The Bride's Prerogative (55 page)

Libby nodded with approval. “That’s a good idea. Then no one can complain.”

Bitsy and Opal approached with Augie helping carry stacks of large paper targets.

“These things are barely dry,” Bitsy called, swishing along in her red bloomers, “but I think we’ve got plenty now.”

Libby grabbed Trudy’s arm and pulled her aside. “Do you think we’re doing the right thing?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“I really don’t want to intimidate the men. Some of them are our friends.”

Trudy frowned and placed her free hand on her hip. “Libby, if you don’t want to shoot, that’s fine. Just go cross your name off the list. But I’ve worked hard for the club, and I’ve taken a lot of grousing from the men of this town. I’m going to shoot today.”

Libby glanced toward where Hiram and Ethan were helping the mayor set up seats for the judges. “All right. I guess.” She bit her bottom lip. “Is your brother shooting?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

Trudy shrugged. “Hiram hates to call attention to himself.”

“Well … so do I. And if Hiram can be modest, so can I.”

“Aw, Libby, no.”

She felt the annoying blush begin under her lacy collar. “I don’t think I want all those cowboys watching me shoot. And what if I miss completely?”

“Then you’ll be out after the first round, and no one will stare at you any longer. Come on, Libby. Please? You’re just nervous. Hi will be disappointed if you don’t do it.”

“You’re just saying that.” Libby couldn’t help sneaking a glance toward the cluster of men. Hiram met her gaze from twenty yards away and smiled gently.

“I’m serious. When he came back with Ethan, carrying this rifle, he said to me, ‘Libby’s going to give it a try, isn’t she?’ I told him you were, and he grinned like a little kid with a nickel in his pocket. He wants to see you shoot his rifle.”

“That’s silly.” Libby felt her face go a shade deeper.

“No, it’s not. He’s been more supportive of our club than anyone else in town. He wants to see us beat those men.”

Libby flicked another glance. Hiram was moving benches and didn’t see her this time. “I’ll lose.”

“So what? You’ll be the most beautiful contestant of the day.” Trudy turned toward the starting line. “Oh look! Bertha and Orissa have set up a table and are giving out the numbers. Let’s get ours.” She took Libby’s arm and propelled her toward the judges’ table.

“Hello, ladies.” Bertha’s wide frame dwarfed the chair the men had brought out from the schoolhouse. “Would you like to pick your numbers?”

“Yes, we would.” Trudy shot a hard glance at Libby. “Both of us.” She stuck her hand into the flour sack Orissa held. “Twenty-seven. Could be worse.”

“Hey.”

The soft voice in her ear sent tingles down Libby’s spine. She whirled and faced Hiram.

“You gonna shoot my Sharps?” he asked.

“Well …”

Hiram shoved his hat back and smiled. “It’s a sight I’m looking forward to.”

She swallowed down the lump in the back of her throat. “It seems so silly.”

He shook his head. “No. This town needs some good, wholesome entertainment now and then.”

Ethan stood beside him, smiling broadly. “It would be dishonest if you ladies didn’t shoot. You wouldn’t let some half-baked cowpoke take the prize, would you, when you could shoot circles around him?”

“Come on, Libby, pick your number.” Trudy’s blue gray eyes coaxed her. “Those cowboys that caused the trouble at Bitsy’s place are bragging how they’re going to win the pistol.”

Hiram’s eyes perfectly matched his sister’s and had a powerful effect on Libby. Sometimes she thought his eyes spoke when he kept quiet. But today he actually voiced his opinion. “You can do it. We all want to see you put those loudmouthed hands from the Martin ranch in their place.”

Her cheeks grew warm. “Oh, I couldn’t do that. Maybe Trudy could.”

Hiram nodded. “Sure. Let Trudy dig their grave with her shooting. Then you come along and push ‘em in.”

Libby had to laugh. “All right, I’ll take my turn. But I don’t expect to be in the final round.” She stepped forward, her pulse pounding. It still felt boastful to set herself up to shoot against half the men in town, but how could she refuse Hiram’s gentle prodding?

She thrust her hand into Orissa’s flour sack and pulled it out.

“Oh no.”

Hiram grinned. “Number one. You’ll show them how it’s done.”

She found herself smiling but blushing as she shook her head in protest.

A scant fifteen minutes later, Peter called, “Ladies and gentlemen, the first four contestants in our shooting match: Mrs. Elizabeth Adams, Miss Vashti Edwards, Mr. Augie Moore, and Mr. Arthur Tinen Jr.”

The four walked to the shooting line carrying their weapons. Everyone in town crowded the edges of the line. Libby shoved her bonnet off her forehead and let it fall down her back.

“You will fire five rounds at your targets,” Peter said. Stillness fell over the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, on your marks. Get ready. Fire at will.”

Libby’s hands shook as she raised the Sharps. Hiram’s rifle. And he was watching. Three guns cracked, and she hadn’t fired with them. She inhaled and held her breath then pulled the trigger. She was sure she’d missed the target clean.

“Come on, Miz Adams!” Florence yelled from the side. Of course, Starr would root for Arthur, but the rest of the ladies would want Libby and Vashti to shine.

Then she heard it. Low and quiet, just before the others fired again, Hiram’s voice reached her.

“You can do it, Libby.”

She gritted her teeth and focused on the target.

“I’ll now announce the names of the ten shooters who will advance to the second round,” Peter shouted. “Let me say that it was a difficult choice.”

Ethan looked over at Ted Hire, who had joined him, Bertha, and Orissa in examining the targets and judging the scores.

“Really
difficult,” Ted muttered. “Hope no one holds it against me.”

Ethan smiled. He scanned the crowd and located Trudy and Libby standing near the other club members who had entered the contest.

Peter coughed and held up the sheet of paper Orissa had delivered to him. “I’ll read the names in order of score, with the highest score first. These ten will start with a clean slate in round two. They are: Miss Gertrude Dooley.”

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Ethan grinned as the enthusiastic shooting club women surged around Trudy for hugs.

Peter waited for the rumble of voices to subside. “Second, Mr. Cyrus Fennel.”

Less ardent applause sounded.

“Mr. Augie Moore. And
Mrs
. Augie Moore.”

Everyone laughed and called their congratulations to Bitsy and her husband.

“Dr. James Kincaid.”

“Ooh, I
knew
it.” Rose squealed and catapulted into the doctor’s reluctant embrace.

“That’s five.” Peter paused, looking over the people. “Mrs. Arthur Tinen Jr.”

“Congratulations, Starr!” Her husband good-naturedly slapped her on the back.

“Mr. Ned Harmon.”

The stagecoach messenger grinned and accepted the praise of his friends.

“Miss Vashti Edwards.”

The saloon girl, lately become a waitress and dishwasher, hugged Bitsy, Goldie, and the other members of the club. Peter waited until everyone was quiet again.

“I have two more names. If you’re not among ‘em, I’m sorry. We’re going by where the lead hit the targets. So if you didn’t pass muster, why maybe you should go practice more often.” He nodded and looked down at the paper. “Mr. Wilfred Sterling.”

The young cowboy swaggered about, shaking hands with the other ranch hands.

“And the tenth person moving on to the next round …”

All eyes were on Peter.

“This person missed one shot completely, but the other four shots were good enough to secure her a place in the next round.”

The men exhaled, realizing a fifth woman had made the grade.

Peter smiled. “I’m happy to say it’s another of our town council members, Mrs. Elizabeth Adams.”

CHAPTER 25

H
iram was so proud he thought he might need a bigger hat. His own little sister had outshot the whole town in the first round. That hadn’t shocked him, but Libby—lovely, fine-boned, soft-spoken Libby—had also made the final ten.

True, she’d just squeaked into the elite ranks, but it was enough.

The saloon girls in their satin gowns and the ranchers’ wives in cotton dresses milled about the five women who’d qualified, squeezing them and kissing their cheeks. Hiram stayed clear for a good ten minutes. It was only when Peter gave the call for the first four of the ten to come forward and shoot again that he edged close to Libby.

“Good shooting.”

She spun and looked into his face, her china blue eyes dancing. “Thank you.”

He nodded, still looking into those fascinating eyes. Her cheeks already bore a becoming flush. A few strands of her golden hair had escaped her bun and cascaded down along her smooth neck.

He inhaled slowly. “Mighty good.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes widened suddenly, as though she realized she’d repeated herself. “Oh. I—”

They stood for a moment, gazing at each other.

“Fire at will,” Peter shouted, and four rifles cracked.

Libby leaned toward Hiram. “I froze up at first.”

He nodded. “Take your time. Remember all the things you’ve practiced. That’s a good gun. It’ll be kind to you if you keep steady.”

“I’ll try to remember that.” She looked over her shoulder. “Oh, Trudy’s shooting.”

They both turned and stood, shoulder to shoulder, watching the contestants fire off the rest of their rounds.

When all the shooters rested their gunstocks on the ground, Ethan and Ted went to gather in the targets and replace them with new ones.

“The next four will shoot now.” Peter called the names.

“Looks like you’ll shoot last, against that cowboy.” Hiram frowned as he looked at her.

“It’s all right,” Libby said. “I know I won’t make the final. I’ll just do my best and be done with it.”

“Well, I’m proud of you.”

“Are you?”

Her tone nearly knocked him over. Was Libby flirting with him? He smiled without meaning to. “Oh yes I am.”

It seemed as though she’d leaned a little closer, and her shoulder touched his arm as they watched Doc, Starr, Ned, and Vashti prepare to fire.

Hiram reached up with his free hand and settled his hat so that the brim shaded his eyes a little better. Then he stood perfectly still, feeling the warmth of Libby’s arm through the cotton sleeve of his shirt and watching the contest.

All too soon it was Libby’s turn to shoot against Sterling.

“Good luck,” Hiram said as Trudy handed her the rifle.

Libby looked up at him and nodded before she strode to the line.

Hiram glanced at Trudy. “How’d you do?”

“Don’t know yet.”

He nodded, but he knew. Even from a distance, he’d seen how close her second group lay on the target. She must know it, too, but she wouldn’t say so. He sent up a silent prayer for Libby, that she wouldn’t be nervous.

“Hey, Wilfred,” one of Kenton Smith’s men shouted, “you can’t get beat by a woman. Let’s see some good shootin’.”

“Don’t worry,” Sterling replied. “I ain’t never been whupped by anything in skirts, and I don’t intend to commence now.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, the scores in this round are very close, so we’ll have four people advancing.”

Libby held her breath. To her surprise, she wanted to be in that final group.

Peter consulted his notes and called out, “Those shooting in our final round will be Miss Gertrude Dooley, Mrs. Elizabeth Adams, Mr. Wilfred Sterling, and Dr. James Kincaid.”

Libby clapped her hands to her face. Trudy patted her back, laughing.

“Congratulations! I knew you could do it.”

“Unbelievable,” Libby whispered.

“The finalists will have a few more minutes to prepare while we change the targets,” the mayor said.

Ethan was busy setting up the final targets, but Hiram hovered at his sister’s side.

“Can I get you ladies a drink of lemonade before the next round?”

Trudy smiled at him and leaned on the rifle with the stock on the ground. “Thanks. That would be nice.”

He hurried off before Libby could even fathom his offer.

“I’m so nervous.”

“Just take your time with each shot, but don’t overthink it,” Trudy said.

Libby wondered how she could do both. The other women clustered around them.

“Miss Trudy, I’m so proud of you.” Goldie hugged Trudy, and Vashti moved in on Libby.

“You did great, Miz Adams.”

Bitsy, Starr, Jessie, Florence, and half a dozen other women surrounded them, giving advice and wishing them luck.

“Pardon, ladies.” Hiram’s quiet voice was enough to part the waters, and a path opened for him. He handed a tin cup of lemonade to Libby and another to Trudy.

“Thank you,” Libby murmured.

“Miss Dooley, do you want me to check your gun and make sure it’s ready?” Vashti asked.

Trudy’s eyes widened. “How can we both shoot in the same round? We’re using the same rifle.”

Bitsy put an arm across her shoulders. “There, now, dearie, don’t fret. One of you can use Augie’s rifle.”

Trudy’s face cleared. “Thank you, Bitsy. I’ll use it, and Libby can take this one.” She held the Sharps out to Libby.

“Oh no. I wouldn’t think of taking your gun. I’ll accept Bitsy’s offer.”

“But you’ve never shot any other rifle,” Trudy said.

Libby shook her head adamantly. “You’re the best shot in Fergus, and we women all know it. It would be tragic if you lost because you had to shoot the final round with a gun you weren’t acquainted with. It won’t matter if I do poorly, but you’ve led this whole contest. I insist.” She reached to take the Winchester Augie had brought over.

“Oh now—”

“Hush, Trudy.” Libby glared at her. “I’m putting my foot down on this. You’re representing all of us.”

“She’s right,” Starr said. “We all want to see you win, Trudy.”

“We
need
to see you win,” Goldie added.

Bitsy pushed the Sharps back against Trudy’s chest. “Libby will be fine with Augie’s gun. Don’t you let that nasty cowboy take the prize, now, will ya?”

Peter Nash stood on the bench near the judges’ table. “Will the finalists please take their places?”

Trudy squared her shoulders. “If you really feel that way …”

“We do.” Libby hugged her, rifle and all. “I’m tickled to be standing up there with you. Now, do us proud.”

Dr. Kincaid and Sterling already waited at the shooting line. Libby and Trudy carried their weapons over and stood beside them.

“Everyone satisfied with his or her target?” Peter asked. Libby, Trudy, and the doctor nodded.

Sterling squinted down the range. “I had an end target last time.”

“By all means, switch with me, sir.” Libby sidled around him to stand between the two men.

Peter looked them all over. “Anyone object to the new positions?”

“Fine with me,” Trudy said.

The others nodded.

“Then get ready.” Peter paused while they took their shooting stances and raised their rifles.

“Fire at will.”

Libby squeezed off her five rounds quickly. The smoke hung thick around them, putting a bitter taste on her tongue. The others finished shooting.

“Check your weapons for safety, please,” Peter said.

Libby opened the breach on Augie’s gun and made sure no cartridges were left in the chamber or the magazine.

“The judges will now inspect the targets.”

Ethan, Ted, and Orissa walked across the field. Tension hung over the crowd, along with the dissipating smoke. Libby walked slowly over to Bitsy and Augie and held out the gun.

“Thank you very much.”

“My pleasure.” Augie accepted the Winchester and held it in his beefy hands.

Libby sensed someone close behind her. She looked over her shoulder. Hiram and Trudy had followed her. Hiram smiled reassuringly. Trudy kept her eyes on the field and sucked her bottom lip.

“I’m not sure about my third shot,” she muttered.

Everyone watched the three judges walk from one target to another. At last, Ethan detached them from the stands, and they ambled back toward Peter, talking in low tones.

With the mayor, the judges formed a huddle.

Griff Bane came to stand near the Dooleys and Libby.

“Ethan will give you first place no matter what.”

Trudy whirled. Her eyes shot daggers at him. “You take that back.”

Hiram stared up into the blacksmith’s dark eyes. “You know Ethan wouldn’t throw the match. He’s an honest man.”

Griffin smiled. “Reckon he is. I was just teasing, but your sister’s got a feisty temper, ain’t she?”

Peter climbed up on the bench again. His smile drooped a little.

“Folks, it’s hot, and we’re all eager to get the horse race started, but the judges have decided we need one last round. Miss Gertrude Dooley and Dr. James Kincaid will shoot again if they’re willing, to determine the winner. Oh, and third place goes to Mrs. Elizabeth Adams.”

Libby staggered. She felt as though one of Oscar’s freighting mules had kicked her. Hiram reached and took her elbow.

“You all right, Miz Adams?”

She managed to breathe. “I … I think so.”

The next few minutes blurred into a noisy clutch of women hugging, patting, and congratulating her. From the corner of her eye, Libby saw Wilfred Sterling stalk off toward the hitching rail.

“Hey, you won the box of cartridges.” Goldie grinned at her.

“I guess I did. I’d rather have won the free dinner.”

Hiram caught her eye. Libby had never seen him smile so thoroughly. With his long sorrow lifted momentarily from his shoulders, he looked as handsome and debonair as the doctor. Or even handsomer.

“Will the finalists please step forward.”

Trudy and Dr. Kincaid went to the line.

“Come on, Trudy,” Myra Harper called. “Make us proud.”

“May the best
man
win,” Micah Landry shouted. His wife elbowed him.

Rose, who had shared her box lunch with the doctor, stood at the edge of the crowd, breathlessly waving a lacy handkerchief.

“On your mark,” Peter called.

Trudy and Doc squared up, facing the targets.

“Get ready.”

They raised their rifles.

“Fire at will.”

The ten shots rang out quickly, and the crowd exhaled. The contestants broke their rifles open, and Ethan and Orissa again made the trek to the targets. Bertha, who carried extra weight, sat at the judges’ table fanning herself; and Ted had headed back into town to set up the flags for the horse race. Ethan and Orissa fetched the targets back to Bertha and laid them out on the table. All three judges leaned over them and consulted for a moment. Ethan straightened and walked over to Peter, who hadn’t bothered to climb down from his perch.

The mayor held up both hands. “Ladies and gentlemen, the judges are unanimous. The best shot in Fergus, and the winner of the Colt pistol, is Miss Gertrude Dooley.”

The women and most of the men erupted in cheers. A few sore losers shot off disparaging remarks and went in search of lemonade or something stronger. Ellie carried the wooden box with the prize to Peter, and he called Trudy over.