Page 5 of In Her Sights

It was too fantastical to be true. Yet the gun was real. She'd held it in her hand, shot it, seen glass shatter when its bullets hit their mark. That wasn't a hoax. And what of Annie? The woman was a straight shooter, and not just with firearms. She wouldn't lie or make up wild tales. What purpose would such a stunt accomplish?

Tessa's heart thumped a little bit faster, and an anticipatory tingle spread through her midsection.

What could offer a more perfect path to Jackson's heart than a pistol crafted for courtship?

Caldwell, TX

Jackson Spivey sat on a stool behind the counter of Caldwell's lone gun shop, oiling the walnut stock of the specialty Winchester single-shot rifle the owner, Mr. Poindexter, kept on display to tempt the town's most avid sportsmen. Jackson had been admiring it for weeks. Such a beautiful weapon. Extra-long barrel, custom trigger, accurate and consistent firing, maximum distance capability. One of the best big-game hunting rifles available. A Sharps might out-perform it at exceptional distances, but Jackson had always been partial to Winchesters. He still had the '73 Carbine he'd used as a kid. Thing shot true every time, though it didn't have the range or power of a sporting rifle. Crockett had bought him an '86 Winchester repeater for his eighteenth birthday two years ago, before Jackson struck out for Caldwell. Took him a few months to get used to the added weight, but he could take down a deer with one shot from a distance that made it easier to keep his presence hidden from unsuspecting game. Plus, every time he used it, the gun reminded him of the man who felt more like family than any blood relative ever had.

Crockett Archer might be a preacher, but he could shoot the pants off any rancher in Burleson County. Well, until Jackson bested him last year. It'd been the proudest moment of Jackson's life, outshooting his mentor. The joy Crockett had taken in Jackson's achievement had made the moment even sweeter. Too bad Pa hadn't been there to see it. Prison was brutal on a man's social calendar. Four months before the contest, Sam Spivey had been sentenced to a three-year term at Huntsville. His weakness for heavy drink and poor card playing had caught up to him. Not that he'd been any more present in Jackson's life before he'd landed in the hoosegow.

Not caring to dwell on the unending list of disappointments his father brought to mind, Jackson focused instead on the sleek craftsmanship of the gun in his hand. He rubbed the oil-dampened cloth over the wood stock until it glowed. The long-barreled sporting rifle might just be the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

The shop door opened, jangling the bell and bringing Jackson's head up, a greeting ready on his tongue. The words evaporated at the sight of a female prancing over the threshold. One with dark brown hair in wild ringlets that seemed on a mission to escape any pin daring to confine them. Deep brown eyes glistened like polished river rocks. Freckles danced over a slender bridge of a nose, and a smile radiated with so much cheer, he couldn't stop his own lips from curving upward, even though he knew better than to offer any encouragement.

He'd been dead wrong. The Winchester single-shot sporting rifle couldn't hold a candle to the exuberant beauty of Tessa James. Especially when her eyes lit with pleasure the moment they found him at the back of the dim shop. Nothing could be more intoxicating to a red-blooded man of twenty than to have a pretty female look at him as if she saw something worthy. Good thing Jackson had lots of practice avoiding intoxicating situations thanks to his drunk of a father, or he would have given into her lure months ago and likely destroyed her in the process. He'd thought himself safe inside the gun shop, but she'd bearded him in his own den, and like a cornered animal with nowhere to run, Jackson could do nothing but stare as she stalked toward him, her green skirt swishing in a gentle rhythm along the floorboards.

"Afternoon, Mr. Spivey."

Her voice drew the attention of the two other men in the shop. Old Man Harrow scowled at the female who'd had the audacity to enter the masculine domain of weaponry, while the younger Harrow, the scowling elder's son and Jackson's best friend, pivoted toward the aisle to appreciate the view. Jackson would have shot Randal a quelling glare if he'd been able to tear his gaze away from Tessa, but that was beyond his power at the moment, so he made a mental note to glower at him later.

Jackson rose off his stool and set the Winchester on the counter before nodding to his newest customer. "Miss James." He pitched his voice in a lower register to ensure it didn't crack as sometimes happened when nerves got the better of him. He might not want to encourage her attention, but he didn't want her thinking him some callow boy, either. "What brings you in today?"

A cough that sounded suspiciously like the words, "You do," echoed from Randal's vicinity. Jackson scratched through his mental note to glower at his friend and revised it to entail something more physical, like a slap to the back of the head.

Tessa's smile never wavered as she approached the counter. Hopefully that meant she hadn't heard Randal's coded cough.

"I need to purchase some ammunition," she announced. "A couple boxes of .32 caliber bullets."

Jackson clamped his molars together to keep his jaw from coming unhinged. Tessa James was a woman with an eye for fashion and a heart for bunnies, puppies, and kittens. He could no more picture her with a gun in her hand than he could picture himself tatting lace.

"A gift for your brother?" Her pa had died years ago, so her brother was the only logical conclusion. Unless . . . Had she decided to turn her attentions to another fella? One who didn't try so hard to avoid her company?

The thought knotted Jackson's stomach. He should be happy for her. It'd be selfish to want to hold on to her affection when he had no intention of returning it. At least not outwardly. She deserved to be happy. To find love. To start a family. Yet his soul must contain a few rotten spots, for he couldn't seem to dig up one charitable thought for whoever she'd decided to pursue in his place.

"No, they're for me." Her eyes twinkled, as if she knew she'd surprised him and was thoroughly enjoying the moment. "I've decided to take up shooting."

There was no stopping the unhinging of his jaw this time. It took him a full three seconds to crank that drawbridge closed.

Taking pity on him, she glanced down and lifted a pistol case onto the counter. He'd been too busy locking eyes with her to notice anything she might be carrying.

"I had the most amazing adventure last Thursday. Did you know that Annie Oakley was in Austin? When I saw the notice in the paper, I knew I couldn't pass up the chance to see her perform. You would have loved it, Jackson. Such incredible marksmanship. She sliced the thin edge of a playing card with one shot and took off the end of a cigarette while it sat in her husband's mouth. I saw her do it with my own eyes, and I still couldn't believe it."

She paused for breath, waiting for some kind of response from him, but to be honest, he was still hung up on her declaration of wanting to take up shooting to follow much else of what she said. The wonder lighting her soft brown eyes didn't help matters any. How was a fella supposed to pay attention to a woman's words when she looked so pretty and full of life?

"Uh . . . sounds impressive."

"It was! The most impressive feats I've ever seen. I started to understand a bit of what you must feel when you hunt. To hit your target with such precision? It must be exhilarating!"

He was exhilarated all right, but it had nothing to do with downing a deer or taking out a squirrel mid-leap.

"I'd heard that Annie often gives lessons to women who wish to learn to shoot, so I signed up, and you'll never guess what happened." She leaned forward over the counter, her white shirtwaist pulling snug in a way he couldn't help but notice. Yet the excitement brimming in her eyes would not be ignored. Her entire demeanor begged him to ask the question.

"What happened?"

Her smile beamed, and he felt like he'd just hit a bullseye with his eyes closed.

"She gave me this beautiful pistol!" Tessa swiveled the gun case toward him, then lifted the lid. "I still can't believe it."