A Headstrong Woman(51)

“More than ten,” she admitted.

“More than ten?” Jonathon gawked at her. By his estimate that put her at around twenty-three or twenty four, best he could tell anyway. “I thought that you were older than that,” he admitted.

“Nope, nineteen next month,” she said nonchalantly.

Jonathon stared at her in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

Alexandria turned and frowned at him. “What do you mean am I serious? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re only eighteen?” his voice was still disbelieving.

“Let me see, nineteen…yep eighteen comes before nineteen,” she nodded.

Jonathon shook his head. Most women twice her age would not have held up half as well as she had under similar circumstances. He hadn’t realized she was so young. “You’re absolutely amazing,” he blurted what he was thinking.

“What?” Alexandria frowned at him; her cheeks were stained pink.

“Your comportment of yourself, the way you’ve handled the ranch…it does explain a few things though,” Jonathon muttered as he continued to stare at her as though she were a mystery. “What are your parents thinking letting you take this on by yourself?”

“I’m not a kid, Jonathon,” she shrugged; she was both flattered by his words and uncomfortable with them at the same time.

“What if someone hurts you…?”

“I’m a widow, Jonathon, not a school girl,” she reminded him before turning back to the cans on the fence post. “Quit staring at me like that,” she said before firing her last shot.

“Why?”

“It bothers me,” she informed him and walked over to the fence, climbed it, and claimed the cans she had shot. Five of the eleven cans had been knocked from the fence. She had fired six shots. Jonathon took each can from her and looked them over, she had done more than graze them; she had put holes through them. He looked at her in amazement.

“You’re good.”

“You taught me,” she shrugged.

“Alexandria, I put the gun in your hand and showed you how to point it.”

“There’s more to learning?” she asked with a frown.

Jonathon shook his head and set the cans back on the fence. “For you there isn’t.”

“What about the shotgun? Should I try it?” she asked him and they walked back to the barrel they were using as a table.

“You can, but I must warn you, it kicks, so brace yourself.”

“I will,” she said confidently. She lifted the gun to her shoulder, fired, and went sprawling into Jonathon who stood directly behind her. She could hear him chuckling.

“I told you to brace yourself,” his voice in her ear caused a funny sensation to run down her spine and she shuddered. “Try again,” he said after he had set her back on her feet. He kept his hands at her waist to steady her as she tried again. She stayed on her feet and came close to hitting her target. The next time she tried, she did hit her target. She gratefully put some space between herself and her foreman and laid the shotgun aside before rotating her shoulder.

“I’m glad to know how to use that thing, but I prefer the small one,” she said as she grabbed it and began practicing.

“She’s not bad,” Sparky said to Jonathon who was now leaning against the other side of the corral they were working in.

“She’s not,” Jonathon acknowledged.

“Spirit is used to guns isn’t he?” Alexandria joined them.

“That depends on why you’re asking,” Jonathon replied.

“I want to try it while riding,” she told him.

“Promise me you won’t hurt yourself or any other living creature?” he peered at her doubtfully.

“Are you saying I can’t do it?” her chin came up.

“I would never tell you that you can’t do something,” he was smiling now.

“Why’s that?” she asked, her brow furrowed.

“Because you would think you had to prove me wrong.”

“Probably,” Alexandria acknowledged with a smile.

“Okay, let’s go saddle Spirit,” Jonathon agreed.



Anna watched from the porch as Jonathon taught her sister to use a gun. She had resented watching Jonathon comfort her sister that morning but couldn’t bring herself to be angry at Alexandria. Anna had to admit that she would have been equally shaken by the event and likely would have clung to her rescuer too. What was harder to ignore was the way that Jonathon leaned in close to her sister, the smiles they kept exchanging and certainly the way her sister landed right in his arms causing him to chuckle. Or the way he helped her regain her footing, his hands on her waist and then keeping them there! Anna felt like screaming. She had been trying for weeks to get his attention, a real smile, or a compliment: anything besides his polite words that might give her hope that she stood a chance. Instead he was busy catching her sister!