Engaging the Competition (8 page)

He did care enough about Charlie to sacrifice for her, but that didn't mean jumping into marriage was wise. He might want to be Charlie's hero, but could he remain one if he married her?

But now that he'd kissed her . . . could he live with himself if he'd made her situation worse and didn't rectify it, no matter the cost?

He'd told himself he couldn't get involved with Charlie because she brought the worst out in him, but was the reverend right? Had he become a better man because of her?

Would a better man let her go without a fight?

The following afternoon, Harrison caught up with Reverend McCabe's buckskin about two hundred yards from Charlie's gate. “Good afternoon, Reverend.”

The reverend's eyebrows rose. “Didn't expect to see you out this way.”

Harrison shrugged and slowed Dante to match the reverend's horse's gait. He didn't want to talk more with the reverend until he'd discussed things with Charlie. His father had helped him work through his reservations—or maybe just admit that they were normal—and he wanted to get past them, with Charlie's help if she was willing. “Where're you headed?”

The reverend tipped his head toward Charlie's rambling ranch house, where the late afternoon sun glinted off its many windows. “The Andrews ranch.”

“Me too.” He rubbed his face. Maybe this wasn't the best time to talk to her. He didn't want to make the reverend's visit awkward by hanging around outside. “How long are you expecting to be?”

“Oh, a wedding usually takes no more than a half hour.”

“A wedding?” Harrison strangled his reins and searched the ranch's yard for Whitakers.

“That's why I was surprised you came. I wouldn't expect you to be a witness after what you told me.”

“I'm not planning to be.” With difficulty he kept Dante alongside the reverend's horse. “Why didn't you tell me they were getting married today?”

“It wasn't settled until this morning. I figured you'd had your say last night and this was the result.”

“Excuse me.” He urged Dante to run, leaving the reverend in the dust.

The front door opened when he was about fifty yards from the house. Charlie stepped out in a pretty rose-colored skirt and lace-trimmed white shirtwaist, shielding her eyes with her hand.

He pulled on his reins.

“Harrison?” Her voice warbled. “What're you doing here?”

Kicking his feet out of the stirrups, he put his hand on his pommel, then hiked his right leg over the cantle of the saddle—though Dante hadn't yet stopped—and hit the ground.

“You're a better horseman than I would've expected.” The light in her eyes actually looked like appreciation.

A sudden desire to keep that look in her eyes by remounting and dismounting his horse again was difficult to suppress. “My uncle has a horse ranch up near Freedom. I spent a lot of time riding with him as a kid.” Horses never made fun of his thick glasses. “I'm probably better at a lot of things you wouldn't expect. Like shooting.”

She huffed, and her hands found her hips—like usual. “I already apologized for that incident. I'd hoped you'd forgive me now that you know I wasn't trying to make your shooting look worse than it was.”

“No, I mean I can shoot better than you.” He tapped his sidearm. “Right now.”

Her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth rose with mirth. “Perhaps.”

“I can prove it.”

“All right.” Her smile turned a bit patronizing.

He wanted to kiss that look right off her.

“Are you all right, Harrison?”

He stood blinking at her. For years, he'd imagined how she'd look when he told her he could outshoot her—patronizing, condescending, smug. He'd dreamt hundreds of times of throwing a penny into the air and shooting it dead center—which of course he couldn't do, but in his dreams he did—and that show of skill would wipe her smile right off.

Never had he dreamt of swiping it off with his lips against hers.

And now he was torn over which way he wanted to proceed with the swiping.

“Well, are you going to prove it?”

“Right.” This needed to be done anyway. He pulled his gun from his holster and looked around for a worthy target. “That piece of weathered siding leaning against the maple tree, see the dark swirl that looks like an elongated heart?”

“Yes.”

The board was roughly twenty yards away. He blew out a breath, erased his mind, and went through his paces. Checked his grip, his
feet position, weight distribution, his aim. He relaxed, slowly exhaled, and shot.

A chip of wood splintered just slightly left of the middle of the heart.

“Good job.” She pulled out her own gun. What other woman
in the world would have a pistol on her side with her wedding within the hour?

She quickly aimed and shot.

Her bullet hit the upper right lobe of the heart. “See, we both hit it.”

“I'll do it again.” He could do better. Again he went through his paces.

This bullet was pretty dead center, splintering his previously splintered wood.

“Impressive.” She quickly brought up her piece and shot again. This time she was closer to his holes than her own.

He took his time and shot once more.
Bang.
Hit his first hole slightly to the right.

Her next shot hit the tip of the heart. She lowered her gun, and her mouth scrunched to the side.

He kept quiet. He'd not declare himself the winner, no gloating. Until now, he hadn't realized how immature his dream of rubbing her face in his triumph was.

And now that he knew she'd never meant to hurt him, what she smelled like, what her lips tasted like, he had no desire to do any sort of hooting and hollering. Yet he yearned for her to admit he'd bested her. Not because he wanted her to admit defeat, but because he longed for her admiration.

He'd come to decide whether or not to pursue her.

He'd know which he'd be doing by the next words out of her mouth.

She spun her pistol on her finger with a flourish—which he couldn't help but roll his eyes at—then holstered her piece. “Good shooting, partner.”

He smiled, and all the tension left his body.

“Now, I'm not so sure a criminal's going to stand still long
enough for you to shoot him so accurately.” She winked and then pointed back to the siding. “But that wood's definitely dead. You've got an impressive shot group there.”

“Charlie?” He holstered his gun and waited until she looked at him. “Do you really think you could love a man who can outshoot you?”

Her smile immediately flipped down. “Not sure how well August shoots, but that doesn't—”

“No, not August. Me.”

Charlie couldn't have heard him right. “You?”

“But you need to know, I don't want to give up teaching. Ranching doesn't hold my heart. I can't take back the fact that I'm a better shooter than you, but I can use it to help you.”

“I wouldn't want you to take it back. I'm impressed.” Along with being impressed that he owned that fancy .44–40 Colt Frontier six-shooter he'd tucked away in his holster. “You're better at other things too, but that doesn't mean I'd want you to give up those skills either.”

“Better at what?”

Her cheeks heated, and she couldn't keep her eyes on his. “Learning and . . . kissing.”

He laughed. “You
were
rather bad at kissing.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. How could she have been any good if she'd never done it before? And he'd surprised her. By the time she'd gotten over the shock, they'd been interrupted.

“You could definitely use more practice.”

She bit her lip and looked up at him. She'd thought she'd lost his friendship forever, but now his eyes seemed to be promising something more. All she'd expected was his forgiveness,
but could her dreams of more actually come true? But last Friday . . . “You told me you weren't going to marry me after you kissed me.”

“Not anytime soon.”

But he would later? Her hands grew clammy. A flicker of movement over his shoulder caused her to straighten. August.

Atop his huge horse, August rode up behind the reverend, with one of his farm hands following.

Harrison followed her gaze and looked behind him. He nodded stiffly at August, who acknowledged him with a matching nod.

August looked back at her, his face impassive. “I figured your mother would be witness.”

“Momma,” Charlie whispered. The warmth that had been bubbling beneath her skin disappeared. She hugged herself and groaned. “I'm
sorry, Harrison, but I can't wait with no guarantee.” She turned to look up at Momma's second story window. Where had she gone?

“What'd you say?” August dismounted. He was so large, all it seemed he had to do was step off his horse.

She pulled her eyes off August and looked at Harrison, whose eyebrows were raised in anticipation of her response. “I can't lose my house and possibly my mother. I just can't.”

What a cruel, cruel choice to put before her. Even though she wanted to marry for love, could she force Momma to confront Daddy's death before her heart and mind were ready to do so?

Even though she wanted to marry for love, could she live with driving Momma to insanity to do so?

August came up to Harrison, towering over him by at least six inches. “You're here for the wedding?”

“Hopefully not today.” He pushed his glasses up to look at August. “I'd rather she marry me.”

“Oh?” August looked at her with narrowed eyes. He thrust his thumb sideways at Harrison. “You do know Royal doesn't like him. He ain't going to be fond of you choosing either of us, but without me, things'll get worse.”

“What's he talking about?” The reverend had dismounted and came in closer.

Charlie ran her hands through her hair, knocking down her attempt at putting it up earlier. “Royal's been stealing from me and luring away my help. That's why my ranch hands are gone and I've cut down on my animals. If I don't marry now, I'm going to have to sell things to pay taxes, which I can do, but that won't stop Royal from hurting my farm. That's why I proposed to August.”

Harrison's face twisted with confusion. “If you aren't going to lose the property right away, why marry so quickly?”

She shrugged. “It didn't really matter when I'd lose the place, just that I would.” Despite the warble in her voice, she pushed out the rest. “No man's ever proposed to me. Why would I expect anyone to do so months or years from now if I'd never captured even one man's interest before?”

The reverend smiled. “Seems you've got two grooms to choose from today.”

Harrison ran a hand through his hair. “I'm not going to lie. I don't think we should marry now. I care too much about you to saddle you with me if I don't suit. I want to give you time to be certain.”

“If you're thinking of cutting me for him, don't expect me to take you back.” August's cheek muscles twitched. “And sparking with Harrison ain't going to keep Royal away.”

Harrison pointed a finger at August. “You need to tell your brother that'd be stupid. You've just admitted to what he's doing in front of me and the reverend—that's admission of guilt.”

He backed away. “I admitted nothing.”

“Oh,” The reverend's smile grew large. “I think you incriminated him enough. A judge would be very interested in what I've heard.”

Harrison nodded decisively. “And you tell your brother I'll get Joe Limpett to guard the place for Charlie. He's been looking for a new job.”

“Joe?” August sucked air through his teeth.

Joe wouldn't leave her to work for Royal, not after he'd knocked two of Joe's little sister's teeth out in second grade. But how could Harrison afford to hire anyone on her behalf?

She tugged on his arm. “I appreciate you wanting to help me, but if I can't afford to hire Joe as a guard, you can't either.”

“I have what I've saved up for more schooling.”

More schooling? She had to smile. Only he'd think a college education was inadequate. How could he possibly have fun unless he was studying for more tests?

Harrison took both of her hands. “If necessary, I can keep your place afloat until you've got things back to rights.”

“With the expectation of marrying me?”

He nodded.

“What if you figure out I don't suit?” She ran a hand across her mouth. “If you decide against me, I'll lose the house.”

His smile turned sultry. “I don't think I'll be deciding against you.”

She glanced at August.

Harrison's grip loosened.

“You gonna choose him over me?” August growled.

“I . . .” She swallowed and couldn't keep eye contact with August any longer.

“I see how this is going.” August stomped back to his horse. “I'm not going to stand around as some booby prize. I'm through. I'll
come back for my cattle later.” With a quick kick to his horse, he turned toward the road, and his man followed.

She stared after August, watching him and the surety of keeping her house disappear.

“Charlie, I'll see to it that Royal doesn't mess with you any longer, even if I have to come out here every evening on guard duty. Without his interference, I'm sure you and a few good hands can get your place running smoothly again.”