My eyes bug out at the large revolver in his hand. It seems better fitted to the Wild West, not on a ranch in Wyoming.
“No,” I admit.
He nods as if he expected my answer. “Well, it’s time to learn.”
I take a step back. “What?”
ChapterThirty-Four
Kate
Levi and Wiley stay back at the barn because they have other things to do they claim. So it ends up just being Dakota and me. He grabs one of the four-wheelers and hops on before gesturing for me to hop on the back. I climb up and wrap my arms around his waist before he takes off, speeding away from the house.
I’ve ridden on the back of a motorcycle before. Questionable choices in men led to questionable modes of transportation once upon a time, but none of that prepared me for riding on the back of a four-wheeler across rough ground. It’s a bumpy ride that throws me tighter against Dakota’s back, my groin grinding against the back of his jeans and driving me insane. At one point, my hat flies off and we have to stop for me to grab it and shove it down further on my head. Dakota keeps driving until we’re at the base of the mountains. Only when he’s happy with the position does he stop and help me off.
“We needed to come all the way out here to shoot?” I ask, looking around. I have to admit, it’s a beautiful spot. The mountains above us are gorgeous. I often think I could sit out and stare at them all day.
“It makes for better practice,” he shrugs. “Besides, I like the way the sounds echo out here.” He reaches into the bucket hanging from the back of the four-wheeler and pulls out a bunch of glass beer bottles, all empty. “Targets,” he offers as explanation before going and setting them up on a log.
“You think I’m gonna be able to hit those?” I ask with raised brow. “I’ve never even shot a gun before.”
“By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be hitting ‘em,” he replies with a smile. “Now come on over here.”
I step up to his side as he holds up his revolver.
“This here is mine. It’s gonna be too big for you to use all the time, but it’ll be fine for practice. I’ll get you a smaller one to carry.”
“To carry?” I repeat. “I have to carry one?”
“Well, a gun don’t do much good if you ain’t got it on you,” he laughs.
I grimace. “True, I suppose.”
He points to the barrel. “This is where the bullet comes out of.” When I level him with an annoyed glare, his grin widens. “You said you’ve never shot one. I figured we’d start with remedial gun facts.”
“I’m not stupid,” I growl, thumping him in the bicep. “I know how it works. I’ve just never shot one.”
He nods. “Okay, okay. Well, main rules. Don’t pull it out unless you plan to use it. Don’t point it at anyone at any time unless you’re going to shoot them.”
“Understandable,” I nod. “What else?”
“If someone else has a gun pointed at you, shoot first,” he says. At my look of disbelief, he shakes his head. “You’re an amateur. If someone is pointing a gun at you, they won’t be. Don’t prolong it. Your best chance of survival is shooting first. Always aim for the largest part of the body.”
“So, the chest,” I mumble, nodding.
“Unless he has a monster cock,” Dakota says, drawing a giggle from me. “Then aim for that.”
“Good to know,” I say, shaking my head. “Okay, show me how to shoot it.”
He points to the gun. “This is a revolver. A handgun won’t work exactly the same and that’ll probably be what you carry, but we’ll work on that later. I’ll show you this one.” He points to a part on the back of the gun. “The hammer is also the safety on a revolver. This notch is the safety. The cylinder holds six bullets. To shoot, you pull back the hammer, and squeeze the trigger.”
“So there’s no fancy safety switch?” I ask, studying it.
“Nope. Just the hammer. This is a bit old school.”
I reach up and brush my finger along the golden inlaid work along the grip. The ranch brand is inlaid in the carved ivory worn but well kept.
“It was my dad’s,” he offers as explanation even though I don’t ask. “The one he used when he shot himself.”