Part 3 (1/2)

”Aye, that it is.” Will bowed his head. He'd loaned the rifle to Braddock mainly because he wasn't too sure where to store it himself. As well as borrowing it out to the colonel had landed the surly man in a much better mood, since he thought himself a rifleman, yet, regrettably, was myopic. ”Would you mind doing the lady and me the favor of fetching it then?”

The Private's wide smile waned, his eyes widened, then he stared at Erva. ”I'd be honored,” he whispered reverently.

”What's your name, Private?”

”Bradley O'Neal, sir. I'm in the Fifty-Third infantry.”

Will nodded, noting that the lad was not only enamored with Erva, but had his uniform in order as well as his hair tied neatly. Good boy, Will thought, and wondered about a recommendation for the Private. ”Thank you, Private O'Neal. Now, let's see how fast you are.”

O'Neal saluted first, which Will snapped back immediately, then the boy sprinted while the crowd cheered. His men hadn't had this high of moral since...Lord, Will wondered, his men might have never been this excited. Well, except for the time he'd given them three times the rum rations on the day after they'd conquered Long Island from the Continentals.

”Ye'd load the gun yerself?” Will barely heard McDougal ask Erva over the crowds' chanting.

Erva smacked the sergeant again. ”Of course.”

”Ye're familiar with a breach-loading rifle?” the sergeant asked.

Erva nodded confidently. ”Very.”

It hit Will as hard as if he'd been thrown from a horse. Why was the lady so familiar with guns? h.e.l.l, he had only fired the Ferguson rifle a few times himself.

He stared hard at the lovely lady, speculating. Spies abounded. He knew since he had several trying to infiltrate the Continentals' camp at that very moment. Lady Erva couldn't be a spy, could she? What had her letters of introductions said? Why couldn't he remember?

”So ye're goin' to shoot at least seven times in a minute?”

”I hope I can. I mean, I haven't practiced shooting this particular gun in a while, but I used to be able to.”

Will swallowed. How could she have become so skilled? Granted, he'd heard of a few ladies who target practiced with muskets, but they mainly used archery as the fas.h.i.+on of the day dictated.

”Then I'm sure my simple mind would explode from the event.” Sergeant McDougal teased with a grin.

Still, Will felt unsettled. He had no issues with the lady being a right good shot, as McDougal would say. It was how she had gotten the opportunity to become so that was bothersome.

”But ifn my brain doesn' split down the middle,” McDougal continued, ”then I'd probably start talking to ye after.”

”It's a deal then?” Erva smiled.

The Highlander spat in his palm and extended his hand to the lady. Erva did the same, making Will quietly laugh. They shook like two conspiratorial friends at long last reunited. At least Will hoped that the look between the two was amiable. If not, then he'd break the sergeant's nose.

Mercy, here he was suspicious the lady a spy, yet ready to a.s.sault his sergeant over her.

He didn't have time to sort through his thoughts, for Private O'Neal careened through the crowd, holding the rifle over his head, screaming, ”Got it! Got it!”

A red and winded Colonel Braddock was hot on his heels. ”I say, General, what in heaven's name is-” Braddock cleared the crowd just then and stared at Erva. He glanced at Will with a bow and sauntered close to whisper, ”The lad told me there was a lady shooting. You aren't really going to let her, are you?”

Will nodded at O'Neal. ”Will you hand the lady the rifle, please?”

The Private nearly skipped to Erva, then stammered a few noises while extending the arm to her.

”Thank you,” she said.

O'Neal might have choked a few times, bowed, and ran back into the crowd. Yes, Will liked the lad, for his own charm was similar in that he wondered one minute if he'd said too much, then the next he couldn't find one d.a.m.ned word to utter. She was bewitching him, and Will wasn't too sure if that was the purpose of her visit or if she was innocent of her enchantments.

Sergeant McDougal gave Erva a few cartridges and a powder horn.

”Anyone have a watch?” the lady asked as she examined the rifle.

Will extracted his from his waistcoat and showed it to her.

”You will time me. A minute, please.”

He loved how she ordered him about. Apparently the crowd of watching soldiers liked it too as they rumbled merrily. Except for Braddock who stood agape, staring at him then Erva.

”On my honor,” Will said, ”you will have one minute, my lady.”

She beamed at him, then did the boldest thing and winked. She winked at him. Wasn't he supposed to be the one doing that? Instead, he found himself tongue-tied and with probably too wide a grin aimed right at her.

”You'll tell me when to fire?”

Will nodded, for words escaped him. Once more. d.a.m.nation.

Sergeant McDougal walked back to Will as Braddock ambled into the crowd, looking like the apocalypse might take him instead of a woman about to shoot a rifle. With a swirl of his black-green plaid, McDougal planted his feet wide and stood beside Will. Erva, even with her dainty little limp, readied for the shooting. She gave him another suns.h.i.+ne smile, which made Will's heart hammer, forgetting any other thoughts about where she had gleaned how to shoot a rifle. Glancing at his watch as the second's hand scooted around, he lifted his arm. Dropping it, he shouted, ”Go!”

Erva moved quickly and efficiently, lowering the breach plug and loading a cartridge into the gun, when Sergeant McDougal interrupted his attention. ”She's the one, ye ken?”

Will glanced at his sergeant, then back at the watch. Erva got off a shot less than six seconds into the compet.i.tion. It hit the scarecrow, this time in the chest. The rifle's impact was nearly twice as damaging as the musket's, making a large hole where a heart might have been.

”Forgive my impertinence, General, but ye've got to marry this one.”

Will blinked and glanced again at his sergeant.

Another shot rang out. Eighteen seconds had pa.s.sed. This last shot was again in the chest, which was deteriorating fast.

”Dismiss yer mistresses, sir. Just focus on her.”

Will clenched his jaw at the mention of mistresses. Erva fired, this time less than twenty-four seconds in.

Again without censor, his mouth moved of its own accord. ”The lady would never have me.”

He should have said something about mistresses, should have defended himself, but he knew he couldn't. Instead he'd said that? The most d.a.m.ning and vulnerable statement he'd been thinking? Lord, he was a bona fide mess.

Bang! This one only five seconds later.

”Begging yer pardon, sir, but there's where ye're wrong. The lady is quite fond of ye.”

”She's leaving in less than a week.”