A Mail-Order Hope (Miners to Millionaires Book 3) Page 6

  “The afternoon?” Lead pooled in Asher’s belly. He couldn’t wait around all these people until afternoon. His eyes glanced around at the crowd again.

  Sawyer’s gaze followed Asher’s. “Yes. I’m sorry you didn’t know. You can always come back if you don’t want to stay. But there’ll be a lot of other good competitions to watch. You might even get a piece or two of pie, if you’re standing in the right place at the right time. I don’t know about the rest of the women, but my wife makes one hell of a cherry pie.”

  As if completely oblivious to the inner turmoil going on inside Asher, another person caught Sawyer’s attention, and he left to go deal with a hiccup. Now Asher was left in the middle of the town square, alone, with the volume growing louder as more and more people joined the merriment.

  Good heavens, he hadn’t been around this many people in so long, he might be sick.

  He stumbled a step or two in retreat. It didn’t matter if he had to ride all the way home, enjoy thirty minutes of peace and quiet on the mountain, then come back just in time for the event. It beat hanging around here with all these people.

  Intending to do just that, he turned toward the livery and stopped in his tracks.

  Belle stood a few feet behind him with a wide smile on her face. Her eyes sparkled a mischievous green, and he could only guess what she was thinking. When she stepped toward him, the muscles in his neck and shoulders relaxed a degree.

  “You’re here early,” he said in place of a greeting.

  A small smile curved her lips. “So are you. I’d guessed you’d show up five minutes before the event started and leave right after. I must say, I’m surprised.”

  His body heated, but Asher refused to give in to the embarrassment. “That’s exactly what I’d planned.”

  Her brow quirked. “What changed?”

  “The schedule, apparently.”

  “Huh?”

  “The shooting event traditionally takes place in the morning, but this year, they moved it to the afternoon.”

  “I see.” She barely managed to stifle her chuckle.

  His eyes narrowed. “I don’t find this funny.”

  She bit her lip. “No, I don’t suppose you do. Poor Asher.”

  He wanted to both growl at her, then kiss her.

  “So what will you do now?”

  That was the question of the hour. He had planned to leave and not return until absolutely necessary, but now that Belle had arrived, he felt himself hesitating. Was it really so wrong to want to be around her? Being with her couldn’t last, and he’d already accepted that. Would it really hurt anything, or anyone, if he stayed just a little longer?

  “Did you make a pie for the contest?”

  “Will you stay if I say yes?” she asked teasingly.

  “If it’s the truth, perhaps.”

  “Then, in that case, yes. I did bake a pie.”

  “If it tastes as good as the eggs you made the other morning, I would give my right leg to judge that contest.” The minute the words were out of his lips, he wanted to pull them back. Where had the charming, flirtatious comment come from anyway? He almost felt like he was having an out-of-body experience, where he watched himself say such ridiculous things.

  “I think we could arrange that. Minus”—she pointed to his leg—“the removal of your limb. Come on. I have an ‘in’ for the contest.”

  He followed her, thinking of a million excuses to get out of judging the contest, but he didn’t vocalize any of them. She seemed so happy about the idea, he couldn’t bear to crush it.

  “Who do you know?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Who is your ‘in’ for the judging?”

  “Oh. It’s Clara.”

  He swallowed hard as memories of when he’d rescued Clara a few months back floated through his mind.

  Belle didn’t seem to notice his reaction as she continued, “I bet she’d let you judge just because you helped save her. She’s loyal like that, and she owes you.”

  “She doesn’t owe me anything.” He halted abruptly, regretting the harsh way he’d spoken. In a much gentler tone, he added, “I don’t help others to get things from them.” Belle had stopped when he did, and at his final words, her expression softened. She reached out to touch his arm. “Of course not. Forgive me, I say silly things at times.”

  She squeezed his arm, before continuing through the crowd. A few people waved to her, but she didn’t stop until she’d found the woman she’d been searching for.

  “Clara! Look who I found.”

  The two women looked at him with huge grins, as if him being there had made their whole day.

  He shuffled his feet before forcing himself to still. “It’s nice to see you again Mrs. Morrison.” He tipped his hat.

  Clara slipped her hand into his and squeezed. “I’m very happy to see you here. Have you come to compete in one of the games?” She genuinely looked interested.

  Belle nudged him with her elbow. “He’s come to see if you need any more judges for the pie baking contest.”

  “Oh, has he?” Clara eyed him as though she knew exactly who’s idea it had been for him to judge. “As a matter of fact, I do have one more slot open. We’ll have three judges in case there’s a tie. Sawyer is one, of course. Mr. Grant, the owner of the bank, is the second, and you’ll make three. That is, if you’d like to do it. I wouldn’t force it upon you like Belle would.”

  “Hey,” Belle said, drawing out the word, then laughing. “All right.” She sighed dramatically, teasing a smile from his lips. “If you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  He wasn’t sure who was more shocked by his acceptance, him or Belle.

  “You sure?” She looked a tad concerned. Almost guilty.

  It was adorable. “I’m sure. I told you before I’m terrible at baking. Gorging on pies doesn’t seem like such a hardship.”

  Her smile practically glowed. “I won’t tell you which is mine then.” She held a finger to her mouth. “I wouldn’t want to be accused of cheating when mine is declared the best pie ever created.”

  Clara snorted. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Queen of Pie Baking.”

  Belle laughed and rolled her eyes as she took hold of Asher’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go see what else is happening.”

  Asher didn’t fight her tugging, but instead, waved back at Clara when she shouted what time he needed to return.

  He’d dreaded this exact thing—going around, speaking to people. But as the hours ticked by, he felt himself relax more than he had in years. No one seemed to mind his presence. They didn’t run away from him screaming or try to shoot him. It was odd and nice and relaxing all at once. Later, he’d even had a good time judging pies with the other two men.

  “I thought you were going to let me win.” Belle poked his midsection after the contest. “I thought I was going to win by a landslide.”

  Asher rubbed his overly-full, but grateful, stomach. “You didn’t even tell me which was yours.”

  “The lemon custard with the cute lemon cutouts on top.”

  “That was yours?” He eyed her again. “It was incredible.”

  She pursed her lips playfully. “Apparently not incredible enough to win.”

  He laughed. “Maybe you’ll win the shooting contest.”

  “Maybe,” she countered.

  The frustration of trying to draw him out had vanished from her features. She was just here, enjoying her time with him. The knowledge warmed him inside. If only he could—

  No. He couldn’t think about the things he wished he could do in the future for her. There was no future with her. Today had been dangerous for him. Every moment he’d spent with her had slowly eroded his desire to keep away from others, to do what was best for all.

  A notch formed in her brow as she watched him. “What is it?”

  His face went blank. He couldn’t afford to give anything away with her. All he needed was for her to
change her mind and continue her quest to make him socialize more. “Nothing.”

  “I can tell you’re lying. You were happy a moment ago. What changed?”

  The fact she could gauge his moods so quickly unnerved him, yet thrilled him too. It shouldn’t. “I’m fine, Belle.”

  He even offered her a smile, but the suspicious light remained in her eyes.

  She opened her mouth to say something more, but before she could, the shooting participants were asked to take their positions.

  She looked over toward the field where the competition would take place. “That’s us.”

  “Shall we?”

  Belle nodded, but the look she gave Asher clearly let him know she wouldn’t forget the subject they were on just a moment ago.

  Heaven help him.

  They walked over to the field and she waved at people they hadn’t spoken to that day. He’d give her one thing, she’d certainly made a lot of friends since she’d moved to Promised Creek. It made him wonder, if she had so many friends, why was she bothering with him so much? She’d said she was doing it to pay him back for the assistance he’d given Clara, but was that really all?

  She stepped ahead of him and he looked at the cascade of light brown hair, softly bouncing with her gait. She was so beautiful, so graceful. When had he ever noticed a woman’s walk? So much more than her beauty, he admired her spirit, her determination, and her loyalty.

  He’d been difficult, but she’d never given up, and he knew that, had he not opened his door that day, she would still be visiting him in the field outside his cabin.

  The thought brought a small smile to his face. She probably would’ve visited him the rest of their lives. He was coming to know that she was just that stubborn.

  His eyes shifted to the crowd gathered along a row of targets, and he whistled in surprise. There were a lot more entrants this year, which meant more competition. He almost rubbed his hands together in excitement over the challenge.

  Belle gathered her weapon where she’d stored it, and hefted the rifle over her shoulder. He stepped to her and held out his hand.

  “Here, let me carry that for you.”

  She smiled. “I appreciate it, but I’d like to hold it. It’s getting me used to the weight again.”

  “How long has it been since you’ve last shot?”

  She bit her lip. “Awhile.”

  “Are you sure—”

  “I told you,” she interrupted, “I’m perfectly capable.”

  He watched the way she handled the gun, noting that she was indeed comfortable with the weapon. “All right then.”

  She nodded. “Let’s go register.”

  The process took a little longer than he was used to, but they wrote down their names and took their numbers. They would be shooting with the second group, and they both eyed the competition while they waited for the official start.

  “Not many women entering,” she noted.

  He nodded. “But there aren’t many women in town anyway.”

  “True.”

  They didn’t have to wait long until Sawyer quieted them all down and stated the rules: one shot each round, and the top four from each group would proceed to the next round until there were only two participants.

  They watched the first group with enthusiasm, and Belle cheered for one of her friends. To Belle’s disappointment, her friend didn’t made it through the first round.

  “Darn,” she whispered.

  “At least you won’t have to compete against her in the finals.”

  “True.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. “I hope you and I are in the finals.”

  He laughed, enjoying her easy confidence. “That would be something people would talk about for a long time.”

  “All the better.”

  When the second group was called forward, Asher took a spot next to Belle and discreetly watched as she loaded her weapon, rather efficiently, he was proud to see.

  Before he could comment, Sawyer got their attention. “Shooters, ready?”

  Silence descended on the group.

  “Aim.”

  Asher took up his rifle, noting that Belle did the same, before he cleared his mind. He took a deep breath in and blocked out the world around him. As he released the pent up air, nothing existed but him and the target. The weapon was now an extension of him. They were one.

  One heartbeat passed, then two, as his gaze drew the target even closer. He felt the soft breeze on his cheek and made a slight adjustment for it.

  “Fire!”

  Asher exhaled and softly coaxed the trigger.

  Bullseye.

  The world sped up again as sounds filtered back to his attention. He didn’t jump or celebrate his shot as some of the others did, but simply looked at it reassuringly. He was proud of his abilities. They hadn’t come by luck or from the joy of it, they’d come out of necessity—of survival. He’d never take that lightly.

  “You got a bullseye?” Belle sounded shocked. “Was it luck?”

  He turned his attention to her and shook his head, chuckling when her mouth gaped. “What about you?” he asked as he looked to her target. “Well done.” He nodded his appreciation. She hadn’t gotten a perfect shot, but it was still in the center ring. As he looked at the other targets, he realized she would most definitely move on to the next round.

  “Thanks.” She smiled, but looked down at her weapon and mumbled, “But I can do better.”

  “What was that?” he teased.

  She blew a piece of hair away from her face and wrinkled her nose at him. “I can do better. Don’t let one perfect shot make you cocky.”

  He swallowed his smile and tipped his hat toward her. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Names were announced of those who would move on to the next round, and they were both included.

  “Come on.” She nodded over to a refreshment table. “Let’s get a drink while the others shoot.”

  He nodded and slung his gun over his shoulder.

  The lemonade they sipped was tart and a little too sweet for his taste, but he was grateful for the drink. It was still summer, and this time of day was warmer than was comfortable.

  “Have any plans for what you’ll spend the prize money on if you win?” Belle asked between sips.

  “I hadn’t given it much thought.” Truly, he hadn’t. “You?”

  Her eyes went a little distant as she thought, but she finally shook her head. “There’s not much that I need. I’ll probably save it in case I need it in the future.”

  He frowned. “Are you having money troubles? I thought the mine was producing.”

  She waved him away. “The mine is fine; we have more than enough to support us. It isn’t that. I just know that things can change, and it’s better to have something stored away for the hard times.”

  He wondered how she’d come to learn that lesson. How many hard times had she had? She’d said that her mother hadn’t had to work, but that didn’t mean they’d always had an easy life.

  He turned his attention to the shooters, looking over each one as they readied their weapons and took position. There weren’t any women in this group, only men, but as his gaze slid over the contestants, his eyes darted back to one, and a shock jolted his body.

  Ronan.

  He’d entered the contest? Not long ago, Ronan wouldn’t have been caught dead at a celebration like this. He’d been so focused on one thing, and one thing only...revenge. But as he watched his friend from long ago turn and wink at a pretty blonde, Asher’s mouth gaped.

  “What is it?” Belle asked.

  He rubbed at hand over his mouth, but couldn’t bring himself to look away from Ronan and the woman. “Is that Ronan’s wife?”

  “Hmm?” Belle looked around him toward the blonde. “Oh. Yeah, that’s Olivia. They got back from their honeymoon not too long ago. There was actually a little bit of an issue, but they cleared it up and now everything is great. Something must’ve happened in
Georgia.”

  His eyes whipped to her. “Why would you say that? What happened?” She stumbled a step away from him, obviously startled by the force of his question, and he inwardly shook himself. “I’m sorry, I was just surprised by what you said. Why do you think that?”

  She seemed to choose her words a little more carefully. “Olivia came back a few weeks ahead of Ronan. She said she needed time away from him, that she had to think, and that he’d done something she couldn’t condone.”

  Asher turned away from her, carefully placing his glass on the table. He was worried that, if he held it a moment longer, it might crush in his hand. “Did she say what?”

  “Not to me. Although, I think she might’ve told Clara or Sadie.” She shrugged. “I like Olivia, but we’re not as close as we are with some of the others.”

  He acknowledged her words, but didn’t say anything further. In truth, he couldn’t think of anything coherent to say. He could just imagine what had happened in Georgia, what had driven a wedge between Ronan and his wife.

  He was sure it had been the same thing that had driven a wedge between their own friendship all those years ago.

  Belle placed her hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right, Asher? Are you ill?”

  He needed to get himself under control. What Ronan did now was none of Asher’s business. They weren’t in each other’s lives, and Asher wasn’t responsible for him. Not any longer.

  He turned back toward her and tried a smile, but even he could tell it looked strained. He needed to block this. He needed to ignore Ronan and finish the competition. The second it was over though, he was out. He was done. And he didn’t intend on coming back again after the dance. Ever.

  Ronan’s group and then the next finished their turns to shoot, and Asher and Belle took their places in the first group of round two, where they both moved on again to the next round. There wasn’t any rejoicing over another bullseye, however.

  Belle had remained silent, looking between him and Ronan as if trying to figure out what had happened. She couldn’t even begin to guess.

  Eight entrants were left in the semi-final round, and the top two would shoot for the title.