simple.” Alice dragged me from my reverie when she put the weapon in my hand.
My eyes widened at the revolver’s weight. I wondered how she’d carried a pistol and a rifle in addition to all the other accouterments soldiers wagged around.
“It holds six shots,” Alice told me as she stepped in behind me.
Her body molded to mine as she reached around me to lift my arms. “Use both hands.” Her breath feathered my ear, and I tilted my face just slightly into hers.
Despite everything, my body softened to hers. Her thumb nudged mine onto the hammer, and she pressed down until it cocked. I wondered if I’d ever be able to do this without her help and her strength.
“Brace your legs.” She patted my thigh.
I widened my stance. My pulse accelerated. My brother had regaled us with stories about how guns “kicked like a mule,” and although I’d never been kicked by one of the beasts, I could imagine the brute force one of the rugged hooves could inflict upon an intended target.
“That’s it,” Alice whispered. Her fingers trailed up my arms to the elbows where she barely lifted my arms higher. Her body countered mine. “Now squeeze back the trigger,” she told me.
I swallowed and pulled on the trigger. Drawing that little slice of metal was lots harder than I thought it’d be. Gritting my teeth, I wrapped both index fingers around the trigger and squeezed.
Pow!
My arms flew upward. My body slammed into hers. I shrieked.
Alice laughed. She laughed hard.
Ears still ringing from the blast, I whirled on her. Anger flared, but the sight of her grinning from ear to ear and holding her hands over her abdomen while she staggered and laughed melted my hot temper.
“You shot…you shot—” she attempted but ended up only pointing at the scarecrow because she couldn’t stop guffawing. Finally she dragged in a deep breath. “You shot him in the…in the damned crotch!”
I looked.
Sure enough. A gaping hole split the vee of the scarecrow’s breeches. Succumbing to a fit of laughter, I dropped to my knees on the ground and laid the pistol in the grass. Humor felt good and…strange. How long had it been since I’d had a good laugh? My sides hurt, and my face ached from smiling.
Alice rolled into the grass beside me. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” she chortled.
“It’s not to me.” I tried to feign seriousness. “I meant to shoot him in the head.”
“I think perhaps you succeeded,” she said and winked. “It was just a head of a different kind.”
My gaze linked with hers, and her smile faded. My heart turned over hard. I bit my bottom lip and cupped her cheek in my hand. All at once, awareness rippled over and through me. I breathed in the scent of the late summer grass, of the damp earth, and the bitter reek of gunpowder. The sun’s warmth permeated my black day dress until a bead of perspiration rolled down between my shoulder blades. Alice’s velvet skin grew hot in my palm.
I shut my eyes as a single tear seeped through my lashes and coursed down my cheek.
“What’s wrong, Belle?” She scooted closer and took my hand in hers, lacing her fingers with mine.
I blinked. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”
“Pretend?”
Fighting back tears, I took a deep gulp of air and blew it out. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t admit it. If I did, it would make all this real, and up until now, I hadn’t wanted to face it.
“Pretend what, Belle?”
I shook. Alice put her arm around me. “Talk to me,” she urged. “What’s the matter? Have I done something to upset you?”
“No,” I confessed. “It’s not you.”
“Then what?” Her blue eyes darkened to the gray of a storm cloud.
“Dalton’s not coming home.” I said the words I’d been unable to admit since I’d seen his name listed as missing on the casualty report from the battle at Cold Harbor.
Her forehead furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Dalton’s not coming home.” Saying the words again
My eyes widened at the revolver’s weight. I wondered how she’d carried a pistol and a rifle in addition to all the other accouterments soldiers wagged around.
“It holds six shots,” Alice told me as she stepped in behind me.
Her body molded to mine as she reached around me to lift my arms. “Use both hands.” Her breath feathered my ear, and I tilted my face just slightly into hers.
Despite everything, my body softened to hers. Her thumb nudged mine onto the hammer, and she pressed down until it cocked. I wondered if I’d ever be able to do this without her help and her strength.
“Brace your legs.” She patted my thigh.
I widened my stance. My pulse accelerated. My brother had regaled us with stories about how guns “kicked like a mule,” and although I’d never been kicked by one of the beasts, I could imagine the brute force one of the rugged hooves could inflict upon an intended target.
“That’s it,” Alice whispered. Her fingers trailed up my arms to the elbows where she barely lifted my arms higher. Her body countered mine. “Now squeeze back the trigger,” she told me.
I swallowed and pulled on the trigger. Drawing that little slice of metal was lots harder than I thought it’d be. Gritting my teeth, I wrapped both index fingers around the trigger and squeezed.
Pow!
My arms flew upward. My body slammed into hers. I shrieked.
Alice laughed. She laughed hard.
Ears still ringing from the blast, I whirled on her. Anger flared, but the sight of her grinning from ear to ear and holding her hands over her abdomen while she staggered and laughed melted my hot temper.
“You shot…you shot—” she attempted but ended up only pointing at the scarecrow because she couldn’t stop guffawing. Finally she dragged in a deep breath. “You shot him in the…in the damned crotch!”
I looked.
Sure enough. A gaping hole split the vee of the scarecrow’s breeches. Succumbing to a fit of laughter, I dropped to my knees on the ground and laid the pistol in the grass. Humor felt good and…strange. How long had it been since I’d had a good laugh? My sides hurt, and my face ached from smiling.
Alice rolled into the grass beside me. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” she chortled.
“It’s not to me.” I tried to feign seriousness. “I meant to shoot him in the head.”
“I think perhaps you succeeded,” she said and winked. “It was just a head of a different kind.”
My gaze linked with hers, and her smile faded. My heart turned over hard. I bit my bottom lip and cupped her cheek in my hand. All at once, awareness rippled over and through me. I breathed in the scent of the late summer grass, of the damp earth, and the bitter reek of gunpowder. The sun’s warmth permeated my black day dress until a bead of perspiration rolled down between my shoulder blades. Alice’s velvet skin grew hot in my palm.
I shut my eyes as a single tear seeped through my lashes and coursed down my cheek.
“What’s wrong, Belle?” She scooted closer and took my hand in hers, lacing her fingers with mine.
I blinked. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”
“Pretend?”
Fighting back tears, I took a deep gulp of air and blew it out. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t admit it. If I did, it would make all this real, and up until now, I hadn’t wanted to face it.
“Pretend what, Belle?”
I shook. Alice put her arm around me. “Talk to me,” she urged. “What’s the matter? Have I done something to upset you?”
“No,” I confessed. “It’s not you.”
“Then what?” Her blue eyes darkened to the gray of a storm cloud.
“Dalton’s not coming home.” I said the words I’d been unable to admit since I’d seen his name listed as missing on the casualty report from the battle at Cold Harbor.
Her forehead furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Dalton’s not coming home.” Saying the words again
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