A New Beginning by Amelia C. Adams

my message. Perhaps he has a photograph or some other way we can identify them.”
    “That . . . would be a good idea.” Elizabeth’s mind whirled. “Just what are these men wanted for?”
    Mr. Brody hesitated. “Murder.”
    “Murder?” She blinked a few times, trying to make sense of it all. She’d heard his words, but they didn’t seem real. “I see.”
    “I believe you do see, which is why I’ve brought you out here. Your safety is of the utmost importance, Miss Caldwell, and I plan to do something about that right now.” Mr. Brody slid his Colt from its holster and held it up. “Have you ever fired one of these?”
    Elizabeth moistened her lips, which had suddenly gone dry. “No, sir, I never have.”
    “I’m going to teach you how, and this afternoon, we’re going in to the general store and I’m going to purchase one for your use. You’re to keep it with you at all times. I mean that—no matter where you are, even here at the hotel.”
    “All right,” Elizabeth said after a long pause, even though she wanted to object. She had never even thought of firing a gun, let alone owning one herself, but as Mr. Brody spoke, she knew he was right. She couldn’t be too careful, not after what had happened the day before. And if there were murderers in town, and they were interested in her . . . “Did you happen to see those two men while you were talking to the shopkeepers?”
    “I didn’t, and no one else had seen them today either. I think they made themselves scarce after you got away from them. I’m not at all confident that they’ve left town, though, so we need to be as careful as we possibly can.”
    “I agree.” Elizabeth nodded once. “Tell me what to do.”
    Mr. Brody spent the next few minutes showing her how the Colt worked, how to load it, how to aim, and how to fire. This was obviously something that interested him, as he even knew the history of the gun and how the mechanics worked. She paid close attention to the instructions, but she was acutely aware of every movement he made, his every intake of breath. He’d spent the entire day before doing something on her behalf. Yes, he was angry because someone had tampered with his horse, but he genuinely cared about her , and she was amazed. No one had ever seen to her needs like that, with the exception of her mother. She supposed he might have done the same for Harriet, or for Abigail or Jeannette, but then he paused, looked at her, and smiled, and she knew. Straight to her heart and into her soul, she knew. This man had feelings for her that went beyond his sense of duty to a waitress in his hotel.
    “I’m sorry. What did you say?” The realization had struck her so hard, she had missed his question.
    He chuckled. “I asked if you were ready to give it a try. You must be more nervous than you’re letting on.”
    Nervous, and excited, and wondering what it all might mean . . . “I am, a bit. But I’m ready.”
    He handed her the gun and pointed straight ahead. “Your target is that tree.”
    Elizabeth took a deep breath. The gun handle felt odd, foreign—she’d never even touched a gun, let alone held one to shoot it. She brought it up at arm’s length, as he’d shown her. It was heavier than she expected, and she immediately felt a pull in her arm muscles. When she pulled the trigger, she wasn’t expecting the recoil of the gun, and she was thrown backwards into Mr. Brody’s chest.
    “I’m so sorry,” she said, her cheeks flaming. She turned around, but couldn’t meet his eyes. “That didn’t go very well, did it?”
    “It was my fault,” Mr. Brody said, sounding amused. “I didn’t warn you. Plant your feet and brace yourself, like so.” He demonstrated. “And I suspect that you closed your eyes.”
    “I did flinch,” she admitted. “It was loud.”
    “Keep your eyes open. You need to be able to see the target if you’re to hit it.”
    “Yes, I suppose that would be helpful.” She blushed