Page 18 of In Her Sights

"You there, young lady."

Tessa startled at the masculine voice. A shadow passed over her place on the boardwalk. She glanced up to find Mr. Poindexter staring down at her, a rather perplexed expression scrunching his face.

He stretched out a hand to her. "It seems I owe you my life, Miss James."

Tessa quickly gathered her loose bullets and slipped them into her skirt pocket. She placed her hand in his and allowed him to assist her to her feet. Behind him, a pair of men from the saloon had taken charge of the outlaw she'd wounded and were carting him toward the jailhouse.

Mr. Poindexter pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow, his hand unsteady. "I truly thought I was going to die. I can't believe a slip of a girl saved me." Tipping his head, he offered her a tepid smile. "But then, you didn't come for me, did you?"

"I, ah . . ."

He chuckled. "Jackson's a fortunate young man." Something must have caught his eye, for his attention diverted back into his shop. "Speaking of Mr. Spivey . . ."

Tessa's heart squeezed as Jackson strode out of the doorway. His eyes sought hers, filled with tenderness and concern. Heavens, but she wanted him to hold her. To make all the ugly memories disappear. As if he'd sensed her desire to forget, he'd left his rifle behind. His hands held nothing more dangerous than a cup of coffee.

He came to her side and held the mug out to her. "I thought you might want something to drink. After . . ." His gaze slipped over the edge of the boardwalk where she'd been ill, lingering for a heartbeat before returning to her face.

Her cheeks heated, but she was too appreciative of his thoughtful offering to waste time on embarrassment.

"Thank you." She didn't usually care for coffee, but she took a large sip and swished it around, eager to eradicate the sour taste from her mouth.

As she clung to the cup, Jackson slipped his hands around the pistol dangling from her left hand. She offered no resistance, glad to have him take charge of it.

"I unloaded it," she murmured after swallowing.

He nodded as he slid the pistol into his waistband. If she weren't so shaken, she might have grinned at the feminine pink grip peeking out over the edge of his brown wool trousers.

Mr. Poindexter held out a hand to Jackson. "I owe you a raise after this day's work."

Jackson clasped the man's hand, his posture straightening. "Thank you, sir."

"No. Thank you, son. You saved me hundreds of dollars today, and likely my life as well. You and Annie Oakley's protégée here." He favored Tessa with a smile. "I can't believe you hit that fishing line and brought down that duck. Amazing shot."

Tessa's cheeks heated as she dipped her chin. "Well, I'd actually been aiming for the cowbell on the back wall. Thought it would give a satisfying clang. The duck was an accident."

Mr. Poindexter roared with laughter. "Oh, that's rich." His belly bounced with his amusement, and his eyes began to water. "Remind me . . . Ha! . . . never to play poker with you." He turned to Jackson and slapped a hand on his shoulder as he reined in his chortles. "Your woman's got the best bluff I've ever seen." His mirth finally settled, leaving only a large grin and a twinkle in his eyes. "If the duck was an accident, how did you manage to shoot the gun out of that outlaw's hand?"

Tessa's stomach roiled as the scene replayed in her mind. Jackson tackling Decker. The second outlaw whipping around with Mr. Poindexter still in his grasp. He'd pulled his pistol away from the store owner's head to aim at Jackson. She'd simply reacted. Desperate to protect the man she loved.

"I've learned I'm a much better shot at close range." She shrugged, hoping he'd not ask any more questions. She wanted to forget, not relive the incident over again.

"That's why you rushed him. To get close enough to shoot his arm without shooting me." A hint of awe flavored his voice. "Ma'am, that's about the bravest thing I ever saw. I'm in your debt."

Thankfully, Mr. Poindexter turned his attention away from Tessa and reengaged with Jackson. "Why don't you take Miss James home? I'll close up the shop and run the inventory once the pilfered items are returned. You can take the rest of the day off."

Jackson hesitated and peered down the street. "Looks like they're dragging Decker toward Doc Anderson's office. The man's still on his feet. That's a good sign." He rubbed a hand down his face. "Hopefully, nobody else will be needin' treatment for gunshot wounds."

Poindexter sobered. "Thanks to you. You're an honorable man, Jackson. I'd not have lost any sleep if both those scoundrels had been carted off to the undertaker after what they did. I suppose I'll have to be content with them being carted off to prison instead." He patted Jackson on the back. "Go on, now. Take care of your girl."

"Thank you, sir." Jackson turned to Tessa, his eyes softening. "I will."

He offered her his arm, and Tessa accepted it gladly. Truth be told, she wasn't sure she was capable of walking on her own at the moment. Between her wobbly knees, queasy stomach, and pounding heart, she felt like a threadbare dress being torn apart at the seams. Mr. Poindexter took the nearly empty coffee cup from her, freeing her to clasp Jackson's arm with both hands as he led her down the steps and into the rapidly filling street.

Questions seemed to fly at them from all directions, but she couldn't dredge up the energy to answer any. She didn't even want to look at anyone. Not when she knew what they'd see. Droplets of blood splattered her sleeve and bodice. Blood from the man she'd shot.

A few people called out praises, declaring them heroes for foiling an attempted robbery.

She didn't feel like a hero.