Page 14 of In Her Sights

Laura swatted her on the arm. "And you said nothing to me all day?"

Tessa laughed. "I guess I wanted to hold the truth close for a little while. Let it fully sink in before telling anyone. I haven't even written my mother yet with the news."

"Well, I'm honored to be the first to know."

Tessa reached behind her neck and undid the clasp on the chain she wore. Pulling it out from under her shirtwaist, she held it out to Laura. Her heart ached a bit when her friend's hand closed around the small brass key.

Quit being so sentimental. The pistol isn't yours to keep. You knew that going in.

Nevertheless, it proved difficult to release her grip on the chain.

Laura must have sensed her reluctance, for her brows arched in question. "Are you sure you're ready to pass this along? Rena's not leaving for Oregon for at least a couple months. There's no hurry."

Tessa shook her head, her emotions in a tangle. "I'm just feeling sentimental. Which is ridiculous. I haven't even opened that case since the day I accidentally shot Jackson." The memory still gave her shivers. "After that horrifying experience, I plan never to touch a gun again. The world is safer with me unarmed."

Turning her back on the pistol case, she strode over to her own work area, opened her sewing box, and retrieved a needle, thread, and scissors.

"You're being too hard on yourself." Laura slid the small key into the lock and turned it until it clicked. "Jackson is fully recovered from that little scrape you gave him. No serious harm was done."

"Only by the grace of God. I could have killed him, Laura." Tessa bit her lip as she unfolded the green brocade of Mrs. Robertson's skirt and looked for the place she'd left off with the hem.

"But you didn't."

A fact she thanked God for on a regular basis.

Tessa settled into her chair and spread the pinned skirt fabric over her lap. She cut a length of thread, slid it through the eye of her needle, then knotted the end. "You should read the note." She pointed her needle at the open gun case before plying it to the brocade in earnest.

Laura pulled the paper from the lining pocket and began to read, the grooves in her forehead deepening with each sweep of her eyes. "This sounds like something one of the Grimm brothers would write."

Tessa laughed. "Doesn't it? But you have to admit, it's intriguing. And romantic."

"And a bunch of nonsense."

Tessa shrugged. "Probably. Yet you can't dispute the facts. Before the pistol, Jackson ignored all my attempts to lure him into a courtship. After the pistol came into my possession, he finally surrendered."

A thoughtful look crossed Laura's face. "You know . . . Rena might be more likely to give credence to the hope this note hints at if she saw evidence of how others fared. You should consider adding a note of your own. Share a bit about how you and Jackson ended up together."

Tessa's needle slowed. "That's a good idea. I'll do that before I leave today."

Laura folded the paper and slipped it back into its pocket, then closed and locked the case. She left the chain with the key on the table beside it and returned to her hat-making.

A couple hours later, Tessa stood behind a screen at the back of the main shop, fastening the back of Mrs. Robertson's green brocade gown and trying to ignore the disapproval reflecting in the mirror from her customer's eyes.

Mrs. Elliott, bless her, bustled about as if nothing were amiss.

"Ah, look how it hugs your figure," Mrs. Elliott complimented. "It's perfection. The draping and pleating turned out beautifully, didn't they? Why, you're sure to be the best dressed woman in town."

Mrs. Robertson sniffed. "Yes, well, I agree that your design is quite flattering, but I still don't understand why you insisted on having your . . . assistant handle the fittings. I would feel much more comfortable with you managing the entire process, as I mentioned on several occasions."

Amazing how far the woman could look down her nose without toppling off the fitting dais.

Mrs. Elliott chuckled in cheerful tones, skillfully pitched to placate shrewish customers. "Goodness, Henrietta. If you had to wait on me to finish this dress, you wouldn't have it until well into the new year. Miss James has a deft hand with a needle and always produces excellent work. I doubt I could have fit this dress to you half as well."

Mrs. Robertson opened her mouth to respond, but a series of loud pops from outside cut her off.

All three ladies flinched.

"Good heavens," Mrs. Elliott exclaimed. "Was that gunfire?"