Page 16 of In Her Sights

His boss wasn't exactly keen on Jackson's heritage, but he treated him better than most folks in town. He'd given him a job, after all. Poindexter respected his skill with a gun and his knowledge of firearms, but he still didn't trust Jackson with the money. The shop didn't have enough sales to justify a daily accounting, but he came in like clockwork to check the inventory and count every dollar in the till. After more than a year of working for the man, it was hard not to be insulted by the practice, but Jackson intended to prove himself faithful despite the prejudice. Which was why he'd only be giving these thieves the lowest-priced guns.

Jackson eased out from behind the counter and started collecting revolvers from the middle shelves, the cheaper models most likely to appeal to the majority of customers.

"Hurry it up," Flint Eyes growled. He darted a quick glance toward the door as if he'd seen a movement of some kind.

Jackson tensed, every sense on alert. If someone proved brave enough to challenge the outlaws, he'd be ready. He wrapped the edge of the sack around his hand, then picked up his pace in placing weapons inside. The more weight it carried, the better club it would make.

"Drop your weapons and come out with your hands up!"

The familiar feminine voice shot terror through Jackson's breast. God have mercy. Not Tessa. His heart thundered against his ribs as he pivoted toward the door.

The outlaw holding Mr. Poindexter swiveled to keep his hostage between him and the new threat, but the moment he locked eyes on Tessa, he started cackling.

"A girl?" He scoffed. "Ya seein' this, Decker? She don't look no bigger'n a minute."

Tessa stood in the doorway, that pink pistol of hers clasped in her right hand, her left supporting it. Her eyes blazed like an avenging angel sent to enact justice.

"I might be a woman, but I hit what I aim at." She stepped more fully into the doorway of the shop. "Annie Oakley taught me herself. Gave me this pistol too. It shoots real fine. Now toss down your weapons and let these men go."

"Hogwash! You ain't no Annie Oakley."

Without missing a beat, Tessa aimed her pistol into the middle of the store and fired a shot. A taxidermic duck that hung from the ceiling by a bit of fishing line fell to the ground with a thud. Jackson blinked. She'd severed the fishing line! The last time he'd seen her shoot, she'd struggled to hit a scarecrow from ten feet away. Looking at her, one would never guess that shock was likely ricocheting through her like popping corn. Only the smallest lift of her eyebrows gave her away, and no one but Jackson knew her mannerisms well enough to recognize the difference between a surprised brow and one arched in supposedly smug satisfaction.

"Let's be civilized about this, shall we?" She spoke with nary a wobble, as if shooting dead ducks and threatening cold-hearted outlaws were everyday occurrences.

Man, but she was something.

'Course he still wished her out of here. Bravery didn't make a person bulletproof.

"Drop your weapons," she demanded, "and be on your way. Leave the men and goods behind, and no harm will come to you."

The fella holding Poindexter shifted about like a coyote confronted with a rattlesnake, but the flinty-eyed Decker just smirked and moved his gun arm to take aim at Tessa. Nausea stirred in Jackson's gut.

"Shootin' a target's one thing," Decker sneered. "Shootin' a man's something different. I don't think you got it in you to get blood on those pretty little hands of yours."

Tessa swallowed, her gaze focusing on the barrel of Decker's gun for a long moment before she managed to lift her eyes to his face. She tilted her chin defiantly and glared at him as she pointed her pistol at his chest. "I've shot a man before. Can't say I enjoyed it, but if I have to, I'll do it again."

Her arms trembled ever so slightly, a fact Decker had likely noted. She was putting up a good front, but Jackson didn't know how much longer she would last. He adjusted his grip on the sack and bent his wrist back to a ready position. If the second man would just take his gun away from Poindexter's head . . .

"Please," she said, her tone pleading now. "Just take your friend and go. No one needs to get hurt."

"That's where you're wrong, lady. You—"

Jackson swung with all his might, slamming the sack filled with guns and ammunition against the side of Decker's head. A shot fired. Jackson launched himself at Decker, tackling him to the ground. The instant he'd seen Decker's trigger finger twitch, he'd known he couldn't wait. Not with Tessa in the path of that bullet. Not knowing where Decker's shot had landed tore up his insides, but he had to subdue him before he could check. Had to get control of the gun.

A pair of shots in quick succession fired from the front of the store.

Tessa!

An elbow crashed into Jackson's jaw, knocking his head back and sharpening his focus on Decker. Straddling the face-down thief, Jackson smashed his fist into the side of Decker's face, then lunged for his gun arm, pinning his wrist to the floor with two hands. He pried Decker's fingers away from the army revolver and then, with a swipe of his arm, sent the Colt skidding across the floor and under one of the display shelves. The instant Jackson's grip shifted from wrist to weapon, Decker bucked like a wild bronc and flipped Jackson over his head. His spine slammed into a pyramid of old gunpowder kegs used for decoration. The tumbling kegs slowed Jackson as he scrambled to his feet.

Decker was already up. He snatched the sack of pilfered goods from the floor and ran for the door. Jackson gave chase, but before he could do more than register that his boss was no longer a hostage, Decker shoved Poindexter at Jackson, toppling them both to the floor. By the time he crawled out from under his boss, Decker had mounted his horse.

A string of vile curses reminded him of the secondary threat. Jackson spun to face the other outlaw, his eyes widening when he found the man cradling a bloody wrist, his gun nowhere to be seen.

He tried to run, but Jackson kicked out a leg and tripped him. The man sprawled face first, unable to brace himself from the fall. Poindexter pounced on him, pressing a knee into his back and twisting the man's good arm behind him. The man's howls echoed nearly as loudly as the hoofbeats of the horse carrying Decker away.

"Tessa?" Jackson spun, his eyes scouring the store, the street. Where was she?