Page 39 of A Treacherous Treasure

“Would you teach me to shoot those, so as not to have part with one of your guns?” They belonged to her husband, but would that matter to him?

“If you wish. That should be just as effective.”

She couldn’t imagine Arthur ever teaching her to shoot his guns. He never allowed her to touch them. Thomas Westbrook was so different from her husband. And how sad that she couldn’t imagine her husband being as concerned for her in this situation as Mr. Westbrook was.

Rebecca went up to her husband’s bedroom to look for his guns, not wishing to send a servant on such an errand. She took the hunting rifle he’d had with him when he was shot, steeling herself against the strange sensation that crept along her spine. This was a practical decision, to take the gun. She needed it.

She also found one of his pistols and carried the both of them, along with the ammunition, down to where Thomas was waiting for her.

Rebecca called to a servant. “Please tell Adler that I will be shooting at the back of the house across the garden.”

The servant’s eyes went wide, but she scurried away to do as she was told.

Thomas Westbrook took the rifle from her and they walked out to the garden.

The first thing he did was check both guns to see if they were loaded.

“Did your husband always keep his guns loaded?” Thomas frowned.

“I don’t know.”

“Generally, I would say it’s not safe to keep one’s guns loaded in the house. But since there are no children in the home, and since this is a special circumstance, it’s probably all right if you want to keep the pistol loaded and near you, perhaps in a drawer next to your bed, but not on a table where it might fall off.”

Rebecca nodded.

“Many men have shot themselves unintentionally.” His gaze was intense as he looked her in the eye.

“I will be careful.”

He proceeded to show her how to unload and load the dueling pistol. “You only get one shot before you have to reload, so if someone is attacking you, make sure you shoot to kill.”

Rebecca’s stomach churned. Could she shoot someone? Perhaps, if they were truly trying to kill her, she could shoot them in self-defense. She hoped she could do it, for the sake of the people who loved her, and for her own sake, to save herself from an evil person. After all, she wouldn’t want to disappoint Thomas Westbrook after he took time out to show her how to use a gun.

“An important rule is to never point the muzzle of a gun at anyone unless you’re willing to shoot.”

Rebecca nodded.

Next, he showed her how to look and see that the gun was loaded, then how to stand with her feet apart, knees slightly bent, and how to hold the gun with both hands just before firing.

Their hands touched repeatedly as he gently showed her where to place her fingers.

Why did his touch, so innocent, send her heart racing and make her feel as if she could barely breathe? She mustn’t let it show, but his fingers brushing hers . . . She must be depraved to feel so much at so little provocation.

“Now, aim for that tree trunk at the edge of the garden. Get ready for the gun to kick back at you. Don’t let it hit you in the face or the chest.”

She concentrated on holding the gun correctly, stiffening her arms, locking her wrists and elbows in place to keep the gun from recoiling into her face or body, aiming as she squeezed the trigger.

The gun blasted so loud, her ears seemed to fill with the sound, as the gun kicked back so fast that she had no time to react. But she’d locked her elbows so that the gun did not come all the way back.

“Did I hit the tree?”

“You may have, but I didn’t see any bark flying. We’ll check it later. Try again.”

He let her load the gun this time, patiently giving her instructions. His voice was gentle, but deep and masculine. Its warm timbre made her heart flutter and shallowed her breathing.

“Now, remember to keep a firm hold, knowing that the gun will kick backward. You might also want to aim a bit high, because the bullet drops a bit the farther it travels.”

Rebecca readied her stance, paying a bit more attention this time to aiming the gun. She squeezed off her shot and this time saw the bark fly from the tree.