CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Margaret Learns to Shoot

At dinner, Heath and JR—who, Heath noticed, now wore his gun belt—told Margaret about the threat, although they didn't go into detail.

"Who are the men?" Margaret asked.

"Sweeny, O'Connell, and Diego," Heath answered.

"I know who Sweeny and Diego are," she said, "But I don't know O'Connell."

"He's a big man—about the size of your daddy," Heath said. "He usually shaves his head."

"Oh, yeah. I know who he is."

"You need to stay in the house at all times," JR stated.

Heath raised an eyebrow at him.

"Unless, of course, you're with me or Heath." JR swallowed hard. "Heath wants to teach you how to shoot."

Margaret, who had sat stoically throughout the discussion, finally smiled. "I'd love to learn to shoot."

"Immediately after breakfast tomorrow," Heath said. He glanced at JR. "We'll set up some targets in the backyard. Is that okay?"

JR nodded. "I can help you with that."

XXXXX

Nick and Sam hopped off the train, carrying their saddlebags. "Hold up a sec. I wanna see if Jarrod sent a telegram." He ran around the corner of the station to the telegraph office. "Any telegrams for me?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Barkley. I was going to send it out to the ranch, but Jarrod said to hold it for you. Evidently, it wasn't all that urgent." Elmer rested his chin on his hands and smiled at Nick.

Nick moved his weight from one leg to the other. "Elmer, could I please just have the telegram?" he asked as patiently as he could.

"Oh, of course, Mr. Barkley. Of course. I put it right here—somewhere." Elmer searched his desk.

Nick tried to swallow his rising temper.

"Oh, here it is!" Elmer picked up a telegram. "Uh, no. That one's for the sheriff. Boy golly, I hope I didn't send your telegram to him . . . ."

"Elmer, you got five seconds!"

Elmer frantically searched through the mess on the desk. "Here. Here it is." He handed the paper to Nick.

Nick tore it open and read quickly. "Heath released. Be on early train." Nick sighed and passed the paper to Sam.

"Thank God," Sam said with a sigh.

"Thank God," Nick agreed. They walked across the road and down a block to the livery station, passing a bar along the way. It was packed to overflowing on this Saturday night. Music and laughter and yelling and smoke all oozed out the batwing doors. But Nick wasn't even tempted. He wanted to get home to his wife and boys.

He rented a horse for each of them. "You ready to go home?"

"Yes, sir," Sam said.

"Me, too." And he surely was.

XXXXX

Before dawn Sunday morning, Heath found a variety of objects for shooting practice and arranged them behind the house. He then went in and had breakfast with JR and Margaret, then took Margaret into the study. While he went over all the gun safety rules and had Margaret repeat them to him, JR moved papers around on his desk.

Then Heath showed Margaret the parts of the gun, how to load one, how to unload one, how to clean one. And, again, he asked her questions about safety and had her repeat them to him. He showed her how to hold the gun and aim it. He explained gun weight and recoil.

"Ready to shoot?" he asked.

"Yes," Margaret answered.

Heath glanced at JR, who was still shuffling papers. "Would you like to watch?"

JR shrugged. "I'll come out in a bit."

Once outside, Heath faced Margaret. "I want to shoot it once or twice to see if it shoots straight and if it has any issues." He pointed to his left. "You stand back there. When I shoot, see if you can see the recoil."

"Okay," Maragret said.

Heath aimed at the smallest target, one he'd drawn on a piece of paper and hung on a tree. He shot twice, then looked at Margaret. "Did you see?"

"Yes, but it didn't move as much as I thought."

"Let me shoot one-handed and you'll see it better." Heath waited for her to step back, then shot one-handed at the target, allowing a bit more recoil than he normally would.

"I saw it that time."

"Good."

"Did you miss the target?" she asked.

Heath smiled. "I don't think so. C'mon, let's check." They walked to the distant target whose bullseye was difficult to see from where he'd shot.

Margaret looked at the paper. "Oh, it does look like you made one of them. Right in the middle."

"Look again," Heath said, trying not to grin.

She shrugged. "I just see one bullet hole."

"Look closer."

"It's not entirely round. There's a slight lip on the right side."

"That's where the third bullet went."

"Then where—"

Heath's half-smile lit his face.

Margaret looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "I hope you don't expect me to shoot like that!"

"Not today," Heath answered. "But by the end of the week."

Margaret laughed.

"I'm serious," Heath said. "No reason you can't do that."

"As heavy as that gun is, I don't think I could hold it as steady as you did. And I certainly couldn't shoot three in the same spot."

"Let's see what you can do." Heath handed the revolver to her. He stood slightly behind her and to her right and helped her grip the revolver with her right hand, then reached around her to help her place her left hand correctly.

Before he realized he was wrapped around her, his body reacted. Heath quickly stepped back. Keep your mind on what you're doing.

"If you don't grip the gun correctly, you ain't gonna shoot well." He adjusted her grip again.

"Now, let's talk about how to stand." He took the revolver from her. "We're gonna shoot at that closest, largest target, so face it directly." He waited for her to adjust. "Point your feet towards the target. Now spread your feet about shoulder-width apart." Heath smiled. "That's the girl. Now, bend your knees. Not that much. Good. Good. How does that feel?"

"A little weird," she said.

"If you want to move your non-shooting foot—your left foot—forward a little bit, you can."

Margaret did. "That feels better."

"Now, point both your arms straight out." He handed her the revolver. "Remember how to grip it?"

She took a breath. "I didn't realize this was so hard."

"It'll feel natural to you soon."

Margaret tried to remember how to grip the revolver. She placed her right hand correctly, but then fumbled with her left.

"Up a little. Let your thumb tuck in. There you go!" Heath coached. "Now, make sure you keep that grip and get your legs spread again."

"I hadn't realized I moved," she stated.

"That's okay. Now, how does that feel?"

"A little awkward."

"Keep your arms straight. You can lock your elbows if you want, but if you don't control the recoil with your wrists, it can jerk your elbow if it's locked."

She adjusted again. "Still feels awkward."

"If you want to bend your waist and lean forward a little bit, go ahead."

Margaret did. "That feels better."

"Good. Is your grip still right?"

"I think so."

Heath examined her grip. "Yep. Looks good. Ready to shoot?"

"Yes."

"You look good. Remember to expect the recoil and try to keep the gun level."

"Okay."

Heath took a step back. "Hold it steady. Aim. Fire."

Margaret squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, and she relaxed her posture and brought the revolver straight down.

Heath grabbed her shooting arm and then jerked the revolver away from her. "Don't ever do that!"

"What?"

"You wanna lose a foot?"

Margaret stared at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You pointed a loaded revolver at your foot! You never aim a gun at nuttin' you ain't planning to shoot. Remember? We repeated that several times!"

"I'm sorry," she said, her lip quivering. "Please, don't be angry with me."

Heath swallowed and reduced the volume of his voice. "I'm not angry, sweetie. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"Okay. I'm sorry," she repeated.

"You just have to be really careful when you're handling a gun." Heath let out a breath. "I know it's a lot to remember, but it's important."

Margaret's shoulders dropped. "I don't think I can do this."

"Yes, you can. It's like anything else. You gotta practice." He gave her a hint of a smile. "You did hit the target."

"Yeah, but clear down at the bottom."

Heath nodded. "But pretty much in the center. That means you just need to aim a little higher. It will take some time for you to get a feel for how much a bullet will drop as it travels, but just remember that the farther away your target is, the more the bullet will drop, so then you need to shoot higher than your target." He handed the gun back to her. "Wanna try again?"

"Okay." She concentrated on placing her feet and then on gripping the revolver.

Heath examined her grip. "Good! Perfect!"

She straightened her arms, and he again checked her over. "Shoot when you're ready." He stepped back.

This time, she shot twice. The first went too high and the second too low. She immediately set the safety and placed the gun on the table Heath had brought out, making sure it pointed away from them.

"Good," Heath stated. "Your second shot went low because of the recoil."

"I felt it."

"That's all six bullets," Heath stated. "Let's see if you can replace 'em."

He continued to work with her until lunch time.

"You're doin' great," Heath said. He wanted to hug her, but he'd seen JR watching from his study window a few times. "How's your wrist?"

"Sore. I don't think I can shoot anymore."

"You done a lot. I hope we didn't overdo. Hopefully, your wrist will be better tomorrow, and we'll practice some more." He smiled. "It's gonna be more fun from here on out."

Margaret sighed. "I hope so."

Heath glanced at JR's study window. No one was there. Heath bent down and kissed Margaret's cheek.

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