afternoon light. She smiled, watching the larch tree boughs sway. The cool fall breeze blew her hair into her face. Seylah briefly closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. The faint sound of a gunshot floated to her and she opened her eyes with a smile.
Yes, change was scary, as Delilah had said, but that did not mean it could not also be good. Seylah tucked the paper into her pocket, her heart feeling lighter at the thought of what precisely different could mean.
By her estimation, different could be perfect when it came to courtship and August.
Chapter 9
When Seylah rounded the corner, her eyes caught sight of August walking along the target stands at the far end of the open space.
The range was a luxury, considering her hobby of target shooting, and she was thankful her fathers had seen fit to create it for her. The target stands were at varying heights, allowing for variety in terms of target practice. Raised earth created a protective barrier for when shots went wild, which though a rare occurrence given the household’s affinity for firearms, but one could never be too careful with live ammunition. A partially covered firing point afforded Seylah the choice of practicing during the more severe seasons of Montana. She continued forward to the enclosure and leaned her elbows on the high tabletop of the firing point.
Seylah glanced at the guns and smiled when she saw the revolvers August favored. She reached out and touched one of them, thoughts straying to the day he had been given this particular pair. She had given them to him the year they had made up with one another.
Her fingers traced the curve of the A that was etched into the handle of the gun and her eyes moved to the next in the set, her eyes landing on the S the gunsmith had engraved. When Seylah had presented the guns to August, the look of awe on his face had filled her heart to capacity and she’d made a quick study of how to set the look on the man’s face as often as she could. She hoped she would see such a smile from their encounter today.
Seylah raised her eyes and pushed herself up to her full height as she watched August approach. August liked it out here on her family’s property, and she knew why. It was easy to relax when there was no one to see their every move. The town of Gold Sky meant well, but at times it was overwhelming to have so many invested in the comings-and-goings of your every day.
He raised a hand in greeting when he saw her. A thrill went through her, watching August approach. His broad shoulders stretched the flannel pleasingly, and Seylah’s earlier infatuation with a man in fine attire, a man built like a house, vanished.
If Elliot were a house, then August was a mountain. Raw and powerful, steady in his everlasting presence with roots far beyond what anyone could ever hope to witness. The man cut a fine figure in his denim and plaid. His golden hair gleamed in the afternoon light, the reddish hue of it akin to the larch boughs, and she suddenly wondered if the reason she adored fall so much was for the way that the season and this man resembled the other.
He wasn’t on duty today, and the casual attire softened him enough that Seylah was able to imagine what he might look like when they were alone, when work and the eyes of the town were nowhere to be seen.
“Hi,” he said, coming to a stop on the other side of the table top.
“Hi,” she answered and pointed out at the targets behind him. “Still shooting?”
He hooked his fingers into his belt loops, and Seylah struggled not to let her eyes stray to where his exposed forearms bunched. Who knew a pair of rolled up shirtsleeves would be her undoing?
“Was planning on it, but it wasn’t too enjoyable alone.”
“May I stay a while?”
He flashed her a smile, his blue eyes warm on her. “I’d like nothing more than your company, Seylah. You can use one of our guns if you don’t want to go back to the house for yours.”
Her heart fluttered when he said our guns. “Do you mean that?” She asked.
August ducked under the tabletop and came to stand beside her. “Mean what?” He asked, placing ammunition on the table between them.
“Our guns,” she said, nodding at the revolvers. “Do you really think