Chuck vs the Wildcat

by dettiot

It's the 1870s in the American Southwest. Charles "Chuck" Bartowski, after avenging the death of his sister, falls in with gunslinger John Casey. There's a range war in El Dorado, and Chuck finds himself on one side of the war. And on that side is a woman named Sarah Walker.

6. Chapter 6: Gaily Bedight

Title: Chuck vs. the Wildcat 6/?

Author: dettiot

Rating: T

Summary: It's the 1870s in the American Southwest. Charles "Chuck" Bartowski, after avenging the death of his sister, has fallen in with gunslinger John Casey. There's a range war in El Dorado, and Chuck finds himself on one side of the war. And on that side is a woman named Sarah Walker.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck or ElDorado. No copyright infringement intended.

Author's Note: Those of you who've been waiting for Chuck/Sarah romance, this is the chapter for you. Enjoy!

XXX

Chapter Six: Gaily Bedight

XXX

Chuck concentrated, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the target. He pressed the stock of the rifle against his shoulder as he braced for the recoil. Then, he held his breath and fired.

The crack of the gunshot split the air, but there was no tinkle of shattering glass. Chuck sighed in disappointment as once again, his shot went wide and didn't break the bottle that sat on the fence post fifteen feet ahead of him.

He turned to Morgan, who was sitting on the top rail of the fence that enclosed the small corral by the jail's stable. "What am I doin' wrong?" Chuck asked in frustration. "I sight the target, hold my breath, squeeze the trigger instead of jerking it . . ."

"Dunno, Chuck," Morgan said, pushing his hat back on his head. "But whatever you're doin' wrong, it's really wrong."

"I know," Chuck said, trying to keep his grumpiness out of his voice. It wasn't Morgan's fault that Chuck couldn't get this.

He had gotten to a point where he was comfortable shooting his sawed-off shotgun, yet it lacked precision. It was too easy to catch someone in the crossfire with the shotgun, so Casey had suggested that he practice using a rifle. After showing him the fundamentals of shooting, Casey had set Chuck to work on his own. But while Chuck could hold the rifle steady, control his breathing, and pull back evenly on the trigger, he was still missing his targets.

Casey hadn't been sympathetic. "If you're missin' your target, means you got a problem somewhere. You just gotta figure out where."

From Casey's words, he assumed he should make sure he was following all the rules. So Chuck went back to square one and focused on each step of shooting. He thought he had figured everything out, so tonight he had asked Morgan to watch him. So far, his friend hadn't seen anything really wrong, and Chuck was starting to get annoyed by his failure. He hated not being able to do something, especially when he was trying as hard as he could. In the past, he'd always been able to learn anything if he put his mind to it. But shooting continued to elude him.

Chuck sighed and put the safety on the rifle, then set it against one of the fence posts. He leaned against the fence next to Morgan, his shoulders slumped. "I just don't get it, buddy."

"Chuck, you're probably just thinkin' too hard. You gotta relax."

He took a deep breath, then blew it out. "You're right. I just, I don't want to make any mistakes. Not again."

"It's a lot harder to accidentally shoot someone with a rifle than with a shotgun," Morgan pointed out.

Chuck knew his friend was trying to be reassuring, but he didn't feel any better. He straightened up and picked up the rifle. "There's not much more light," he said, gesturing towards the sun rapidly sinking in the west. "I'll give it a few more tries."

Morgan nodded. "Atta boy, Chuck! You can do it! I have a good feelin' this time."

He couldn't help grinning a little at Morgan's encouragement and enthusiasm. Then he lifted the rifle and aimed for the bottle again. He lined up the target within the rifle's sights and slowly squeezed the trigger.

Yet again, he missed. He lowered the rifle and sighed, then looked at Morgan. "You really can't see what I'm doing wrong?" he asked Morgan plaintively.

Morgan shook his head, looking unhappy. "I'm sorry, Chuck, but I can't."

"I can."

At the sound of Sarah's voice, Chuck spun around. She was standing a few feet away from the fence, wearing her regular trousers and close-fitting shirt, her hat hanging down her back. Like always, Chuck felt that spark, that feeling that everything had become brighter now that Sarah was here.

Sarah smiled and walked towards them, folding her arms and resting them on the top of the fence rail. "I know what you're doin' wrong, Chuck."

"Tell me, please," Chuck said, giving her a small, embarrassed smile. "Because I'm stumped."

She grinned at him. "First, lemme see you shoot again. Make sure I've got it right."

"Okay," Chuck said with a swallow. He felt his nerves flutter to life at the thought of Sarah watching him. What if he failed again? Would she start to think less of him?

Hesitantly, he glanced over at Sarah, who had climbed up on the fence to sit next to Morgan. She gave him an encouraging smile, and he tried to smile back through his nerves.

Taking a deep breath, he turned and faced his target. He carefully raised the rifle and braced it, then sighted the target, making some slight adjustments. He held his breath and pulled back on the trigger.

Chuck felt crushed when he missed the bottle. How was he messing this up? He just didn't understand. Slowly he walked over to Sarah and tried to smile, tried not to appear as disappointed as he was.

"So, now you see how bad I am."

She grinned at him. "Honestly, you're not. Your mechanics are good, but I'd expect that for anyone taught by Casey."

"I've gotta be doing something wrong, though, 'cause I keep missing," he said, trying not to sound whiny.

"Yeah, you are," Sarah said. She looked at him for a moment, then said, "You're closing your eyes when you pull the trigger."

"What?" he asked in surprise.

Morgan groaned, reminding Chuck that his friend was still there. "Of course! I can't believe I missed it."

"It's just a flicker," Sarah said. "But it's long enough for you to lose aim on the target, and once you do that, you're just wastin' bullets."

Chuck frowned, thinking this over. The sheriff had implied his issues with shooting seemed to be mental. Casey said that flinching meant you weren't relaxed. So perhaps closing his eyes was a kind of flinch, and he didn't feel relaxed when he was holding a gun. It made sense. But he wasn't sure why shooting a gun bothered him more than using a knife. Maybe it was because the gun seemed so much more violent. If he became a good shot, it would be the last break with his old life. Ellie had always encouraged him to use his mind, not his fists, and she really hated guns. She would be so disappointed in him, if she could see him now.

Although maybe that wasn't fair to his sister. Ellie had high ideals, but she was also practical. And she loved him. She might not be happy with the way he had changed, but she'd support him. And although it was a hard change to make, he needed to learn how to shoot if he was going to stay in El Dorado. So he had to put aside what Ellie would have said and find a way to improve.

Sarah hopped down off the fence and walked over to him. "C'mon, I'll help you."

"How can I not close my eyes?" Chuck asked her. "It's an instinct, after all."

"You think you're the first person I taught?" Sarah asked, amusement in her voice. "I taught my three younger brothers how to shoot, not to mention half the kids my age. I even taught Morgan. And you're a lot smarter than he is."

"I was awful before Sarah showed me what to do," Morgan offered up.

Chuck managed a nervous grin. "Worse than me?"

Sarah lightly punched him in his shoulder. "None of that. Closin' your eyes is an easy problem to fix. Take your stance."

"Okay . . ." Chuck said warily, lifting the rifle and getting into position, turning his left side towards the target and bracing the rifle against his right shoulder. Sarah stood at his side, facing him. She ran her eyes over him, something he noticed out of the corner of his eye.

"Here," she said, raising her hands and pushing his right shoulder back a little. "Give yourself a bit more room." Then she ran her hands along the rifle and adjusted where his left hand was supporting the barrel of the gun.

He licked his lips, trying not to get distracted by the touch of her hands. "What about my eyes?"

"Easy, Chuck," she said softly, glancing up at him. "One step at a time."

Nodding his head, he took a deep breath. "Okay."

She smiled at him. "Close your eyes."

He arched his eyebrow but did what she said. He felt Sarah's hands settle over his hands lightly.

"Breathe," she said, her voice calm and quiet. "Imagine lining up the shot."

He took a breath like she told him, then focused on his memory of how it felt to have a bead on the target.

"Now hold your breath and imagine pulling the trigger," Sarah said. He felt his finger touch the trigger, caught up in the mental picture she was spinning.

"Got that picture?" she asked. He nodded. "Then open your eyes and aim."

Chuck swallowed and slowly opened his eyes, his gaze landing on her face. She smiled at him. "Go on, aim."

He nodded again and looked at the bottle through the sights.

"Got it, Chuck?" she asked, taking two steps back from him.

"Yes," he said, not wanting to nod and disturb his aim.

"Hold on to that feeling of making the shot," she said, her voice soft. "Then make it happen."

He gazed at the bottle for a long moment, letting everything fall away. His doubt, his lack of success, his awareness of Sarah. He focused and pulled the trigger.

He jumped as the loud gunshot was almost immediately followed by the sound of shattering glass. He lowered the gun, a huge smile dawning on his face, as he realized that he had hit it.

"I hit it!" he said, turning to Sarah with wide eyes.

She grinned at him. "Told you."

Unable to believe it, he turned to look at the glass shards littering the ground, then turned to Sarah. "I hit it!" he repeated, then pulled Sarah into a one-armed hug, still holding the rifle in his free hand. "Thank you!"

In his glee, it took him a moment to realize how close he was to Sarah. Once he did, he immediately let her go and took a step back, feeling his ears turn red. "Oh. Oh. That was-I'm sorry, I shouldn't take liberties like that-not that it was anything more than a hug, I swear."

Sarah's cheeks were flushed a light pink. "No, it's . . . It's okay, Chuck. I know you weren't trying anything." She ran her hands through her hair, then fiddled with her hat. "I need to get home before it gets dark." She looked at him quickly. "I think you've got the hang of shooting now."

Chuck nodded. "Yeah, yeah . . . the imagination thing really felt good." He looked at her. "I . . . I know you can handle yourself, but-but would you like me to ride with you out to your ranch?"

She seemed a bit flustered by his offer, her hands fidgeting more with her hat. "I don't need anyone to ride with me . . . and besides, you'd then be alone on the ride back to town."

"Morgan-Morgan could come along. Party of three!" Chuck said, stepping close to her. "Nice and safe for all of us." He looked at her, silently urging her to let him do this for her. He meant what he had said to her: Sarah Walker was perfectly capable of defending herself and staying safe. But that didn't mean he wanted her out there without anyone to watch her back.

She looked at him for a long moment, then nodded quickly. "Okay. Meet me in front of the jail."

"Okay," he said, smiling at her. "It'll take us a few minutes to saddle our horses, but we'll be right there."

"Right," she said, before turning and climbing over the fence. She walked out of sight, and Chuck turned to Morgan. "Buddy, I hope you don't mind me volunteering you-"

"Are you kidding?" Morgan asked, jumping off the fence and walking with him towards the stable. "I wouldn't miss seein' this for anything. Chuck Bartowski, gettin' the Wildcat to do what he asks."

"It's not like that," Chuck said, going into the stable and starting to saddle Newton. "I was worried about her, but I don't want her to think I don't respect her."

Morgan only grinned at Chuck as he saddled his horse. "Sure, Chuck."

Chuck sighed and focused on the buckles on his saddle.

XXX

The ride out to the Walker ranch started silent. Chuck felt nervous, unsure of what to say especially with Morgan riding along with them. Sarah seemed uncertain as well, shifting frequently in her saddle.

The nearly-full moon had broken through some cloud cover, shedding plenty of light for them. Chuck glanced over at Sarah and smiled sheepishly.

"I guess with this much light, you would have been fine."

She started a little at the sound of his voice, then laughed, her voice equally sheepish. "I suppose. But it's nice to have company."

Chuck nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"What d'you mean?" she asked, looking at him.

He shrugged. "I've spent a lot of time alone over the last five years. Now that I've got friends again, I realize how much I missed having 'em."

"I've never really had friends."

The sadness in her voice, barely held in check, made him turn to look at her. She was looking straight ahead, her hand gripping the pommel of her saddle.

"Really?" he asked softly.

"I had my brothers," she said, glancing at him.

But brothers were no substitutes for friends, he thought. Another silence fell between them that lasted until they were approaching the edge of the Walker lands. Chuck glanced back at Morgan. He didn't know what he was looking for; maybe some encouragement or perhaps even a little commiseration. Morgan, though, seemed to be focused on sending him some kind of message. He was mouthing words that Chuck couldn't decipher. At his confused look, Morgan sighed and hissed at him.

"Spend some time with her!"

Chuck frowned, then looked at Sarah. The corners of her mouth were turned down, and her whole body seemed to emanate sadness. He didn't like seeing her sad.

"Sarah?"

His mouth went into action without waiting for his brain. She looked at him, a small wrinkle in her forehead.

"Would you like to have dinner with me?" Chuck asked, his words coming out in a rush.

Sarah stared at him. "What?"

He swallowed before repeating his question. "Would you like to have dinner with me?"

"You want to have dinner with me?" she asked in surprise. He nodded, and she looked at him before flushing. "I . . . um . . ."

He hadn't realized how much he wanted her to say yes until it seemed like she'd say no. "You don't have to say yes-it was just an idea, but if you're not interested-"

"Chuck!"

Sarah's voice sliced through his babble. He looked at her, seeing that there was a small smile on her face.

"Okay."

He felt a smile form on his face. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Yes. We-we could have a picnic. Tomorrow night?"

Chuck smiled wider. "That sounds great. Meet you around seven?"

"That's good. I'll handle the food . . . can you meet me here? I'll take you to a nice spot for the picnic." Sarah looked like she was fighting hard to keep her smile under control.

He nodded his agreement and smiled at her. For a moment, Sarah let her smile beam out at him, brighter than the moon or the sun. "I'm fine from here. See you tomorrow, Chuck." With that, she aimed a well-placed heel to her horse's flanks and took off.

Chuck drew to a stop, watching how easily she handled her horse. Morgan pulled his horse up beside Chuck and looked at him. "Did you just ask her to dinner?" Morgan asked, sounding shocked.

"I did," Chuck said, knowing he was smiling like a loon.

"I just meant for you to slow her down! Take more time on the ride!" Morgan grinned. "But not you. You ask out Sarah 'Wildcat' Walker. Chuck, my man, you're crazy. Brave, but crazy."

"Don't start that, Morgan," Chuck said, wheeling his horse around and starting back for town. "I thought you liked Sarah."

"I do," his friend said. "But Sarah Walker's not like other girls."

"That's why I like her," Chuck retorted. "She's different. And I think she likes me."

"Oh, she does."

Chuck did a double-take. "What?"

"She definitely likes you, Chuck. She never touched me or anyone else when she was teachin' us to shoot. And . . ." Morgan's voice trailed off and Chuck looked at him closely.

"What, Morgan?"

"She talks to you, buddy. She doesn't talk to anyone like she talks to you."

Chuck thought over Morgan's words as they rode. "Her dad saw us talking the other day, then he got me alone. Do you know he said she'd never want to get married, since he'd barely give her anything to take with her and she'd worked too hard on their ranch?"

Morgan nodded. "Yeah. Mr. Walker's pretty cold."

"That's an understatement," Chuck said grimly.

"Chuck, he's not a nice guy, but you shouldn't be thinkin' about him right now. You should be thinkin' about Sarah."

And as the two of them rode back to the jail, Chuck found himself doing just that.

XXX

Chuck yawned and poured himself some coffee the next morning. It had taken him a long time to fall asleep, since his mind was whirring away with questions about his date with Sarah. Should he take her some kind of gift, like flowers or candy? What would they talk about? Maybe he should prepare some topics of conversation or memorize some poetry . . .

He groaned softly and shook his head. Quoting poetry was too much for a first date. He settled down in a chair and sipped his coffee, trying to wake up.

Casey stalked out of the jail's back room, looking grumpy. The sheriff followed him and took a seat at her desk.

"Where's Morgan?" Chuck asked.

"Talkin' to his informants," Casey said. "Nice of you to join us, kid, 'stead of sleepin' the day away."

He felt his ears go red in embarrassment. "Sorry."

"Don't pay no mind to Casey, Bartowski," Beckman said. "He's grumpy that I'm not lettin' him go ridin' out, guns blazin'."

Chuck looked back and forth between Casey and Beckman. "And why does Casey wanna do that?"

"We're startin' to get a picture of what's goin' on," the sheriff said. "The Walkers are still doin' their quick attacks against Shaw. But it seems this is a lot bigger than a fight over water rights."

He swallowed. "What d'you mean, Sheriff?"

Beckman sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Best as we can figure, Shaw's just part of the problem."

"He's gettin' letters from all over the state," Casey said gruffly. "Even some comin' from back East."

"That's not a crime . . ." Chuck said, trying to understand what they were getting at.

"Nope, but it's a bit suspicious," Casey said.

The sheriff picked up the story from Casey. "Shaw's in communication with a lotta dangerous folks. Given that no one here knows much about him, even after him livin' here for nearly ten years, it's troublin'."

"What do you think it could be?"

Beckman shrugged. "Dunno, Bartowski. But it bears watchin'."

Chuck nodded. "Yes, Sheriff."

"Keep your eyes open and be careful who you talk to," Beckman advised. She looked at him and her mouth quirked up in a smile. "Even when you're on a date."

Now Chuck could feel a blush take over his whole face, especially when Casey chuckled. "Finally made a move, huh, kid?" he asked, sipping his coffee.

"Um . . . yes, I guess," Chuck said, fumbling a little. "It's just dinner."

"A 'picnic dinner under the stars', according to Grimes," Casey smirked.

Chuck fought to hold back a groan over Morgan's loose lips. He had hoped to lay low today and slip out for his dinner with Sarah, but that wasn't to be.

"Go easy on him, Casey," Beckman said. She looked at Chuck. "You like the girl, you're doin' the right thing by showin' her that."

"Change of tune for you, Diane," Casey commented. "Wasn't it just the other day you were wantin' Bartowski to spy on her?"

"Can't deny it'd be handy, havin' an inside line on one side of this fight," Beckman said. "But Bartowski's not cut out for it, and he's put his foot down on that."

"That-that's right," Chuck said, trying to make his voice sound firm.

"Besides, it'd be more handy to have someone checkin' on Shaw, but he don't got any daughters that have caught your eye," Beckman said, standing up and pouring herself some coffee. "So enjoy your evening."

"Thank you, Sheriff," Chuck said. "I really appreciate it."

"Go get outta here," Beckman said. "Gertie rents baths, and you could use one."

Chuck grinned. "Yes, ma'am." He picked up his spare shirt and settled his hat on top of his curls, heading for the door.

"Kid?"

"Yeah, Casey?" he asked, pausing by the door.

"Get a haircut," Casey said tersely.

"Do I hafta?" he asked, knowing he sounded like a whiny kid.

"You look like some kinda wild man, cut off from civilization," he grunted.

Chuck glanced at the sheriff, who was smirking. "Wouldn't hurt to look tidy, Bartowski," she said.

With a sigh, Chuck nodded. "Okay."

XXX

Chuck took his time at Miss Gertrude's, enjoying his first real bath in a year. Then he stopped in at the town barber and got a shave and his hair trimmed. He barely recognized himself when he looked in the small mirror at the barber shop.

Instead of going right back to the jail and face Casey's teasing and Morgan's excitement, Chuck chose to kill some time in the general store. He splurged on a new shirt, but resisted buying Sarah anything. It was too early for that, and he didn't know if she liked flowers or candy. But while he was browsing through the store's wares, he noticed a small miniature globe.

He picked it up and looked at it, noting how accurate it was, even in such a small size. Impulsively, he bought it for Sarah. She wanted to see the world; perhaps this would give her some hope in the face of her father's disapproval.

It was just after six o'clock that Chuck was ready to go. He had changed into his new shirt, brushed the dirt off his trousers, and shined his boots. Before he had gotten cleaned up, he had spent some extra time currying Newton, making sure he looked his best, too.

After looking at the clock four times within three minutes, Chuck gave up and got out of his chair. "I'll be heading out now."

The sheriff looked up from the newspaper she was reading. "Have a good night."

Morgan hopped up from his chair and followed Chuck out to the stable. "You nervous, buddy? There's no need to be nervous. She is definitely interested, Chuck."

He breathed slowly as he saddled Newton, trying to keep himself under control. "Thanks, Morgan." He lead his horse out of the stable and mounted up.

"Okay, Chuck! Have fun!" Morgan waved eagerly at Chuck.

"See you later, Morgan," Chuck said tightly, lightly tapping Newton's flanks and directing him towards the road out of town and towards the Walker ranch.

He was really nervous. He'd never courted a girl, never had a woman express interest in him. Well, other than the fancy ladies he'd seen in saloons during his travels, but after the first time he had gotten an earful of pretty talk before being asked to pay up for more, he'd learned his lesson. He wanted something real.

Sarah was a good choice for something real, he thought. She was smart, savvy, and interesting. And she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. And he'd asked her to have dinner with him, and she'd agreed.

Chuck grinned to himself. Sarah Walker was going to have dinner with him. And not just any dinner, but an intimate picnic as the sun set.

He urged Newton on, sending him into a gentle canter. Soon, he reached the edge of the Walker property, and reined back on his horse. He knew he was a bit early, but ever since he had pawned his watch two years ago, he'd had to guess what time it was. It wasn't more than a ten minute wait, he guessed, so he chose to take shelter under some trees. Staying out of the sun would keep him from sweating through his new shirt.

Dismounting from his horse, he let Newton graze as he stretched. He looked around, taking in the view. It wasn't hard to see why Jack Walker had settled here. There was a great vista stretching out, the vastness of the land only interrupted by rock hills and stands of trees.

It was understandable, why Mr. Walker thought Sarah would never leave. That she'd stay here forever.

The sound of an approaching horse made him turn around. Grabbing Newton's reins, he stepped out from under the trees and watched Sarah ride towards him on her pinto. She pulled up and smiled. "Hi, Chuck."

He took a breath. "Hi, Sarah."

She wasn't wearing anything different from her normal clothes: buckskin trousers and a blue shirt that made her eyes look like the sky. But she took his breath away.

"Ready for dinner?" she asked, gesturing to the saddlebags on either side of her horse's neck.

He nodded. "Yeah. Yes, I'm ready." He smiled shyly at her, then climbed into the saddle.

"This way," she said, leading him away from the trees and over flat, level plains. She set a fast pace, preventing any conversation, but Chuck didn't mind. It gave him time to collect his thoughts, to calm his nerves as best as he could.

After a few minutes of riding, Sarah slowed her horse to a walk. She gave him a small smile. "Sorry for goin' so fast. I wanted us to get out of sight quick, so my brothers wouldn't butt in."

"Are they the protective type?"

Sarah grinned. "You could say that. They're all troublemakers-well, not Adam so much, now that he's married, but Matt and Mark and Johnny, they're all pains."

He sensed that she didn't really mean what she said-there was too much love, too much amusement, in her voice. He smiled back at her. "I was a bratty younger brother myself."

"Not really, though, were you?" she asked, leading them towards a rocky hill. They skirted to the side, their horses carefully picking their way over the stones.

"Oh, really. I used to read her diary and spy on her with her young man," Chuck said, raising his voice as she moved her horse ahead of his.

She grinned at him over her shoulder but didn't say anything else as they entered a clearing. Chuck looked around and immediately noticed a small pond. Thanks to the water, there was a thin yet hardy-looking grass surrounding the pond, as well as several trees. Best of all, it was encircled by rocks, lending an air of privacy to the spot.

He swung his leg over the back of his horse, dropping to the ground. "This is amazing," he said softly to Sarah. Something about it made him want to speak quietly.

"I know," she said, her voice low as well. "I found this place a few years ago but kept it to myself."

"I'd have kept it secret, too," he said, smiling at her. Sarah smiled back, then turned and lifted the saddlebags from her horse.

"There's a good tree over by the pond where we can tie the horses. Gives them water and grass," Sarah said, laying the saddlebags on the ground. Chuck nodded and followed Sarah to the tree, where they unsaddled their horses and left them to graze.

The sun was just starting to set when they came back to the bags. Sarah pulled out a faded Mexican blanket and handed it to him with a small smile. Following her unspoken directions, Chuck spread the blanket on the ground and watched as Sarah efficiently unpacked the saddlebags.

The food she spread across the blanket was a veritable feast: tortillas filled with beans and cheese, a small side of beef that was practically falling off the bone, and an apple and raisin cobbler. There was sweet, tart lemonade to go with the food.

Chuck let out a soft whistle as Sarah finished setting out the food. "Wow. This is amazing."

Sarah smiled softly. "Rosa was very excited when I asked her to put this together." She handed Chuck a plate and a tin knife and fork, then started putting food on her own plate. "She pulled out all the stops on this."

"Will you thank her for me? I already know Rosa's cooking is fantastic," Chuck said with a smile, piling his plate high. "That breakfast you sent over, it's something I dream about."

Sarah chuckled softly as she settled back on the blanket, her legs folded and her plate resting on her knee. "I will."

He smiled at her as he carefully settled in next to her. He loaded up his fork with some beef and took a bite, chewing happily. "Mmmm. Rosa is a miracle worker."

"She really is," Sarah said between bites of her food. She gave him a small smile, and he smiled back.

They settled into a comfortable silence, eating and drinking. Each bite was better than the last one, and the company was even better, Chuck thought. Once he had satisfied most of his hunger, he set his plate aside and leaned back on one hand, sipping his lemonade.

"That was very good," he said.

She nodded. "I'm glad you liked it," she said, stretching her legs out in front of her. Chuck couldn't help letting his eyes roam over the length of her legs-did all women have such long legs hidden under their skirts? He doubted that. He dragged his eyes away from her limbs, only to realize that she was watching him with an amused smile on her face.

His face went red and he took a long swallow of lemonade.

"Chuck?"

He took a breath and faced her. She looked thoughtful, nibbling softly on her lower lip. "I didn't get a chance to ask you yesterday, with Morgan bein' there, but . . . but what did my father say to you?"

This was a moment of truth. Should he keep quiet about what her father said and hope she didn't find out what Jack Walker thought of his only daughter? Or should he reveal what her father had said and risk hurting her?

Gazing at her face, he realized that he didn't want to keep anything from her. Even if it might backfire for him, he wanted to tell her the truth.

"He . . . he warned me that if I was interested in you in order to-to get rich, I should give up," Chuck said, trying to choose his words carefully. "He also thought that . . . well, he thought you've worked too hard on your family's ranch to ever want to leave by getting married."

Sarah listened to him, her face as still as a statue. Chuck felt a pang of sadness at having to hurt her, and he quickly reached out and rested his hand over hers. "I wasn't thinking like that, Sarah. Not at all."

It took her a moment to respond, for her body to lose that scary stillness. "No?" she asked softly, looking at him with sad eyes.

He shook his head quickly. "I'm sorry for hurting you, but you deserve to know the truth, and . . . and your dad doesn't know everything, Sarah. Just because he thinks something is one way doesn't mean that's how it is, and-and the only reason I have for spending time with you is because I like you."

Chuck was reassured that she didn't look so sad anymore. But she wasn't saying anything, and after exposing his feelings like that, he felt shy and uncertain.

A soft touch drew his eyes to their hands. Instead of his hand resting over hers, now she was holding his hand. He pressed his fingers against hers, enjoying the feel of her hand against his. He lifted his eyes to her face.

Sarah held his gaze for a moment. "Thank you for telling me." She paused and took a breath. "Not many people tell me the truth."

"I'm sorry," he said softly. He felt an urge to move closer to her, to comfort her somehow.

She shook her head. "You don't have to be sorry." She gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand gently.

"You're okay?" he asked, searching her face.

"You didn't tell me anything I didn't already know, Chuck," she said, her voice soft. "It was hard to hear, but . . . but yeah, I'm okay."

He took a breath. "Okay." He gave in to his instincts and inched closer to her. He looked at her. "You want to talk about something else?"

Sarah nodded quickly. "Yes. Tell me about California."

Chuck looked out over the landscape, taking in the way the setting sun lent color to the view. "In California . . . there's so much color. The blue of the sky, brown and tan in the mountains and the sandy soil, and every color flower that you can imagine." He looked at Sarah and saw that she was listening closely, as if she was hungry for every detail, no matter how small.

"In the springtime, the smell of the flowers is so strong. Everything's blooming and growing, and the scents-they get almost too strong, too powerful. But all the colors are really, really pretty."

"Is that your favorite time?" Sarah asked softly.

He smiled at her. "Actually, I like the fall better. The days get a bit cooler, and you like being outside again after all the heat of the summer."

Slowly, memories that he had forgotten came to mind as he spoke. Sarah was such a good listener: attentive, her eyes never leaving his, and asking questions occasionally. And it was so clear that she craved this kind of information. He thought of the longing in her voice when she had expressed her desire to travel. It was clear that she knew what she wanted, and what she wanted was to see the world.

He kept talking as the sun slipped below the horizon and the sky became a soft purple. The heat of the day faded away and the air quickly became chilly. Sarah shivered in her short-sleeved shirt and Chuck stopped talking.

"Oh-you must be cold. Here, here-" Chuck moved, collecting the plates and dishes from their picnic and moving them off the blanket. Then he picked up the blanket and wrapped it around Sarah's shoulders. "Better?" he asked, looking at her.

One of her hands snaked out to hold the blanket around her. Sarah smiled at him. "A lot better. Thank you." She sighed regretfully. "Although I suppose it's time for us to wrap this up."

"Yeah," Chuck said, wishing he didn't have to agree with her. But she was right-it was getting late.

They worked together to pack the dishes into the saddlebags, then Chuck and Sarah resaddled their horses. Chuck lifted up the saddlebags and set them into position on Sarah's horse. Then, he turned to look at her. He felt another stab of shyness, but even stronger was the happiness he felt. This had been a perfect evening: full of good conversation and good food and lots of smiles. And they'd even held hands.

"I feel like I did all the talking tonight," Chuck said, scuffing the toe of his boot against the ground.

"Because I was asking you questions," Sarah said, smiling softly at him.

He gazed at her, taking in just how pretty she was in the moonlight. "Maybe . . . maybe we could do this again and I could ask you questions?"

It felt like he waited a thousand years for her answer, but it was probably only a moment or two. Then, she smiled wider and nodded her head. "I'd like that."

Chuck felt a smile spread over his face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she repeated, still nodding her head.

There was a buzz in his ears that sounded like music, making him want to dance. She wanted to spend more time with him!

He smiled at her. "That's-that's really great. When?"

"I . . . I don't know," Sarah said, looking a bit nervous. "It'll depend on when I think I can get away again."

"I don't like sneaking around . . ." Chuck said, gazing at her. "I'd rather do this honestly."

"Me, too, but just gimme some time, Chuck." She looked at him, raising her chin. "We'll make it honest soon, I swear." Chuck found himself nodding, swayed by her determination. She smiled at him softly. "Thanks."

He could feel his present for her resting heavily in his pocket, so he took a deep breath. "I got you something."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You did?"

Chuck nodded. "Yeah. I wasn't sure if you'd like flowers or chocolates, so . . ." He drew out the globe and held it out to her.

Sarah took it carefully and held the globe up to the light from the moon. He held his breath, waiting to see what her reaction was. Perhaps it was a stupid idea . . .

When she looked at him, he was surprised to see how bright her eyes were. He swallowed. "Do you like it?"

Her voice was a bit choked. "I love it. Thank you." She looked at him for a moment, and then she moved close to him and rested her free hand lightly on his chest. "And I had the best time tonight, Chuck."

His heart was pounding so hard, he was sure Sarah could feel it under her hand. He had to clear his throat before he could answer. "You-you're welcome, Sarah."

She smiled softly at him. Then, to his surprise, she lifted herself up on her toes and pressed her mouth against his.

Chuck closed his eyes, his heart beating even faster. Her lips were soft and warm, and they felt so good against his. He gently pressed against her mouth, hoping he was doing this right. He'd never really kissed anyone, and . . .

All his thoughts drifted away as he kept kissing Sarah. Because it was impossible to think of anything but her.

End, Chapter 6