Calico Bride by Jillian Hart

Author:Jillian Hart
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Steeple Hill
Published: 2011-03-31T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

"€œMy pa is looking to hire another gun."€ In dream, Olly dropped a pinecone on the top of the stump.

They were target practicing again in the stuffy heat of a muggy August evening, his only free time off from fieldwork and chores around the farm. Burke set the gun on its butt. He pulled the last bullet from the leather pouch tied to his belt. Tonight he needed to melt more lead.

"€œIt'€™s a real job. You interested?"€ Olly swung his sleek Winchester by the barrel as he strode through the grass, crushing daisies beneath his boots.

"€œInterested? Sure."€ Burke sited carefully. "€œBut I can'€™t walk away from my fieldwork just for one day'€™s work. The farmer would tan my hide and there'€™s no one to stop him from hitting me. If he kicked me out, I'€™d have to go back to the orphanage."€

"€œIt'€™s not work for only one night, stupid."€ Olly spat a stream of tobacco and laughed with a mature confidence. He was grown up for his years. They might be the same age, but Olly was older somehow. Rough language slid easily off his tongue, and he knew a lot of the world. "€œThis is a legitimate job offer."€

"€œWith pay?"€ Burke squeezed the trigger, the flash bang of the long rifle knocked him back a foot but the pinecone shattered into a hundred pieces. Perfect hit.

"€œPay, room and board. Long term. It'€™s gun work. You would be providing security for my pa."€ Olly leaned his Winchester against the rough bark of a skinny pine and untied his pack. "€œYou would stay with us. Pa would pay you a dollar a day."€

"€œA whole dollar?"€ That was thirty dollars a month. Over three hundred a year. He would be rich. He put down his gun, raked a hand through his hair and tried to imagine having so much money.

He could buy a fine driving team and maybe a shiny buggy to go with it. Or he could buy his own land, maybe it wouldn'€™t be a big place, but he didn'€™t need much. A little shanty with a roof and a cookstove, maybe his own milk cow. His own horse and buggy, his own house. Maybe he could save up enough to go back to school. He had the notion of becoming a Range Rider one day, and he figured he needed a lot of schooling for that.

Excitement jumped in his belly, and he felt hungry for those dreams. Desperate to have them.

"€œI'€™ve never seen anyone shoot the way you can."€ Olly pulled out a silver flask. "€œThat'€™s talent. Real talent."€

"€œIt'€™s just shooting."€ He shrugged. It came easily to him, as simple as breathing. His talent didn'€™t seem like anything special, but if it could get him out of the farmer'€™s house and earn him money, he wasn'€™t going to argue. His back was still scabbed and tender from his last beating. "€œYou are serious? Thirty dollars a month?"€

"€œAs serious as a judge."€ Olly uncapped the flask and the strong scent of alcohol carried on the wind.

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