Marry Me By Sundown

“What about the money you said he hid? Is it worth the effort to search for it?”

“He had around thirteen hundred left after our first joint-venture load paid off. It was eighteen hundred, but he insisted on giving me a quarter of that for his share of the supplies and the use of my smelter. It was too much, but I couldn’t talk him out of it. I think his pride got in the way.”

She was incredulous that her father’s 30 percent share amounted to so much money. “That thirteen hundred will at least let my brothers stave off the banker for a few months, if I can find it. But what I don’t understand is why my father didn’t send that money to my brothers right away. Or write them when he went to town again.”

Morgan looked like he might be frowning, but she couldn’t be sure because of his mustache. “Because he didn’t go back to Butte after he filed his claim. He got accosted the day he filed it. I found him roughed up in an alley struggling to his feet and got him out of town fast. He was bruised up pretty bad, but otherwise okay. He didn’t know who did it, but before the men attacked him they asked him where his mine was located and he refused to tell them. I don’t doubt it was a couple of Sullivan’s men.”

“But how did they even know about it?”

“Your father stopped in a saloon to wait for me to finish my business and apparently bragged that he had a silver mine near my claim. I’d warned him not to mention the mine to anyone, but he was so happy he got himself drunk and spilled the beans. So that’s why he didn’t go back to town until a month later when I took him after the accident. He was guarding the place while Texas and I went to Butte. I suspected the claim jumpers might have killed him when I found him, but there were no fresh tracks outside the mine and there was blood on the support beam next to where he fell.”

“What was he doing in the mine while you weren’t here?” she asked.

“He still tried to dig through the tunnel a couple hours a day off and on. I told him he didn’t have to, but he was stubborn, wanted to contribute. Unfortunately, he never made much progress.”

“But you and Texas went to town after my father was roughed up. You could have mailed a letter for him.”

“Yeah, I could have, but he never asked me to. Maybe he was waiting until he had enough to pay off the loan in full.”

“I don’t suppose you continued to mine on his claim after the accident?”

“No, I went back to working my own mine.”

She sighed. “About this shooting lesson . . . ?”

“ ’Bout time,” he said, and stepped behind her again.

She gasped softly the moment his arms came around her, but she knew he only did it to position her hands on the rifle and lift her arms to the appropriate height. “The butt of the rifle needs to be pressed against your shoulder or the recoil could knock you on your as—uh, backside and hurt like hell, so don’t fire unless the butt is firmly seated like this. Now, let’s see if you can hit something before the ammunition crate is empty. Try one of those cowbells on the fence.”

She would have huffed at his sarcasm if his chest wasn’t still pressed to her back, causing a flurry of agitation inside her.

“Did I need to mention you have to pull the trigger?”

More sarcasm, but he stepped back this time, letting her breathe normally again so she could point out, “Wild animals that can hurt me aren’t as small as that bell. At least give me a target the size of a small animal.”

“All right, follow me.”

He picked up the crate and moved to open the gate, continuing another twenty feet before putting the crate down. She followed and even closed the gate for him—and noticed that the rifle was already starting to feel a little heavy. Was he really going to make her carry it as she searched for the money?

Before she brought that up, she looked at the gun on his hip. She was surprised he wore it even when he was mining. “Wouldn’t a pistol be easier for me to handle?”

“Not if you want to hit what you’re aiming at,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her around so he could help her position the rifle again. “The rifle you hold high so you can look down its barrel at your target. I have an extra Colt, but you shoot from your waist with that type of gun and hitting your target requires a lot more practice.”

He aimed the rifle for her, placed her left hand under the barrel to support it. Tipping her head and looking down the long length, she saw it was pointing at his trespassing sign. She was about to pull the trigger when she felt his breath against her ear. A delicious shiver ran down her spine, and she nearly dropped the weapon. She lowered it before it slipped out of her hands. She turned slowly as he stepped back, and only then realized that he’d merely been leaning close to see if her aim was accurate.

“Have you changed your mind about learning to shoot?” he asked.

“No, I—” Good grief, where had her bloody thoughts gone! “You just described how you shoot a Colt, but I’m a woman. Wouldn’t it be just as effective if I raised the pistol to the same height as the rifle and looked down the length of my arm?”

He stared at her a moment before chuckling. “You could be right. Wait here while I fetch it.”

What was it about Morgan Callahan that enabled him to make her nervous and breathlessly stirred up at the same time? She set the rifle down and fanned her cheeks with both hands until she saw him heading back to her. Still shirtless. Still flaunting a physique that had to be the pinnacle of masculine beauty and temptation. Did he know what a fine figure of a man he was? Maybe he did and that’s why he hid an ugly face under that horribly shaggy beard, so it wouldn’t detract from his magnificent body—and she still wasn’t thinking clearly!

“I don’t have an extra gun belt for this,” he said as he reached her, “so you’ll have to figure out how you’re going to carry it.”

“Couldn’t I borrow yours?”

“No.”

The weapon was nearly a foot in length, making it too long to fit in her purse or the pocket of her skirt, but she supposed she could tie it to her waist with a long ribbon. She would just have to make sure Morgan didn’t see her carrying the gun that way. She caused him enough amusement as it was. But when he put the weapon in her hand, she realized that it was so light compared to the rifle, she could probably just carry it in her hand.

“All of this is to protect me from animals that will probably run away from me before I run away from them, right?” she asked.

“You never know,” he said as he showed her how to load the Colt by demonstrating with his own. “Encounters with people in these hills are rare, but in addition to claim jumpers, I’ve heard of outlaws out this way and seen the marshals and bounty hunters searching for them. There are also other prospectors traveling through these hills. The greatest danger to you will come from wild animals, but you still need to be able to protect yourself from any strangers you come across.”

She was more concerned about wild animals. “What about bears? Do they come up here?”

“Ran across one fishing at the river below here last year. Made a coat out of him. But haven’t seen any this far up. Now, let’s see if your idea has merit. Shoot the sign.”

She lifted the gun, looked down the length of her arm, and pulled the trigger. The weapon seemed to jump in her hand, pointing upward as if it had a mind of its own. Texas yelled from the cliff, “I’m trying to sleep up here!” And Morgan started laughing.

But then he was standing behind her again, his chest pressed to her back, and he rasped by her ear, “You forgot the support.” He raised her left hand and placed it under her forearm. “Grip firmly the way you did with the rifle barrel to hold your arm steady. Try now.”

His breath crossed her cheek this time. He was doing it again, trying to see for himself if her aim was accurate. Did he really think she could concentrate when it felt like she was utterly surrounded by him and all she could think about was kissing him?