Page 63 of Charlotte's Reckoning
Afraid of what they contained, she preferred to wait to open them until she was alone. With timely intervention, a loud crash followed by shouts arose from downstairs.
“At the rate they break glasses around here, we’ll be in the poorhouse by Christmas,” Fen grumbled, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as if fighting a headache. “When I was coming up, Bert Olsen staggered in full as a tick already. I knew he’d be trouble tonight.”
With trembling fingers, Charlotte tucked the letters in the top drawer of her dresser for later. “I banned Bert from the second floor ages ago. He’s a mean drunk and always spoiling for a fight.”
“Looks like he’s found one,” he said tiredly. “I need to ban him for life.”
“You’ve said that before. What has stopped you?” she replied, relieved he seemed to have forgotten the mystery of Rowena Dunn.
His hand fell away and, when his eyes met hers, he looked done in. “Because he’s one of the few who runs a tab but pays it on time. With the others, it’s like pulling teeth. I’ll go take care of it.”
Except for his hand, which went to the back of his neck and squeezed, Fen didn’t move. He carried his tension in his shoulders. When they got tight and his neck ached, he usually asked her to rub it for him, but he appeared too tired, even for that.
“You’ve had a long trip. I know you’re exhausted,” she said softly. “Stay here and rest while I have a word with him.”
His head came up instantly. “No, you won’t. Any words will come from me, but I appreciate the offer.”
“You think I can’t handle the likes of Bert Olsen?” she asked huffily.
“What are you going to do about it? He’s got a foot on you and weighs double, at least.”
“I’ll bring one of your pistols and let it talk for me.”
Her bravado must have breathed a second wind into him because he doubled over with laughter.
She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for his amusement to pass. “What may I ask is so funny?” she inquired when he showed no sign of stopping.
“You are,” he hooted. “Remember our shooting lessons? You couldn’t hit the fabled broadside of a barn while standing five feet away from it.”
“It was just one lesson, and I wasn’t that bad,” she insisted, fighting the urge to smack him.
“Oh, yes, you were,” he sputtered. “You were aiming at tin cans on a fence, but your first shot hit the side of Jeb Pearcy’s feed wagon twenty yards away. The men who had gathered to watch scattered like a bunch of squawking chickens as they ran for cover. After I picked you up from the dirt and dusted you off, your next shot almost hit the mule attached to the wagon. That ornery old mule didn’t hurry to get out when his stable caught fire, but he actually galloped when you shot at him that night.” Fenton laughed so hard tears tracked down his face. “I’ll never forget red-faced Jeb and his jiggling potbelly trying to run it down, gasping every breath as he consigned it, and you, to the devil.”
This sent him into greater peals of laughter.
“Are you about done?” she inquired in a tight voice, not appreciating his humor at her expense. When he didn’t answer and kept chortling, she stalked toward him and pulled one of his pistols out of its holster.
That sobered him quickly. Before she could storm out, he caught her and plucked the gun from her hand. “What have I said about shooting? You don’t draw unless you intend to shoot, and you don’t shoot unless you intend to kill.”
“Who says I’m not or that I won’t?”
“I do. You’re a lousy shot, Charlotte, which is dangerous in a crowded saloon.”
“Tell that to Prue’s attacker,” she reminded him with a sniff.
“What were you aiming at?” he challenged. “And be truthful.”
“The dirt at his feet,” she admitted.
Fen sighed, running a hand over his face. “You got lucky that night.”
“Maybe we should resume my lessons. Why did we stop?”
“My nerves couldn’t take it,” he replied, as solemn as a priest.
“I would have improved,” she insisted. “As it stands, I’m part owner of a saloon in a rough only half-civilized town and can’t be trusted to handle a drunk.”
“You have me to protect you.”
