This Gun for Hire by Jo Goodman Page B

appreciation comes from sampling too much liquor that could make you go blind.”
    Ramsey laughed with genuine enjoyment. “You really are Calico Nash. I haven’t been entirely certain.”
    “It happens.”
    “Is it true that you tracked down Fairley Maxwell all the way to Brown’s Hole and held him there until Dan Butler’s posse caught up with you?”
    “That is what the
Denver News
reported.”
    “And that is a modest reply.”
    She finished her drink and rolled the tumbler between her palms. “Do you have questions for me regarding my ability to take on this assignment, something that will help you determine whether or not hiring me is what you really want to do?”
    “I appreciate you raising the subject. Actually, I do have questions. In order for this to work, Ann must be convinced that you are, in fact, a teacher. My daughter is quite a bright star, as was her dear mother, and if her suspicionsare aroused, nothing will keep her from putting them to rest.”
    “A trait, I assume, that can be traced to you.”
    “And you would be right. My question, then, is how will you manage this business of serving as Ann’s tutor? Have you any experience in this regard?”
    “All my experience is as a student, not as a teacher, unless you count the time I instructed Zeke Blackthorn on the proper way to clean and grease his rifle and how to shoot long range with it.”
    Ramsey cleared his throat. “No.”
    It was tempting to laugh outright, but Calico resisted the urge. “In that case, I stand by my first statement. I have only been a student. However, you need to know that I have had the good fortune to be the student of many different teachers, every one of them with considerable knowledge in their area of interest. Not
all
of my education has been in subjects that you and others would find, shall we say, unusual. I hasten to add that this view is largely on account of me being a woman and that the same tutelage in scouting, tracking, and shooting would not raise a single eyebrow if I were a man.”
    Ramsey withheld comment and merely said, “Go on.”
    “I do not want to misrepresent myself. What would pass for my formal education in no way approximates what your daughter has experienced, and as you said, she is a bright star. No one ever said that about me.”
    “Not even your father?”
    “Not in my hearing, not that anyone has ever told me.” She thought that he regarded her through eyes that were oddly sympathetic. It both surprised and discomfited her. “Do not mistake me, Mr. Stonechurch. No one has ever called me a dullard either. If there is a situation where I cannot hold my own, then I have not encountered it. That is not a boast. It is a fact.”
    Calico looked around the study and pointed out the leather-bound books that lined floor-to-ceiling shelves on two walls. “You have the tools I will require here to supportthe deception you have in mind. I will be a student all of my life. I enjoy reading, Mr. Stonechurch.”
    “Hmm.” The sound vibrated at the back of Ramsey’s throat. His expression remained considering. “Ann cannot know about the threats against me or that because of some recent events, Mr. McKenna and I suspect she is also a target.”
    “She was hurt?”
    “Narrow escapes both times. A spill from the train platform and, more recently, the collapse of the book stacks in the town library that might have crushed her if her aunt had not pushed her out of the way.”
    “I understand. Warnings, then. To you.”
    “Ann already worries unnecessarily about my health, and any inkling that I am in danger will make her dig in her heels even deeper.” Ramsey tapped his belly with his fingertips. “From time to time I experience severe discomfort of the stomach and . . . let us leave it at the stomach. My doctor has diagnosed an ulcer, for which he recommends the most vile-tasting concoction as was ever conceived. It is Dr. Pitman’s contention that these spells of physical stress