Page 68 of One Chance to Stay
“I don’t knowwhatI’m here for.”
“We’re going to test your marksmanship skills.” As he said it, he pulled the strap over his head, revealing the rifle attached to his back.
I wanted to tell Seamus he needed to do a little research on what constituted as a date. Dinner. Drinks. Telling stories about our childhoods. Though I guess as far as dates go, this was very Seamus. I still wasn’t entirely sure about Abraham’s role. Did he know he served as the third wheel in this “romantic” escapade?
“And you?”
“I’m a good shot,” Seamus admitted. “Abraham is an expert marksman.” I caught the hint of a smirk.
“Three-time Piscataquis County golden bullet winner.”
To anybody else, it’d be three guys hanging out, playing with their rifles. I snickered at the thought. I wanted to ask if the surprise had been firing guns at tin cans or if it revolved around him connecting with an old friend. As far as dates went, it ranked high on the weird scale, but also at least a little cute.
“You ever fired one of these before?”
Abraham took the rifle from Seamus, keeping the barrel pointed to the ground. When I shook my head, he held it up, cradled against his chest.
“First rule. Only point it at things you intend to shoot.” I nodded. “If you point it at me, best pull the trigger ‘cause I’ll knock some common sense in you.”
I gulped. “Yes, sir.”
“Trigger.” He pointed. “Only touch it if you want to fire. If you touch it before?—”
“You’ll knock some common sense into me.”
Abraham nodded. “Seamus told me you were smart.” He explained end-to-end. Muzzle. Barrel. Sight. Chamber. Bolt. Trigger. Stock. Butt. I had seen hunters before, but they always had decked-out guns. With a quick slide of the bolt, a metal casing popped up in the air. He caught in a well-rehearsed move.
“She’s treated me good over the years,” Seamus said.
“I thought you didn’t hunt.”
“Coyotes,” he mumbled. “Or strangers at the door.”
I shot Seamus a dirty look. Abraham handed me the rifle and, for a moment, I hesitated. Long ago, I stopped considering myself an outsider. Maine had become my home, but this would instantly thrust me into the backwoods. Maybe it wouldn’t be bad? If I hit one target, I’d prove myself and in no time, Seamus would be asking me to clear out the coyotes.
“Let’s do this.” I took the rifle, cocking it against my shoulder.
“Cocky,” Abraham said.
“You have no idea,” Seamus added. “Thankfully, he’s handsome.”
Did he just compliment me? I turned, and Abraham smacked me in the back of the head. “Eyes forward.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m not sure about handsome,” Abraham said, “but at least he has manners.”
“Says the man who went on a date with his son’s boyfriend.”
Wait. What? Yes, Abraham hitting on his future son-in-law deserved a raised eyebrow. What surprised me, however, was that Seamus knew town gossip. He joked. Did Seamus have friends? Did he sit around a table tasting whiskey, laughing aboutanything?I had questions about this doppelgänger that replaced the Seamus from a week ago.
I braced the rifle against my shoulder and pressed my cheek against the stock. Staring down the sight, I could see a tin can sitting on the fence. I picked the largest one, determined to show these gentlemen that I could be an outdoorsman. If Abraham was ever going to take me seriously, I needed to make up for the axe debacle.
I slid my finger over the trigger. Guns and menacing tin cans wouldn’t have been my first choice for a date, but I wanted to impress. I exhaled, the can in my sight. Easing my finger over the trigger?—
BANG.
The world went white. No, I wasn’t dead. When I landed on my back, snow puffed into the air, covering my face. Even if I hit the villainous tin can, I’m not sure I’d be able to count it as a victory. Abraham chuckled as they pulled me to my feet. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about Abraham laughing at my axe skills.
