Love, Come to Me(27)

“Practice shots?” Daniel asked Heath with overdone politeness.

“No, thanks.”

The cans were set up as Daniel loaded the rifle and glanced over at Heath. “You know how to handle a Spencer? It’s quite different from the muzzle-loaders you Rebs are used to.” Spencer rifles were more modern than anything the Confederates had been able to use, so modern and fast that the federal ordnance men had been afraid the Union troops would waste ammunition by firing too quickly and not taking careful aim.

“I think I can manage.” Heath stood up and walked over to the spot where they had been shooting from, his eyes narrowing as they focused on the row of tin cans. “Why don’t we take it back to two hundred,” he suggested, causing them all to murmur amongst themselves. Whatever else could be said about the Confederate, he didn’t lack brass.

With low exclamations, the group backed up several paces, so that Lucy and Sally found themselves almost in the middle of the gathering. Some of the men braced their hands against the boulder and leaned against it as they watched. Lucy sat with every muscle clenched as Daniel raised the rifle and took aim. His back was rigid and set tightly as he pulled the trigger. Shot after shot, he hit every can, making them bounce off the log cleanly. When he was through, they all released their breaths and congratulated him warmly, more than a little amazed at his skill.

Lucy was torn between a sensation of pride on Daniel’s account and a feeling of pity for Heath. There was no one who could shoot as well as Daniel, and Heath had just set himself up to look like a fool in front of the group. She wished that she wasn’t here to watch, and a feeling of protectiveness surged through her as she watched Heath take the reloaded Spencer and run his fingers lightly over the butt of the gun. Why did he feel obligated to take the world on alone?

His feet splayed apart slightly as he turned his left shoulder towards the fallen log and lifted the rifle. Lucy was surprised by the looseness of his posture. He looked as if he weren’t taking any of this seriously. She was startled by the sound of the first shot—he had barely taken time to aim! The sharp cracks of the rifle sounded off so quickly that Lucy wondered how the gun was keeping up with him. After the seventh shot Heath turned his head and looked at Lucy, their eyes locking in a lightning-hot stare.

“Holy Jesus,” Lucy heard someone whisper, and with an effort she tore her eyes away to look at the log. All the cans had been knocked off. There was dead silence in the meadow.

“A tie,” Lucy said, so unnerved by the incredible demonstration that her voice wavered.

Heath’s eyes hadn’t moved from her face. “Does that mean we both get a kiss?” he asked interestedly, and Lucy wondered where he got his nerve from.

“It means neither of you do,” she replied, wishing that she could give him a piece of her mind for putting her and Daniel through this.

“It means the contest isn’t over,” Daniel snapped. “We’ll take it back to 225. First one who misses loses.”

In the next few seconds there was a great deal of scurrying. The battered cans were set up once again; the Spencer was loaded. Shot after shot rang through the meadow as Daniel hit all of the cans. His brown eyes were alight with cold satisfaction.

Then it was Heath’s turn, and he shot all the cans cleanly off the log with alarming dispatch. Oh, he was good. They all knew it, and no one more than he. He wore a slight smile on his face as the match continued, and his casual attitude made it clear that this was all ridiculously easy for him.

Daniel, on the other hand, was irritated nearly beyond endurance. He looked more and more strained as each round was completed. Lucy watched in silent agony as Daniel’s face became red and perspiring. She had never seem him look so angry, and silently she cursed Heath and his predatory ways. To think that she had felt sorry for him before! He was taunting them all with his skill, and he couldn’t help but know that instead of admiring him they were coming to dislike him intensely, but he continued to draw the game out.

Lucy glared at Heath’s broad back and then looked at Daniel, who was fighting against a threat to his masculine pride. Her gaze softened with concern, for she knew that Daniel had never been bested at a shooting match by anyone, and it would hurt him terribly to lose.

And somehow, they all knew he was going to lose.

She felt Heath’s eyes on her. She looked over at him, unable to keep the anxiety and outrage out of her gaze. Her lips trembled with the words that she wanted to speak but had to keep inside. Suddenly the hint of savage enjoyment left Heath’s face, and he raked a hand through the ruffled thickness of his hair. When he took the rifle this time, his hands were more deliberate on the weapon and his movements were slower. He threw a quick glance at Lucy and then swerved his eyes to the target. One, two, three . . . four, five . . . six. There was a slight hesitation before he fired the last shot.

The seventh can was left standing.

Sally squealed and jumped down from the boulder to run towards Daniel. Loud enthusiasm erupted from the gathering as they all crowded around Daniel, thumping him on the back and congratulating him vigorously. Lucy remained sitting, staring at Heath as he gave her fiancé a cocky salute. Daniel nodded coolly and then turned back to his friends, grinning as they overwhelmed him with cheers.

Heath walked over to Lucy, his brown, clean-shaven face as inscrutable as that of a statue. With the absence of a smile, the scar on his temple was more noticeable than usual. She wanted to trace that healed-over line and lay her palm against his cheek in comfort—until she suddenly realized what he had done. Though none of them knew it, he had allowed Daniel to win! Missing that last shot had been a gesture of contempt for them, for the game that had meant so much to them and so little to him. She wondered if he held her in contempt as well.