Bluebonnet Belle (21 page)

Swallowing, April studied her hands as she twisted the strings of her purse.

“Come now. April Truitt speechless?” He lifted his eyes, silently mouthing a grateful thank-you.

“I've been challenged to a duel Saturday morning. Henry's been seeing another woman in Burgess, and she's challenged me to a duel.”

Gray simply stared at her. At least she knew she had his complete attention for once.

When he continued to stare, she shifted in her seat uneasily. “Don't look at me that way. I know it's insane, but it's true, and I need your help to stop this.”

The legs of his chair hit the floor with a loud smack. “You cannot be serious.”

“I assure you, I am. Quite serious.” Deadly serious. She twisted her purse strings again. “The problem is, I don't know…exactly…what all this means.”

Gray exploded, jumping to his feet to pace.
“What have you done now?”

“I'm not sure. It certainly wasn't something I did intentionally. This…this Grace person accosted me while I was having lunch in Burgess two days ago. There I am, enjoying my treat, having passed out Lydia's pamphlets and delivered Pinkham's compound, and out of the blue, Grace marches over to me and challenges me to a duel.”

Gray stood in the middle of the room running a hand through his hair.

April averted her eyes, willing to give him time to adjust. Clearly, the ramifications hadn't completely sunk in yet.

“You can't fight a
duel—
I've never heard of two women fighting a duel!”

He was blustering, but blustering was good. Once a man blustered his system thoroughly clean, he thought more clearly.

“You have now,” she said.

Striding back and forth, he mumbled to himself. She could tell he was thinking. Thinking was good.

“Who is this woman in Burgess?”

“Her name is Grace Pruitt…I remember that because her name is so like mine. Grace Pruitt, April Truitt?”

He glared at her.

“Other than that, I don't remember much about that day, other than the fact that she said we were to meet in Miller's Glen at sunrise Saturday.”

He ceased pacing. “
This
Saturday?”

“This Saturday.”

“Does Lydia know about this?”

April sat up straighter. “Lydia had nothing to do with it. I was simply sitting there minding my own business—”

“When a woman comes over and challenges you to a duel.”

“No, a woman came over, announced her name was—
is—
Grace Pruitt, said she was Henry's intended and that she knew I was seeing Henry. Then she takes off her gloves and—”

“Slaps you across the left cheek.”

April nodded. “She claims to be Henry's fiancée.”

“What does Henry claim?”

“He denies everything—but I realize that I have been played for the biggest fool on earth. Henry Long is a cad.” The thought made her ill. To think she'd once trusted him, given her heart to him.

“This ‘Grace' demanded I stop seeing Henry immediately. When I told her she had no right to demand anything of me, she, well…hit me.”

“Hit you?”

“Yes, and I hit her back.” Her hand absently touched the slight discoloration on her left cheek. “And pulled her hair. Actually, the whole scene is muddled. I may have whacked her first, then Grace whacked me back, or vice versa…. Anyway, the confrontation quickly got out of hand and it was awful—just awful!”

Gray leaned forward slightly to examine the dark bruise on her arm. “This is ludicrous, you know that.”

“I know.” What was more ludicrous was the way goose bumps suddenly appeared when he bent close to her.

Why, she was no better than Grace!

Here she was, getting gooseflesh over a man engaged to another woman. It was disgraceful, and she should be ashamed of herself.

“I'm not sorry for what I did,” April said.

“Well, you should be.” Gray stood up.

“I'm afraid we got into a brawl. A constable was called, and we had to be separated.” She covered her face with both hands. “It was humiliating.”

He sank into his chair, jaw tight. “What about Riley?”

“He'll hear about it. There's no way he can't, but for now he isn't aware of the situation.”

 

Leaning back in his chair, Gray stared at the ceiling. He had warned Henry that he was playing a dangerous game. Now it seemed Henry Long had sold both women short.

If there was anything Gray had learned about women in his nearly thirty years it was that they never fit a pattern. Just when you were certain they would do something, they did something entirely different.

Witness the situation now before him with April.

Somehow “Grace” had discovered April and decided to take out the competition. It would be thoroughly amusing if it wasn't a matter of life and death. April had no idea what this meant. It was easy to see she was nervous and confused, and he knew how naive she was when it came to men. He'd pegged Henry as a gutless slime when he'd come in whining about his toe, and bragging about stringing two women along.

Gray sighed. Only April could get herself in such a fix. She was stubborn. He'd seen it all too often, and he knew that, with him or without him, she'd meet the challenge. She had no choice, but he did.

 

Bringing the legs of his chair back to the floor, Gray raised his brows. “All right, what do you want me to do?”

April's heart fluttered when she realized he was offering to help her without her having to beg. She felt something very close to warmth—and closer to love—seep through her.

“I'll have to do it. Henry says Grace is a little—well, you know—off. He said she will come after me regardless, so I'd best be prepared to defend myself.” April sprang out of the chair and began to pace. “What will I do? I can't shoot anyone—not ever! The Lord says ‘Thou shalt not kill.'”

“You'd more likely wound…” Gray paused. “No, with your luck you'd kill.”

“I don't know what's involved, how that sort of thing works.”

“Surely you
aren't
seriously thinking about going through with it?”

April blinked. “I don't have a choice.”

“Of course you do!”

“You mean back out? Just not show up? Let that woman shoot—maybe kill me?”

“Back out, don't show up, run…You're a woman, not a man.”

Stubbornness glinted in her eyes. “I can't do that.”

“Why not?”

“It would be a disgrace.”

“It would be
insane!
”

April winced at his tone. He was angry with her, as he should be. At the moment, she was angry at herself. “It isn't as if she challenged
you
. She challenged me.”

“You've lost your mind! You can't participate in a duel! You'll get yourself killed, Miss Truitt. Shot. Dead.” He ran both hands through his hair. “Even the compound won't bring you back.”

“Very funny.”

“I'm serious. You'd better listen to me.”

“Well, at the moment, I can't accept the challenge even if I wanted to. I don't know how to shoot a gun. That's why I'm here. I'd hoped you'd teach me.” She looked up, swallowed, then glanced away. “Before Saturday.”

Shock registered on his handsome features. “You don't know how to shoot a gun?”

She nodded miserably. “I don't. Don't have an inkling. Never had an occasion to use one, never wanted to use one.” She leaned closer. “I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't involve you in my problems, but you're the only one I can trust with this…rather weighty matter.”

“April—we're Christians, God's representatives. You can't engage in a duel with another woman!”

“I know. I don't want to, but I don't think Grace has the same convictions.” In fact, she was fairly certain Grace didn't have any convictions.

Circling the desk, Gray frowned. April could see he was sorting through his options: throw her out on her ear, refuse to help, go straight to Riley and inform him of his granddaughter's lunacy, shoot her, shoot himself or agree to help.

In the end, he did what any red-blooded man would do. He told her he had to think about it.

Getting to her feet, she prepared to leave. She could see there was no use appealing to his protective nature. He had none when it came to her. She could only hope his friendship with Riley would tip the scales in her favor.

“You will let me know as soon as your decision's made?” Wincing, she added, “Saturday's only a few days away.”

Walking to the window, he stared broodingly outside.

She took his silence to mean he was thinking.

For a man, it was a good sign.

“One more thing,” April said, her hand on the door. “I'm afraid if I don't show up at Miller's Glen, Grace will come to Dignity and hunt me down. If she can't get me, she'll go after Grandpa.” April flashed a weak smile. “She's mean.”

B
y noon the following day, Gray had searched her out. She was embarrassed he'd found her in yet another peculiar situation.

Her predicament this morning could be explained quite simply, were he to ask, which she was reasonably sure he wouldn't.

She'd been crawling around on the floor in the sanctuary, brushing stray daisy petals into a dustpan from around the base of Jefferson Teal's casket. The florist had been careless when he'd delivered the elaborate floral display, and she was left to tidy up.

As she'd maneuvered around the wooden coffin, she'd suddenly stood up, inadvertently snagging the sleeve of her dress on a corner of the coffin.

Yanking lightly at the fabric, she'd gasped when the sudden, jerking motion sent the lid slamming down over poor deceased Jefferson's face.

Sinking to her knees, she'd tried to loosen the sleeve caught inside the casket without tearing it. But the lid had her pinned to the floor like a wrestler.

She was behind the coffin, partially hidden by a large bouquet of yellow mums, when Gray appeared in the parlor doorway looking for her.

As his gaze searched the parlor, she'd stooped lower, hoping he wouldn't see her.

“April?”

Crouching lower still, she listened to the sound of her own breathing.

“Datha, she isn't in the parlor,” Gray said. “Do you know where she is?”

“She was there a moment ago,” Datha called from the kitchen. “Maybe she went outside. She'll be back. Just sit down and keep Jefferson company.”

April could hear Datha's good-natured laugh as she went out the back door.

Gray took a seat in the front row of chairs, crossing his hands in his lap as he waited, his eyes casually scanning the room.

The moments ticked by and April realized he wasn't going to leave. Not soon, anyway, and her leg was starting to cramp from the position she was in. She was going to have to speak up and be embarrassed that he'd caught her in yet another foolish circumstance.

Taking a deep breath, she gritted her teeth and said in a small voice, “Help me?”

Gray's eyes snapped to the casket.

When he didn't immediately get up, she repeated more loudly, “Don't just sit there, help me!”

The way she was pinned, it was impossible for her to move without toppling the casket—something she was sure he wouldn't want her to do.

When the silence stretched, she wondered if he had possibly mistook her voice for Jefferson's.

The idea made her giggle. With a little thought, she could have some fun with the stuffy doctor.

“Hey, Doc, open the lid!” she parroted in a gruff voice. Then, in her best grumpy “Jefferson” voice, she muttered, “It's hot in here—oh, wait! Maybe I'm not in here! Maybe I'm oh…no!!”

Suddenly aware of censuring eyes on her, she glanced up. Gray was leaning over the casket, peering at her.

“Hi.” She grinned, pointing at her sleeve. “Snagged it.”

He stared at her.

“Can you…open the lid?”

“I suppose I'm capable of that.”

When he didn't do so, she looked up again, irritated. “Today?”

Unlatching the lid, he lifted it. Hurriedly releasing her sleeve, she slipped around the casket, jerking off the scarf she'd worn to protect her hair. The freed locks tumbled down her back, reaching nearly to her waist. Quickly pinching color into her cheeks, she turned around. “What brings you here?” When he looked as if he was about to ask her how she'd gotten herself in that position, she rushed on. “I hope you've come to…”

Her voice trailed off as she heard Riley coming in the back way. Moving quickly to the parlor doors, she drew them shut. Turning, she whispered, “I hope this means you've decided to help me.”

“I've thought about it.”

“And?” She held her breath. If he refused to, she didn't know what she would do.

“If you insist on going through with this, I'll help you.”

She closed her eyes, light-headed with relief. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. A duel requires two identical weapons, so each opponent has an equal chance. Since Grace challenged you, you have your choice of weapons. In this case, guns. You'll need a second.”

“Second?” The term was new to her.

Gray drew a deep breath and stared at the ceiling for a long moment, as if he couldn't believe they were doing this.

“In a duel, it is customary for the two principals to have ‘seconds.' Someone they trust, who is willing to stand in for them in case something should happen. If the opponent doesn't show up, the second must step in.”

“As long as I show up, the second is in no danger?”

Gray sobered. “There will be no danger. Both guns will have blanks.”

“Blanks?”

“No bullets. Grace won't know, so she'll assume she missed. You will miss, too.”

“Won't she fire until she hits me?”

“I plan to step in and call it a draw.”

“Okay—that sounds good.”

“You'll need to look as if you know how to shoot to be convincing. We'll begin lessons immediately.”

“Excellent! When?”

“Before dawn tomorrow morning, behind the livery stable. Joe will let us practice on the back side of his land. We shouldn't draw attention there.”

“And you'll bring the gun?”

“I'll bring the gun. You just show up.”

She turned to reopen the parlor doors, then suddenly turned back. “Thank you. I don't know what I would have done if you had refused to help me….”

A flicker of annoyance hovered in his eyes. “Riley would never forgive me if I let something happen to you.”

Riley. Of course. That was the only reason Gray was willing to help her.

She reached for the handle on the door.

“April?”

“Yes?”

“What about Henry?”

She didn't turn around. “What
about
Henry?”

“Apparently this woman in Burgess believes she's engaged to him. What does he say about this sticky matter?”

“Henry and I are through.”

“I'm sorry—”

“Don't be. I was a blind fool. I see that clearly now.”

“Well, not everything in life is candy. Sometimes we find out the hard way.”

Turning around, she leaned against the door, meeting his gaze. “Henry and I grew up together. I didn't really care for him that much in school. We played tag, swung on swings behind the school, shared our dinner pails, but never once did I look at Henry romantically.

“Beulah never liked him, but I thought he was different.” April smiled. “How could I not? He read poems to me. He was always careful about how he spoke in my presence, how he dressed. He made trips to Dallas, but I thought it was…” She shrugged, wishing she'd listened to Beulah and Grandpa. “I believed him. Work, buying books, that's what he told me his life consisted of.”

Gray pulled her gently to him and held her for a moment. Resting her cheek against his chest, she thought how nice it was to be in his arms. He felt good, warm and strong, exactly what she needed. She hoped Francesca appreciated him.

“You're not the first woman to be deceived by a man.”

“It's the first time for me.”

His hand tenderly moved up and down her back in a comforting motion, while tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks. Gray made her feel safe and secure, as if he would always protect her and make everything all right. His heart beat against her ear, and she relished the warmth of his embrace.

She left his arms only when she heard Riley approaching the parlor.

“I'll see you in the morning,” Gray said.

“I'll certainly be there.”

 

April was up before five o'clock. Dressing warmly, she slipped out the back door and hurried through town. The duel was now a ruse—a ruse to make Grace think that she had the upper hand. The guns would shoot blanks—
blanks
, April reminded herself. Nobody would be hurt, and Grace's misplaced sense of outrage would be assuaged. April refused to let herself think otherwise.

The sun wasn't up yet. The community of Dignity was still asleep. A lone wagon rattled across the square on its way out of town.

She reached the livery and walked to the back of the property. Gray was already there, positioning bottles in a long, straight row on an old log.

“Good morning,” she called.

She'd lain awake half the night, worrying about the duel, afraid Riley would hear about it and discover she was one of the two “fools” involved.

Gray's gaze rested on her for several moments. How glorious his eyes were, so compelling, so penetrating, as if he could see to the bottom of her soul.

“I see you're still intent on going through with this.”

She nodded. “I believe I have to face Grace Saturday morning or she will come looking for me—or worse, Grandpa.” The woman surely wouldn't shoot an unarmed, elderly, sick man! But then, Grace had not shown any compassion so far. April couldn't take the chance the woman would cause a scene and Grandpa's heart would give out.

“Then permit me to explain what you've gotten yourself into.”

“But…you said the guns would contain blanks.”

“Yes. Let's just hope that Miss Pruitt's second does not catch on to the ruse.”

April swallowed. “What would happen if he did?”

“In that unfortunate event, the bullets would be real.”

She swallowed again dryly, then settled herself on a log and adjusted her bonnet. “I'm listening.”

“In the first place, dueling is against the law. It has been since 1839. Anyone found dueling, and surviving, can be tried for murder or manslaughter. Do you understand that? You could be imprisoned for murder or executed.”

“I understand,” she whispered. “Go on.”

“A duel is generally meant to draw blood. I can't speak for Grace's intent. The French used to be satisfied with a wound to end a duel, but Americans tend to duel to the death.”

“But there will be no real bullets.”

“That's the best-case scenario.”

“And…if they catch on…?”

“You either run as fast and hard as you can, or you faint—you know, the way you did the day we first met?”

She drew a deep breath. This was insane. What if the reverend heard about it? How would she explain to her pastor that she was dueling like a common heathen? What must God think of her behavior?

“Men have it easier,” she pointed out. “When they're challenged to a duel, you don't see them making a big fuss over it. They just do it. That's how I intend to handle this situation. Just do it…as long as you promise there will be no bullets in the guns.”

Impatient green eyes pierced the distance between them. “I have two pistols. They're identical—that will help. I have a feeling that Grace is high-spirited and spoke—or challenged—before she realized what she was doing. We can hope that she has limited knowledge of firearms, so her suspicions shouldn't be raised unless her second is a shrewd gunman. When you meet Grace, she'll have first choice of weapon. Her second will examine the pistol to make sure it's loaded and hasn't been tampered with.”

April pressed her lips together, listening.

“You and your opponent will hold your pistols, stand back-to-back, then march a specified number of paces. The seconds drop a handkerchief, the two of you turn quickly and fire at one another. To seize the advantage, you must be calm and steady, don't flinch, hold your pistol evenly and squeeze the trigger, don't jerk it. Understand?”

She nodded.

“These are breech-loading pistols. Safer than most. Smith and Wesson developed a brass cartridge a few years ago that makes firing them safer. Now, this is the barrel, this is the chamber that holds the bullets. When you fire, hold the pistol at arm's length—” he demonstrated “—but don't lock your elbow. Keep it slightly bent to absorb the shock. That way you'll appear more capable of hitting your target. Close one eye and aim down the barrel. See that nib at the end? That's how you sight in your target.”

Sight in? Nib?

“I warn you, when you're dueling, you don't have time to think about doing all that. It has to be second nature for you. Like breathing. Now, let's see how you handle the gun, then we'll work on making you look like you're actually firing the weapon. The blanks have sound and smoke, so if you play this right it will look like the real thing. Timing is the key. You must turn and fire exactly at the same time as Grace in order to pull this off. Understand?”