'No.'
'Is something wrong? You sound hoarse.'
'I'm fine. What do you want? ' 'I wanted to know if it would bother
you if I made noise.
' 'Doing what? ' 'Target practice.' He sat up and spotted the gun in
her lap. 'Where did you get that? ' 'Tom Norton gave it to me. '
'Put it away.'
'I want to learn to shoot with some degree of accuracy.'
'No, you don't.'
'I'm going to learn how to protect myself. I don't particularly like
guns, and I had hoped never to own one, but the Blackwater gang changed
everything. I'm responsible for taking care of myself and my son, and
I'm not going to let anyone hurt us.'
'Dry your hair and go to sleep.' She pushed a wet strand of hair over
her shoulder, then opened the box of bullets Tom had purchased for her,
and began to load the gun.
He tried not to get mad as he watched her shoot at an impossible
target. She was driving him nuts because she kept making the same
mistakes over and over again, and when he simply couldn't stand it a
second longer, he got up.
He came up behind her, wrapped his arm around her waist, and pulled her
up against him, then took hold of her hand that held the gun.
'Exactly what are you shooting at? ' he demanded.
'The tree straight ahead. What did you think I was shooting at? ' she
asked.
'The stars. You're too high, sugar.' He spent the next twenty minutes
teaching her, and, honest to Pete, he hated every second of it.
She shouldn't have to be learning such a skill. She should be in a
parlor somewhere sipping tea while Caleb played at her feet. She was a
lady, and ladies didn't carry guns.
He made the mistake of giving her his opinions. She vehemently
disagreed. 'I've admitted I don't like the idea of carrying a gun, but
I'm going to until every one of the Blackwater gang has been captured,
and if that means I'm no longer a lady, so be it.'
