Read Online The Bride's Prerogative by Susan Page Davis - Free Book Online Page B

the streams around Fergus looked as though they meant business, but by the end of July, most would be bone dry.
    Gert led her up the ravine to a secluded spot between the hills, where she halted and jumped to the ground.
    “Are we on Ethan Chapman’s land?” Libby asked as she dismounted. She looked about for a place to tether her horse.
    “Bert Thalen’s ranch, actually, but he won’t mind.” Gert didn’t seem to notice what she’d said about the dead man, or if she did, she hadn’t considered it disrespectful. Libby liked Gert, but sometimes she seemed a little indelicate.
    Gert looked at her. “Did you know that Ethan heard back from Bert’s son?”
    “No, what did he say?” Libby asked.
    “He wants Ethan to sell off his livestock and keep an eye on the place until he decides what to do with it.”
    “Oh my.”
    “Griff Bane said he’ll buy Bert’s horse. Ethan thinks Micah Landry might buy the beef cattle.” Gert added, “Don’t worry about Hoss. He’ll ground tie.”
    “Even when we start shooting?”
    “Yes, he’s too dumb to run away.”
    Libby let the reins fall and looked about. “It’s beautiful out here. I should get away from town more.”
    “You can ride Hoss or Crinkles anytime,” Gert offered.
    “Thank you. Isaac used to keep a team and wagon, but I sold them after he died. Too expensive. I just hire freighters to haul stuff for me.”
    “It’s an extravagance for us,” Gert admitted. “Hiram and I like to be able to ramble around when the fancy strikes us, so we put up with these nags.”
    Libby pulled some small pieces of bright flannel from her reticule. “You asked for some scraps of cloth.”
    Gert’s eyes lit. “Thanks. Those are perfect.” She nodded toward a knoll a short distance away. “I’ll set up the targets over there, and we can shoot from beside the stream.”
    Libby watched her easy gait as she went to prepare the mark. Gert walked like a boy, though she must be twenty-four or more. Libby could remember when she’d come all the way from Maine to help Hiram’s wife, Violet, with her new baby. Or such was Gert’s intention when she set out on the long journey. As soon as Violet Dooley had learned a baby was on the way, she’d sent a gushing letter, begging Hiram’s little sister to come stay with them and help her keep house when the child arrived. Gert had gladly answered the summons.
    She was sixteen when she arrived, of that much Libby was certain. Tall, raw-boned, and gangly as a colt. No one considered her a beauty. Gert had plain, honest features and a temperament to match. She probably could have married in those first few years here in Fergus. But she’d arrived to find her brother in mourning, with Violet and their sweet baby buried out near the schoolhouse. Gert had made it plain to all that she’d come to help her brother. Any young men who’d fluttered about the gunsmith’s house soon learned she didn’t intend to cook and clean house for anyone but Hiram. And so, eight years later, she still lived in her brother’s home.
    As she piled up a few stones and anchored a bright slip of cloth on top for them to aim at, Gert frowned in concentration. She wasn’t homely, Libby told herself again. Some might say so if they saw her gritting her teeth like that, with worry lines creasing her brow. But Gert had potential. Libby wished she could coax her into the emporium when a new shipment of fancy goods came in from St. Louis. But it was the bar girls who hurried over in search of ways to pretty themselves up, not plain, honest Gertrude.
    Gert finished constructing three targets at varied distances and walked back toward her. Libby realized she didn’t have her gun out of the bag yet. She took her handbag down from the saddle and walked toward the stream. Gert went to Crinkles and drew Hiram’s rifle from the scabbard.
    “Ready?” She walked over to Libby’s side with the Sharps resting on her shoulder.
    “I haven’t loaded yet,”