Lineage(62)

“Can you put a light on it?”

Stub’s smile seemed to stretch from one end of the shop to the other.



After Stub fitted the Mossberg with a small flashlight below the barrel and told him the finer points of having a white light on a gun, Lance took his new purchase out the rear of the store and into an enclosed shooting range, which was eerily empty. Stub pressed upon him the importance of safety more than once as he showed Lance how to load and operate the shotgun. After getting the go-ahead from his new mentor, he took several shots at a man-shaped target downrange. Stub had been right. The gun handled beautifully, and although his shoulder began to throb with its recoil, within half an hour he felt comfortable loading and unloading the fat red shells Stub had provided.

“Now just remember, always assume it’s loaded. There’s been more than one man that lost his foot or head because he didn’t check the chamber,” Stub said as Lance followed his hulking mass back into the lonely shop. The storeowner reached behind the glass case and brought out a new zippered gun case. “On the house,” he said, opening the padded interior to accept the shotgun.

“I don’t mind paying,” Lance said as he placed the gun within the folds of the dark material.

“I know you don’t. A man as talented at writing as you are shouldn’t be in want for money.” Lance looked up from the zippered case in surprise. “I’ve read all your books,” Stub continued. “Recognized you when you walked in the door.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Lance asked.

“I figured you got that enough, didn’t need another slobbering fan drooling after you, wantin’ an autograph.”

Lance laughed and shook his head. The big man had grown on him during the past hour they’d spent together going over the finer points of gun handling and ownership, and he now looked at him in a new light. “Thank you. I appreciate all your help, you’ve been great.” Stub waved his hands in a gesture to repel the gratitude as if he were allergic to it.

“I do have one question for you, though,” Stub said, his jolly face growing serious as he leaned over the counter toward Lance. “Who would want to hurt you?”

Lance thought of the lineup of people that were not pleased with him at the moment. Ellen sprung to mind for a second and then disappeared. His publishing house was next in line, but the prospect of someone from New York infiltrating his personal life and resorting to scare tactics seemed laughable in the morning light of the gun store. That left John. The caretaker’s serene face and even-keeled words replayed in his mind before fading away.

“I really don’t know,” Lance said at last. He watched Stub’s face take on a thoughtful expression before the big man spoke again.

“I’m assuming you came here to write—wouldn’t be anything else keeping you in a little town like this?”

Mary’s face flashed through his mind but he shoved it away, feeling like an embarrassed teenager. “You’re very intuitive, has anyone ever told you that?” Lance asked.

“If I knew what that word meant, I’d most likely be flattered, I think,” Stub said, his face devoid of emotion. The look held for a few seconds, and Lance was about to reassure the other man when the same thunderous laughter erupted. Stub nearly bent over with mirth while Lance joined in. Their laughter quieted after a moment and Stub leaned again on the glass case, which squeaked its protest under the considerable pressure.

“I used to be a bounty hunter, so yes, I am slightly intuitive. You think it’s maybe someone lookin’ for something of value to steal, knowing who you are?” Stub said, gesturing to Lance.

“Nothing’s missing, so I don’t think robbery is what’s on their minds. Besides, they seem to want to be seen. They’re not creeping around the house being quiet, they’re in my room, watching me and waiting for me to wake up.”

Stub stood away from the counter, and Lance could have sworn he saw the giant shiver. “Gives me the creeps. You keep that shotgun bedside, got me? Someone’s there in your room again, you shoot and figure things out later. If it was me, I might be inclined to leave town, but I’m guessing you have a good reason to be here, and personally, I can’t wait to read about it.”

Lance nodded. “I’ll finish what I’m working on. I didn’t come this far to let someone scare me out of what I came here for.” Lance realized his surroundings had faded as he heard his own words of conviction. The fact that his writing had come back was all that mattered now. When Stub spoke again, it coaxed him back from the outer wings of his thoughts.