“I’ve killed a man before.” He answered without looking up. “More than one. Only, I don’t care to talk about it, sir.” He rolled a soft lead ball between his fingers and dropped it into the first chamber.
A ripple of sound erupted overhead.Honk. Honk. A V of geese flapped toward Mexico.
“Blast. I should have brought my shotgun.” LeBeau smacked his palm against his hip. “George,” he hollered to theslave who leaned against the fence about fifty yards down the line. “Hurry back to the house and get my shotgun.”
“Yes, Massa.” George waved and trotted off.
Devon rammed the loading lever into the fifth chamber and glanced toward the distant house, where only the roof above the smattering of trees could be seen at this distance beyond the rolling fields. Was Morning Fawn at her window? If she was smart, she’d crack it open a couple of inches, no more, so that it wouldn’t be noticed from the ground. Would she recall he’d done that for her?
If only she could remember that and forget some of the fool things he’d said. He’d give her the moon? Had that really come out of his mouth? What had gotten into him?
“Care to wager?” LeBeau threw back his shoulders, adjusted the brim of his brown top hat, and lifted his revolver toward the target.
Betting? He’d done his share of playing cards and gambling. A skill he’d picked up evenings along the scouting trail after he’d run off at age seventeen. A skill that had earned him the scar on his nose in New Orleans as a newly enlisted Federal officer. “I’ll pass. I’m a bit short on funds at the moment.”
“I’d accept an I.O.U. After all, you’re going to manage my cotton shipment.”
Devon added caps to the chamber nipples and clicked the cylinder back into place. Maybe this was his opportunity. Did he dare ask? With most able-bodied men off fighting in the war, LeBeau was more than eager for his services. Maybe that’d buy him a bit of grace if he overstepped boundaries. “Suppose we wager for something other than money?”
“And what might that be?” LeBeau shifted his revolver in his gloved palm.
Devon exhaled. The mission had to come first. He should keep his mouth shut. Sabotaging the cotton warehouse inAlleyton had the potential to cripple the Trans-Mississippi Confederacy’s ability to buy arms for months.
His throat tightened. If he didn’t do something to intervene on Morning Fawn’s behalf, and they tried to shove that trash down her throat again tonight, he might run up those stairs and wring her uncle’s neck. Devon had brought her to this house. The responsibility lay on his shoulders like a yoke. Surely, there was a way to protect her and complete his mission. He swallowed hard and jumped into the muddy waters of risk. “If more of my shots come closer to the bull's eye than yours, Miss Beth gets to join us for dinner.”
LeBeau pivoted toward him, mouth ajar. Piercing blue eyes scoured Devon as if he were a page in an accounting ledger. “You have an interest in my niece, Lieutenant Reynolds?”
Sweat broke out on the back of Devon’s neck. How should he play this? Interested beau? But there was Thea to contend with. He couldn’t slight the man’s daughter. And Morning Fawn would welcome his attentions about as much as a momma cougar would allow a stranger near her kittens. He shrugged. “I feel bad about treating her so roughly yesterday. She reminds me of my sister.” Mostly a lie. But he had to find some way to intervene without criticizing the man who held the reins of authority. “My younger sister is a wonderful girl, but she can be a bit strong-willed and stubborn.”
“Your sister… I see.” LeBeau smoothed his thumb and forefinger over his mustache. “And how does your stepfather deal with the young lady?”
“By trial and error.”
“Hmmm.” LeBeau squinted his left eye shut, inhaled, and fired.
The target rattled.
LeBeau blew the smoke away from his barrel. “If I win, you’ll act as my factor overseeing the selling and transportation of this year’s crop for free.”
Devon nudged his slouch hat off his forehead. “You drive a hard bargain, sir, but you have a deal.”
“A real gambler for a lady’s hand.” LeBeau eyed him as if measuring his response.
“Mercy for a sister.”
“So you say.” LeBeau squinted, stilled, and fired again.
Footsteps crunched on the graveled walkway.
LeBeau held up his hand toward George. “Stay put.” He fired again. Five times in total, the board rattled each time. ‘Leave the shotgun by the fence and go check my hits. Use the charcoal to mark the spots.”
Should he trust the man’s slave? Devon itched to follow after George and see for himself. But he planted his feet firm and flexed his fingers. Gentlemen didn’t question each other’s honor without reason.
George’s footfalls churned across the field, scaring off a rabbit.
LeBeau swiped his brow with a handkerchief and dug his brandy flask from his pocket. “So, Reynolds, tell me more about your sister.”
An opportunity to bring in his idea regarding Morning Fawn. “My stepfather discovered she cooperated more fully when she earned a reward for doing so.”
