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Unwilling to let her thoughts linger in the past, Rena turned her attention back to the gun case before her. She lifted the lid, again admiring the pink-handled pistol, then removed her cousin’s letter from the envelope and read each word.
Dear Rena,
I realize this might seem like a strange gift for your birthday, but I felt such a compelling urgency to send it to you. The trunk seemed the best way to ship the case and keep it unharmed, so I hope you’ll find a use for it too.
If you look inside the gun case, you’ll find not only a beautiful pistol but also a pocket in the lining that holds a very special letter. You’ll also find a note from my friend Tessa. She recently wed Jackson Spivey. I’m sure you’ll recall I mentioned them in previous letters.
Anyway, aware as I am of your unflagging admiration for Annie Oakley, I think the story of this pink pistol will become part of your own legacy.
I know you are hurting, dear cousin, and I don’t mean from the scars left on your body, but those that cut so deeply into your tender heart. You’re a brave, brave girl to journey to Oregon and attempt to start anew, but I hope you’ll keep in mind that until you release the past and all the pain that was part of it, it will always haunt your future.
My hope—and fervent prayer—for you is that you’ll find a way to let it all go and give yourself permission to fall in love again. I know you scoff at the very notion of romance, but one day a man will come along who will change your mind.
Read the letter, heed the wisdom shared, let hope fill your being, and open your heart to love again, dear one. Give love a chance. It might surprise you.
Watch over Theo for me and make sure he eats properly. I’m sure he still avoids vegetables like they carry the plague, and the only fruit he enjoys is baked into a pie.
Thinking of you always, and giving my prayers wings that you’ll find what you seek there in Holiday.
All my love,
Cousin Laura
Rena’s first inclination after reading the letter was to wad it into a ball and toss it into the stove downstairs. Then she forced herself to read it again. Laura was only trying to help, to offer hope.
Her cousin failed to realize Rena just didn’t have it in her to love again. Not when her heart and her entire life had shattered two years ago.
Convinced she’d regret it, she found the pocket in the lining of the case, carefully removed the letter tucked away there, and read the words penned by someone she’d never know.
She who possesses this pistol, possesses an opportunity that must not be squandered. Cast in the tender dreams of maidens from ages past, the steel of this weapon is steadfast and true and will lead an unmarried woman to a man forged from the same virtuous elements. One need only fit her hand to the grip and open her heart to activate the promise for which this pistol was fashioned—the promise of true love. Patience and courage will illuminate her path. Hope and faith will guide her steps until her heart finds its home.
Once the promise is fulfilled, the bearer must release the pistol and pass it to another or risk losing what she has found.
Accept the gift . . . or not.
Believe its promise . . . or not.
But hoard the pistol for personal gain . . . and lose what you hold most dear.
Rena scoffed. “What a bunch of foolish claptrap!” She started to tuck the note back into the pocket, then noticed there was more written on the parchment.
A gift from the great Annie Oakley, this pistol carries a legacy of love. If you possess this pistol and find love, please record your name and a bit of your story to encourage those who follow.
Tessa James married Jackson Spivey on March 3, 1894, in Caldwell, Texas - I was aiming for his heart but accidentally winged him in the arm. Thankfully, forgiveness and love cover a multitude of mishaps.
“Laura has lost her mind if she believes all this romantic nonsense,” Rena groused as she returned the letter to the pocket in the case and set Laura’s letter aside to tuck into the packet of correspondence she’d kept from both of her cousins over the years.
“Of all the silly, pretentious …” A snort rolled out of her. “True love my foot. I’m more likely to lasso the moon than I am to fall in love because I held this gun. Although, it is a beautiful piece of craftsmanship.”
She started to close the case, but changed her mind and lifted out the pistol. The thought that the gun had been in the possession of her hero, Annie Oakley, made her long to shoot it. Just once.
With a plan in mind, Rena set aside the case, tugged on her boots, and rushed down the ladder. She gathered a pocketful of cartridges and her gun belt with her father’s pistol in the holster. It just happened to be the same caliber as the pink-handled weapon. Excited at the prospect of shooting targets, Rena headed outside. At the woodpile, she selected a large slab of bark that had fallen off a chunk of wood. She took it to the barn, where she painted a red heart on the bark, then added a white circle in the center of it.
She experienced an almost giddy sensation as she carried the bark and the pistols to what had once served as a corral. The whole thing needed to be rebuilt, which was on Theo’s long list of tasks he wanted to finish before summer arrived.
Rena knew he wouldn’t care if she practiced her shooting there since there was nothing behind the fence she could damage.
She used a nail to hang the bark on the fence, then retreated to the burn pile by the outhouse, where she retrieved half a dozen tin cans that had once held peaches. It had been a while since she’d practiced shooting targets.
