With my sincerest apologies for taking so long, and all my love for reading and following and favoriting and reviewing, I give you Chapter 25. Thank You Thank You Thank You Thank You.
Jack Bondurant squinted as he carefully placed a third shine jar full of water on a rickety old single shelf he and Howard had built for just this purpose. The next one he pulled from where it was tucked underneath his arm, trying his best not to slosh the water out or upset the other two clutched beneath his other arm.
Six yards away, Alice sat on an old crate, her Remington Model 30 Express .30 Springfield 1906 bolt action rifle in her lap. She was rubbing gently at the receiver with a soft cloth she used for just this purpose. She raised the gun against her shoulder, pointing it at the ground, and peered down the sights. She had shrugged off her sweater and was sitting on it, the warm forty degree afternoon having inspired her to be a little chilly for the sake of being able to go without it. She was in her typical uniform of riding pants, knee high slightly dusty black field boots, and a white round necked collared shirt with little gold buttons. She had pulled pieces from the front of her hair and pinned them together at the back of her head to keep it out of her way. She'd discarded her gloves, the ones she'd used when she'd ridden Smoke that morning. A small, hinged wooden box filled with .30-.06 ammunition sat opened beside her on the ground.
Twenty minutes before, Howard had found her leaning against a post on the station porch, staring towards the paddock where Smoke was wandering around, inspecting and smelling and gaining information from queues humans weren't astute enough to perceive. He'd almost frightened her out of her skin when he asked "Somethin' on your mind?"
With a relieved sigh, Alice's hand flew to her chest when she realized it was Howard who was suddenly behind her, and not someone else. Ever since Charley Rakes had come after her in the woods, and in her empty hotel room, she'd been highly reactive to most everything. And she was well aware that their conflict with him was far from over.
"I want to know how he handles gunfire." She said, jerking her head towards Smoke so Howard knew what she was talking about.
"It's a common enough sound, but some horses don't respond well. And I'd hate to have a gun go off around him and never have seen how he reacts." She paused. "Especially if I'm on him."
She realized that Howard had a new jar of white lightening in his hand, one he'd just opened from the relative fullness of the vessel. He nodded. Alice could see a bit of mischief playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Well, awlright. Why don't we do some shootin' then? I'm sure ol'For'st will allow us a little fun. Go'n git your gun."
Alice paused for a moment, a bit apprehensive, imagining the wrath they may incur if Forrest weren't in the mood to humor them.
Howard shuffled back inside with muted scuffs of his boots on the wooden porch. Before they were fully inside, Howard called to Jack to set up the jars, reaching his earshot, where he was cavorting with Cricket in the smaller garage off to the side of the yard where Cricket had his sleeping palate. They were working on Jack's new Ford. Alice had gone upstairs to get her firearm, and Howard strode nonchalantly inside, and poked his head into Forrest's office, smiling wryly at his brother. Forrest turned his thick neck around slowly, staring at his older brother. He noticed the way his brother slouched with his shine jar in his hand, the sparkling, slightly impaired gleam in his eyes.
"Whatchu want, Howard?" Forrest grumbled.
Howard smirked. "We gon' be goin' hot outside in a few minutes here, For'st, just wanted to let you know so you don't come out all brass knuckles and brimstone when you hear the gunfire."
Howard turned to leave and Forrest called after him. "Now y'all be careful now, make sure there ain't nobody in the yard when you're doin' that shit."
Howard called a grumbled, half-hearted reassurance back over his shoulder and headed out through the station into the warm afternoon sunshine.
Forrest himself much preferred hand-to-hand combat over trading gunfire with another man, but he knew sometimes it was inevitable. He also knew he didn't need any practice. With a shake of his head, he turned back to his paperwork. He was calculating time and volume expected from both the new submarine stills, and the entire operation as a whole now that they had been added. It never occurred to Forrest that the footsteps he heard, Alice's footsteps, were headed in the direction of Howard's little training session. His assumption was that she must be headed back out to the barn, where she now spent most of her time.
Alice turned her head when she heard Howard coming down the porch steps. He grinned at her, and spat a bit of tobacco out the side of his mouth onto the clay yard. Alice had risen to her feet and was sliding the bolt of her rifle into place as she loaded it. Jack and Cricket had come to join her, and stood behind her, at a safe distance. Howard stood to the side, grinning. Alice watched as he took a sip of his shine jar, and she saw him making chewing motions and swishing the whiskey around in his mouth.
She'd had opportunity to observe many different rugged men's habits in logging camps, but she'd never seen someone intentionally soak a gob of chewing tobacco with moonshine so he could squish the liquor out as he chewed it. She shook her head, smiling. She stared ahead of her at the five-foot high shelf that held five mason jars with water in them. Howard nodded to her encouragingly, leaning forward with the heels of his hands on his knees, grinning at her from underneath his hat. He'd been curious since he'd seen her guns just how well she could shoot.
Alice smiled and raised the butt of the rifle to the crook of her shoulder, placing her left hand under the forestock and resting her right hand gently a few inches below and around the bolt, keeping her finger from the trigger until she was ready to shoot. Alice turned her head to the side and looked down the front sight, speaking to the boys in a quiet, concentrated tone.
"Not sure what I'm going to hit with y'all staring at me." She laughed. She had cleaned and carried this rifle since she'd been here, but hadn't actually shot a firearm since her father's death in Charlotte. She clicked off the safety and held her finger carefully inside the trigger guard, away from the trigger. She lined up her sight carefully, aiming for the center jar. A deep breath in, and she pulled the trigger carefully. A deafening crack sounded throughout the yard, and with the sound of exploding glass, a spray of shards and water shot every which way. She pulled the bolt, and the cartridge ejected up and to her right.
"Damn!" Howard shouted, laughing to himself as he shook his head. Alice immediately turned her head to see what Smoke's reaction in the paddock had been. He had raised his head, and his ears were at attention, but other than his heightened alertness he seemed unphased.
Cricket and Jack piped in with accompanying praise, "Holy Smokes, Alice!" and "Jesus H. Christ!" respectively.
Alice laughed and turned to Howard, who was mashing around his tobacco. "Yes, but which one was I aiming for?" She asked.
Howard laughed again, standing up straight, and spat a bit of chew on the ground. "You knew which one you were aimin' fer." He said.
Alice sighed. She made note of where the cartridge had ejected to, but Cricket had already shuffled over to retrieve it. She loaded another round of ammo into the chamber and closed the bolt, clicking the safety on immediately. She looked around at the boys, checking to see if they were taking turns or if she should shoot again.
"You know," Howard began. "At this range," He moved his finger back and forth to show the distance between the very farthest edge of the pond where the shelf stood, and far back towards the garage where they now stood, "that's a damn good shot."
Alice shrugged, her face flushing a bit.
"I have at most five talents. Horses, guns, remembering details, being in the woods, and pretending to be refined." She laughed. "This happens to be one of those five things. My father came to America from Denmark with the idea that he was going to be some kind of cowboy."
When she said 'Cowboy,' her voice had the distinct timbre of one whose voice was much deeper, and quite accented. An impression of her father, Howard observed. She paused. Her smile faded just a bit, but only because the sentiment behind it changed.
"So we did all of these things, like riding and shooting, hiking and exploring in the woods, learning about the plants and animals. And reading American stories, of course." She said, laughing.
A second tremendous crack, followed by its echo, mirroring it it through the hills. Humming unpleasantly in Alice's shoulder.
"Shit." She grumbled.
"It's awlright, take yer time." Howard said, leaning forward in concentration.
Alice lined up again. Pulled. Crack. And a twinkling burst as the sunlight hit the exploding jar. Sitting in his office Forrest had the distinct feeling that he heard Alice's voice outside with Howard's. Would she have not come to him first if she intended to shoot in the yard? He was not concerned about her asking him for permission on this particular matter, she had enough sense to do whatever she liked as long as she did it safely. Besides, he was certain she'd been reassured that he, Forrest, would not be upset by what they were doing. What upset him was that out of a list of choices that included him, she was outside with Howard. He seemed not to have noticed Jack and Cricket. Alice was ejecting her third cartridge by the time that Forrest appeared on the porch, stalking around with his hands in his cardigan pockets and his mouth around a cigar. He squinted, and looked up, ignoring them for the most part. But he was watching her, out of the corner of his eye. He watched her face, how soft her features stayed, how relaxed she seemed as she peered down the sights. She was so still for a moment, her hair blowing a bit behind her in the wind, her hand correcting for the breeze. Then another crack, another burst of glass and spray of water. Howard nodded approvingly at Alice.
"Okay, Jack and Cricket, pick who's going next and fill up more jars." Howard said, gesturing with his left hand that they should put themselves into motion, sipping from his shine jar with his right.
The two hustled off to the shed where they kept the damaged shine jars, ones that were too cracked or chipped and were no longer suitable for selling. It was these they used for target practice.
Meanwhile, Alice loaded her last cartridge, and replaced the bolt one more time. She aimed at the very last shine jar. The last crack and explosion of glass were accompanied by a sharp little gasp of pain as the recoil slammed the butt of the gun into the part of Alice's collarbone closest to her arm socket. She looked over at Forrest and Howard
"I suppose I should've held onto that one a little better."
Forrest furrowed his brow in confusion, trying so hard to mask his concern that he appeared disgruntled. She giggled, looking down self-consciously. She ejected the cartridge and put on the safety, out of habit. She tucked a bit of hair behind her head and sat on the crate, a safe distance from firing range. Forrest watched how carefully she lay the rifle across her lap.
Jack and Cricket took turns with a set of five jars, alternating shots between the two, changing up when one missed. The handguns they were using weren't the best pistol and revolver, respectively, with regards to accuracy, so they wound up attempting to compensate quite a bit in their aim. Alice sat on the crate, which had been placed far back at a safe distance, and Forrest watched with fascination the way she reached into her little hinged box and retrieved her five round charger and five rifle rounds, carefully balancing everything on her lap. She loaded the rounds into the charger, and the charger into the rifle, peering down into the chamber to make sure that everything was sitting properly within the gun. Then she put on the safety and waited her turn. Forrest observed. He turned down his chance to shoot with a stern grunt and a shake of his head. Howard himself decided he didn't want to shoot either, preferring instead to watch Alice shoot again.
Standing the way she was as she got into position to shoot again, her posture perfect, her shape accentuated by the riding pants and the tucked in shirt, he suddenly felt a very protective need towards her. And anger at his brother. Who was looking at her so openly. Truly, he did not believe that his brother intended to stand in his way with Alice, in fact, he thought the opposite might be true. That Howard may be flirting with her in attempt to force his hand was a distinct possibility if not a certainty, now that his stubbornness and lack of initiative with Alice had left them at an awkward and cautiously romantic standstill which was confusing both rather much. Howard was goading him, and he didn't like it, even if he and his brother both knew it was for his own good. Forrest hung back, watching the two, and waiting to see how far his brother would push.