McKettrick's Choice - Linda Lael Miller [70]
Holt drew up alongside the wagon and spoke to John.
“See that little ravine down there?” he said, pointing at a large gash in the earth, gouged out by some ancient upheaval.
The smell of smoke mingled with the dust, and Lorelei swore she could feel the heat of that fire, even though she couldn’t see the flames.
“I see it,” John confirmed.
“I want you to hole up in there while Rafe, the Cap’n and I do some scouting up ahead,” Holt said. His gaze shifted to Lorelei. “I don’t suppose you know piss-all about guns.”
“I can learn,” Lorelei said, swelling with indignation. It was true that she’d never handled a firearm, but he didn’t have to be rude about it.
Holt shook his head and turned his attention back to John. “Keep the women close to the wagon,” he went on. “Give them each a rifle and show them how to load it. And make sure they don’t shoot each other.”
Lorelei flushed with a mixture of stark fear and righteous offense.
Holt chuckled grimly, resettled his hat and rode off to join Rafe and the Captain.
John sent the team high-stepping down a steep incline, bumping toward the ravine, while Holt, Rafe and the Captain rode hard for the fire. The cowboys stayed back, their rifles drawn and resting across the pommels of their saddles, forming a broad circle around the wagon.
When they’d reached the bottom of that great hole in the ground, John jumped down from the wagon and lowered the tailgate. Tillie and the dog wedged themselves back into a corner.
Mr. Cavanagh, meanwhile, dragged a long wooden crate within reach, raised the lid and lifted out one rifle, then another. Lorelei dismounted after Melina, and rubbed her sweating palms down the legs of her trousers just before John thrust a rifle into them.
The thing was heavy, and Lorelei had to stiffen her knees to keep from stumbling.
“Tillie, get over here,” John snapped. “You’ve got to show these ladies how to handle a gun!”
“I thought you were going to—” Lorelei began.
“No time,” John said, rounding the wagon to climb into the box and reclaim his own rifle from under the seat. Most likely, it was already loaded. “Tillie-girl, you stop that mopin’ and do as you’re told!”
With that, Mr. Cavanagh made his way up the ravine, rifle in hand.
Tillie blinked, crawled to the tailgate, and got down.
“You do it like this here,” she told Lorelei, taking a gun from the crate and expertly popping it open to shove in a shell with one motion of her thumb.
Melina apparently didn’t need instruction; she helped herself to a rifle of her own, loaded it and sighted in on a pile of rocks on the other side of the ravine. Without a moment’s hesitation, she pulled the trigger.
The shot boomed like thunder, the sound bouncing off the walls of the ravine. Sorrowful howled piteously, and John and a couple of the cowboys rushed to peer down at the three women.
Melina smiled and lowered the rifle. “Just making sure the bullets are good,” she called up to them.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Lorelei said.
“You will if there’s a Comanche coming at you,” Melina replied.
“Here,” Tillie urged, and handed Lorelei the rifle she’d just loaded. “You try it.”
Lorelei recoiled instinctively, then thought about Comanches and took a firm hold.
“There’s another shot coming!” Melina called to the men above. “Everybody stay back!” She should have been afraid, by rights, but her eyes glittered with excitement.
Lorelei’s arms shook as she raised the gun, the way she’d seen Melina do, and fired at random. Sorrowful yowled and shinnied under the wagon. The rifle kicked, almost knocking Lorelei to the ground, and she knew she’d have a bruise where the stock struck her shoulder.
“You took off a hunk of the buckboard,” Tillie said, impressed.
“You’re not supposed to just haul off and shoot,” Melina put in, less genially. “We’re lucky that bullet didn’t ricochet off the wall of the ravine and kill one of us.”
“You shot at the rocks,” Lorelei pointed out defensively. She was dizzy with