Page 7 of In Her Sights

"So I've been told." Jackson ignored his friend as he put the Winchester rifle back into the glass display case.

"You know, if you keep turning her down, she'll eventually give up."

One could only hope.

Randal leaned over the counter and stared Jackson straight in the eye. "What do you have against her? She seems a nice sort. Not as pretty as some, but she's not hard to look at."

Not hard to look at? He didn't know anyone easier. That curly hair and spattering of freckles reminded him of his first crush—Joanna Robbins. Her kind heart did too. Only Tessa had a special spark all her own, one that called to something inside him he hadn't realized was there. Joanna had been too old for him and had done her best to discourage his interest by treating him like a little brother. Tessa, on the other hand, went out of her way to encourage him, to the point where resistance was beginning to feel futile.

"The problem's not with her." Jackson kept his voice low so Randal's grumpy father wouldn't overhear. "You remember what happened when I first came to town and started showing interest in Mary Hanover? Her mother made sure the entire town knew my relation to Sam Spivey, drunkard and felon. I ain't fit company for decent women. Being with Tessa would harm her reputation. I think too highly of her to let that to happen."

Randal rolled his eyes. "First, Tessa James has no mama in town to thwart your courtship, so you don't have to worry about a repeat of the Mary Hanover situation. Besides, I think you dodged a bullet there. I tried some of Mary's sweet potato pie at the last church social. Thing tasted like a salt lick." He pulled a comical face that earned a quiet chuckle from Jackson. "Second, Tessa's been around long enough to hear all that talk, and it hasn't discouraged her none. The girl knows her own mind."

Well, that was certainly true.

Randal cleared his throat in a you-better-heed-the-sage-advice-I'm-about-to-impart manner and hit Jackson with a serious look at odds with his shaggy, carefree appearance. "Seems to me, if you care for the girl at all, your best bet is to have a sit-down with her. Lay out all the reasons why you're so bad for her. See what she says. If she doesn't care about none of that, then neither should you." His friend reached across the counter and thumped Jackson's arm. "If you decide you don't want her, put in a good word for me, would ya? I wouldn't mind givin' her a few shooting lessons. Might afford a fella a good excuse to put his arms around a gal, all in the name of target practice."

Jackson clenched his jaw. "Put your arms around her, and I'll use you for target practice."

Randal laughed. "Well, at least now we know where you stand."

Yep. In the middle of Doomstown.

"Do you think he'll show?" Laura Marshall held a carpetbag open as Tessa stuffed an odd assortment of items inside.

"I don't know." Tessa tried to keep her tone and her heart positive, but she suspected her friend saw through her manufactured sunniness.

Laura possessed a keen eye for detail. It made her an expert at crafting intricate millinery designs and adding delicate beadwork to Mrs. Elliott's more stylish ensembles. However, it also made it impossible for Tessa to hide anything from her. Not that she needed to hide. Laura was her closest friend. She already knew everything. Knew about Tessa's feelings for Jackson and her dreams of opening her own dress shop one day. Why, it had been Laura who'd first seen the advertisement in the paper about Annie Oakley. The two of them had plotted for hours in the back room of Mrs. Elliott's shop while they'd stitched seams and beaded bodices, fashioning a strategy to turn Jackson's head by having Tessa take up shooting. Perhaps her forced optimism was more to convince herself that their plan was working than to reassure her friend.

Tessa shoved her pistol case to the bottom of the carpetbag, followed by the secret sewing project she'd been working on in the evenings since returning from Austin four days ago. She topped things off with a giant roll of cotton batting, then grunted as she struggled to squeeze the fluffy batting down far enough to close the bag.

"He seemed a little reluctant to help me with my shooting," she admitted.

More than a little, if she were being honest. Yet, she'd expected that reaction. Jackson tended to avoid female company. She'd hoped the addition of guns to the outing would sway him to accept her invitation, but she'd been prepared for his hesitation. She'd just have to build on the positives and ignore the negatives.

"He didn't refuse the invitation directly, so I'm hopeful he'll stop by. To satisfy his curiosity, if nothing else. My pronouncement about taking up shooting did render him speechless for a time."

Laura chuckled. "I imagine it did."

Having finally fastened the bag's clasp, Tessa gripped the handle and her resolve with equal strength. "Even if he doesn't show up today, that's all right. I still need to activate the pistol's power anyhow." Heat suffused her cheeks. "That sounds utterly ridiculous when I say it out loud."

Laura's kind eyes met hers. "Who are we to say what is ridiculous and what isn't? I'm sure the Israelites thought Joshua was off his rocker when he told them they were going to defeat Jericho by peacefully walking around the city for seven days. And we know how silly Naaman felt about washing in the Jordan River to cure his leprosy. Yet God accomplished both outcomes. Faith isn't confined by logic. This pistol isn't magical, but the way it came into your possession feels providential. God can work through anything, Tessa. Even a pink pistol with a melodramatic note."

"So, you don't think I'm crazy?"

Laura shook her head, and a weight lifted from Tessa's chest. "Not crazy. Hopeful." She placed a hand on Tessa's arm. "I'm rooting for you. You know that."

Tessa nodded.

"Besides," Laura said with a mischievous grin, "if you and Jackson end up together, I know just the lady you can send the pistol to next."

"Oh? Who's that?"

"My cousin Rena." Laura's expression sobered. "She's had a rough go of it the last couple years. She suffered an injury that left her believing no man will ever want her. It's so sad. She's talked about visiting my brother out in Oregon and making a fresh start. The pistol could offer her some measure of protection, and if she gives it a chance, maybe it will lead her to someone who can see past her scars to the wonderful woman inside."

"You don't want a turn with the pistol yourself?" Tessa asked.

Laura grinned as she shook her head. "No, thanks. I plan to find my true love the old-fashioned way."