of your…wood…when I need to be inside making sure my damn chicken doesn’t burn.”
She flounced back inside.
Jonas huffed out a laugh. “I like her. I mostly like that she’s already got a hold of your bollocks nice and tight.”
After hearing that, she slammed the door.
She’d just finished frying the chicken when the door opened and Silas yelled in, “Is it safe to come in or are you still sore?”
“Come in. It’s your house.”
Silas moved in behind her and kissed the nape of her neck. “It’s our house, darlin’.”
“Did you work off your extra energy?”
“Some of it.” He pressed another kiss to her temple. “I’m savin’ the rest for you.”
She whirled around, biting back the wince of pain, and noticed he still hadn’t put on a shirt. Peering around his arm to make sure his brother wasn’t watching, she lapped at the sweat that had pooled in the hollow of his throat. “Mmm. You still taste angry though.”
He hissed in a breath. “Don’t start something we can’t finish.”
“Then put some clothes on. If your brother is half-naked tell him the same.”
He held fast to her arm and the agony from it nearly knocked her to her knees. “Sugar pie, have you been drinkin’?”
Whiskey dulled the pain, so she’d been sneaking a nip as needed. “Yes. It’s a day for celebration. And after the morning I had, I have every right to get rip roaring drunk.”
Unsurprisingly, he didn’t have a response for that.
Dinah dished up the chicken, potatoes and gravy, green beans and cream biscuits. She’d mixed sugar with the leftover sour cherries to create a sweet drink. But it wasn’t sweet enough. “Silas, do we have rum? Or just whiskey?”
“Just whiskey. If you want rum—”
“Put it on the list” they finished together and laughed.
That’s when Jonas sauntered in. He sent them an amused smile and pulled out his chair. “Dinah. This looks outstanding. Thanks for cookin’ for us.”
“My pleasure.”
There wasn’t much small talk during the meal. Dinah wondered if it was a habit with them or if they were avoiding a specific conversation about the morning’s events. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?” she asked Jonas.
“Heading back into town. Gotta make sure none of the kids burn the buildings down with their fireworks.”
Maybe he and Ruby had made plans to meet up later.
“Sundance?” Silas asked. “Or Labelle?”
“Labelle. There’s a community dance in Sundance after the city fireworks. I expect it’ll be quiet in Labelle since most businesses are closed, unlike Sundance where everything is open later than usual.” He wiped his fingers. “Are you stayin’ here tonight, Dinah?”
“I’d planned on it. But now I wonder if I should be at Doc’s in case there are fireworks injuries.”
“Nope. You’re stayin’ here. He can do without you for one damn night.” Silas picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I can’t.”
“Aww. Listen to you sweet-talk me, McKay.” She winked at Jonas. “You think his need for me to stay has something to do with the fact I haven’t finished baking that cherry pie yet?”
Jonas laughed. “Maybe.”
After they finished their late lunch, the brothers rode off for “a bit” without saying where they were headed. Dinah washed the dishes, put the pie in the oven and wandered out to check on the potatoes and other root vegetables she’d planted. But even that brought her pain. Since she was alone, she allowed herself to give in to tears.
Silas returned alone. In a somber mood.
After he dealt with his horse, he returned inside and immediately came back out with the box containing the gun he’d gotten at Farnum’s.
“Darlin’, come here. I wanna show you how to load this.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s different than the Winchester 30-30 rifle and the Colt revolver we practiced with last week.”
“I’m not in the mood.” God. She ached. There was no way she could hold up a gun for more than a second or two.
His fingers circled her wrist, keeping her from flouncing off. “Then get in the mood, because we’re target shootin’ with this.”
“It’s…little,” she said when he held it up.
“Got enough stopping power to make you rethink that little comment.” He held it out for her to inspect. “It’s a Remington Model 95 derringer. Over/under double barrel. Ammo is .41rimfire and I got you a box of that too.”
“Silas. I don’t—”
“Just hold it.” Then he dropped it in the palm of her hand.
“It’s heavier than I expected.”
“And yet, it’ll fit in your apron pocket.”
Her gaze flew to his. “I can’t carry a gun around all the