Page 27 of The Winter Husband
“That’s it.” He released her hand and stepped away from what he shouldn’t be imagining. “Now cock it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Cock it.” Nervous as a doe during the hunt, she was. “Put your thumb here.” He took the icicle that was her thumb and set it on the hammer. “Pull that back until you hear a click.”
She tried. Her thumb slid over the top of the hammer. When she made it jump, he slammed his hand over hers, which madeherjump. By the saints, he was always scaring the wits out of this woman.
“When the hammer hits the frizzen,” he explained, “sparks will fly.”
“S-s-sparks?”
“That’ll light the powder in the pan, which will set off the charge inside. The ball will go wherever the bore is aimed, so make sure you cock that hammer all the way back until it clicks, while keeping the gun aimed exactly where you want to shoot, just in case the hammer flies unintentionally.”
He was close enough to hear her swallow.
“I’ll cock it for now.” He nudged her thumb off the hammer and used his own to pull the lever back. “Did you hear that click?”
Her head nodded in the nook of his jaw and throat.
“Now put your finger on the trigger and squeeze it to fire—”
“The workings are apparent to me now, Captain Girard.”
Her voice, as cool as her fingers.
Good. The grit was back.
“Whenever you’re ready.” He stepped away to give her the freedom to move. “Aim for one of those logs, then squeeze. I should warn you—”
POW.
The recoil jerked her against his chest. He seized her to keep her upright.
She gasped and dropped the weapon. “What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing. That’s the recoil.” Warmth rose from a gap in her shawl, smelling of woman and roses. “You’re bundled for more reasons than the cold. Those shawls work as padding to cushion the hit.”
She shook out of his grip. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
“You’d have tightened up and made the impact worse.”
“Or I could have braced myself.”
“You’re not my first recruit, Marie—”
“Nor am I a soldier.”
“Soldier or not, in this wilderness you have to shoot without fear. You can’t hesitate when what needs killing is coming at you fast.”
She glared at him. “Just tell me what I need to know before I need to know it.”
“Here’s something you should know,” he said tightly. “This flintlock is a lot like you. It doesn’t take much to set it off.”
Shouldn’t have said that. Shouldn’t be goading her. But last night, in the dark of the storm, for one brief moment, she had clung to him. Since then, he hadn’t had a moment free of that memory. She’d thrown up walls between them ever since their first meeting. Now he knew how easily those walls could tumble down.
She turned her face away, so he saw nothing but the stiffness of her shoulders and rigid carriage of her head. He couldn’t eat the words, so he walked a wide circle around her to pick up the weapon from where it had fallen. The pan was full of wet snow. He focused on swiping out the flakes and drying it. Better to fix his attention on the weapon and not the woman wreaking havoc on his fragile peace of mind.
Finally, she said, “I didn’t knock over a single target.”
