A Great Catch by Lorna Seilstad

gasped. “What’s the boy doing out there?”
    “That’s Mr. Hawkins’s boy. He keeps the steam engine going.”
    “But he could get hurt.”
    Carter laughed. “Only if you shoot him. Have you ever fired a gun before?”
    Emily shook her head. Suddenly she found the idea of a weapon in her hands quite terrifying. With her luck, she might end up wounding Carter for real or, worse, accidentally shooting the child. “Maybe I should just watch.”
    “Not on your life. Come on. I’ll teach you.” As soon as the two patrons left, Carter led her to the plank where the guns lay. Reaching in his pocket, he furnished the owner with two dimes. “Hello, Mr. Hawkins. We need two of your best rifles.”
    “They’re all the same, Carter.”
    “Ah, but you and I both know some are sighted better.”
    Mr. Hawkins gave a full-bellied laugh and pointed to the second and fourth ones lying on the divider. “Those two ought to work for you.”
    Emily took a step back. “Why don’t you go first?”
    “I don’t think so, Miss Suffragette.” Carter picked up his gun and pushed a second rifle into her hands. Immediately, he angled the barrel of Emily’s gun toward the ground. “The first rule of using a gun is never to aim at anything you don’t plan to shoot. And while we joked about you killing me, I’d really like to take you to supper tonight, and I can’t do that if I’m dead.”
    “Sorry.” Her cheeks warmed again.
    “That’s okay. These are Winchester pump rifles, which means to shoot them, you have to push the magazine forward like this.” He shoved the wooden cylinder up on the barrel and put a bullet in. “They shoot .22 shorts. They’d shoot a hole through a man, so remember to keep it aimed at the targets.”
    “You do realize you’re taking your life in your hands.”
    “You’ll do great. Ready?”
    When she didn’t move, he turned her. “Emily, you need to spread your, uh, stance and stand more like a man.”
    She shifted her feet wider apart. “This isn’t very ladylike, Carter.”
    “But it will help you hit the little squirrels.”
    She flinched.
    “Let me guess. You like squirrels.”
    “And bunnies.”
    He chuckled. “Now, put the butt of the gun against your right shoulder.”
    “Like this?”
    “Sort of.” He stepped behind her and raised the gun to the correct position, his large hands covering her own.
    Her back pressed against his chest, and she felt every breath he took. Emily’s stomach warmed and lurched all at once. Never before had she been this close to a man.
    “Relax,” he whispered in her ear.
    She jerked and fired a shot in the air. The bullet pinged off the ceiling, and the rebound threw her against Carter.
    He caught her and turned her around to face him. “Emily, what are you doing?”
    “I—I—”
    Mr. Hawkins roared with laughter. “I think a better question is what were you doing?”
    Carter shot him a glare. “Let’s try again.” He resumed the position behind her, his breath hot on her neck. “This time, slowly squeeze the trigger.”
    Clamping her eyes shut, she complied.
    The shot ricocheted off the ceiling.
    A loud guffaw erupted from Mr. Hawkins. “Hey, Carter, you’d better give her rule two.” The owner shielded his eyes with his palm.
    Releasing her, Carter came around to face her. “Did you close your eyes?”
    “You didn’t tell me not to.”
    Carter grinned and shook his head. “Emily, keep your eyes open. Go ahead. Try again.”
    To her relief, he took a step back. She lifted the rifle in place, aimed at the bull’s-eye, and fired. A familiar ping sounded, and then a little organ began to play a joyful tune.
    “I did it!” She bounced up and down.
    Carter grabbed the barrel of the gun. “Emily, remember rule one about how to use a gun?”
    “That wasn’t rule one. Rule one was never to point at anything you don’t plan to shoot.”
    He lifted his eyebrows and nodded toward the boy who had stood in her line of fire as she