Page 33 of Snowed In with her Mountain Men
OAKLEY
The burst of orange and yellow subsided, leaving nothing but a faint wisp of smoke curling from the end of my rifle. The shot had no echo. It was swallowed by the stillness of the surrounding woods.
Fuck.
The scent of gunpowder lingered, as I slowly lowered the gun. It was a warning shot, nothing more. But to whoever was out there, it marked an escalation. It put a new, deadly edge on the invisible interaction between us and our unknown guest.
“O—Oakley?”
I turned; to find Camryn halfway concealed in a group of saplings behind me. She wasn’t wearing a jacket. Stuck on her feet, was what looked to be Ryder’s old boots.
She stepped out, clutching her chest. The worried look in those pretty blue eyes made my heart melt.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I lied. “Everything’s fine. I just got home.”
I nodded toward my sheriff’s vehicle. The rapidly-cooling engine was still ticking against the bitter cold.
“What were you shooting at?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “I mean, well… I thought I saw a bear.”
She wrapped both arms around herself and shivered, involuntarily. “A bear?”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling angry at myself for lying to her. “I think it’s gone now. Let’s get inside before—”
“Or were you shooting at the person who left these? ”
She extended a finger downward, to the tracks. My shoulders slumped.
“This is what Jaxon was talking about, wasn’t it?” she asked quietly. “The first night I was here?”
Another blatant lie leapt to mind. I shoved it away with both hands.
“Yes.”
The wind picked up, bringing with it the soft rustle of pine needles. I pulled my jacket off; and draped it around her shoulders.
“Thanks,” she said, pulling at one sleeve. “For this, but also, for telling the truth.”
“Not a problem,” I found myself saying. “At this point, you need to be kept in the loop.”
Her blonde hair bounced as she nodded, appreciatively. “So who do you think it is?”
“No clue,” I told her. “It’s someone who’s after the diamonds, though.”
Her brows came together, adorably. “But I thought no one else knew about them?”
“There were always rumors about what he did,” I shrugged. “Stories and conjecture. Besides, who knows who else Sarge might’ve confided in?”
“Probably not too many people,” she reasoned. “You three were the sons he never had, and even then, he saved it for a deathbed confession.”
Together our eyes followed the tracks, which zig-zagged in and out of the tree line. At one point they circled the house, stopping at our most recently disturbed mounds of dirt.
“You need cameras,” Camryn declared. “Pronto.”
“It won’t accomplish much, unfortunately,” I sighed. “Even with the best resolution, it’ll probably show some guy in a parka stomping around, digging at our spoils. Nothing we don’t already know.”
“Still…”
“Ryder wants to set a trap,” I laughed. “Something nasty, too. Jaxon and I talked him off that ledge a few times already. But these days, I have to admit, the idea is growing on me.”
Casually I set the rifle across my shoulder. I caught her staring at it.
“You shoot?”
She shook her head. “Never.”
“Why not? Are you afraid of guns?”
“No,” she shrugged. “I’ve just never shot one.”
I pulled the Bushmaster from my shoulder, checked it carefully, and chambered a round. “C’mere.”
Camryn didn’t hesitate. She moved to my side, as I transferred the weapon smoothly into her hands.
“In a place like this, shooting isn’t sport; it’s necessity,” I told her. “There are too many things that can come out of those woods, and most of them are bigger than you.”
She nodded, and I began instructing her. Folding into her from behind, I showed her proper stance, sighting, and finger placement. We chose a target; a thick pine fifty yards away, with no branches or obstruction.
“Now relax, and remember there’s going to be a kick. Your shoulder will absorb it, but just know it’s there.”
“Okay.”
I showed her how to breathe, and how to pull through the trigger rather than squeeze it. These were all techniques my father showed me, and that I one day hoped to teach my own children. Even as I instructed Camryn, I felt an unexpected measure of pride in passing them down.
“Now flip off the safety,” I murmured, stepping away. “And take the shot.”
She took her time, which was good. Eventually the shot rang out, and Camryn was rocked gently back by the retort. Her round grazed the tree, about an inch from the right-side edge. But a hit was a hit.
“Not bad,” I grinned.
She handed the rifle back to me quickly, then shivered from head to toe.
“Teach me more,” she said, “when it’s daylight out. And I’m warmly dressed. And I’m wearing my own boots. And—”
I hugged her against me, and kissed her forehead. It felt like putting my lips on an icicle.
“Let’s get you back inside, and feed the fire,” I told her. “I plan on making the house so hot you’ll take off all of your clothes.”