on the table. “As much as I want to know about you and Morgan and your life before you came to Kahlerville, I can’t help but wonder if he has told you about his wife.”
Casey often wondered if his ill temperament had something to do with his marriage. Had she been unfaithful? Died during childbirth or gotten sick? “Not yet, but I’m going to insist on it tonight after I explain a few things to your family.”
Bonnie stood from the table and clasped her hands behind her. “Those days were a nightmare. We thought he’d never get over her death.” She shrugged ever so daintily. “Our whole family is grateful for what you’ve done for him.”
Casey reached for her hand. Morgan should tell her this part of his life. “Enough of this gloom. What do you say about stirring together a batch of sugar cookies?”
A sharp sound cracked in the afternoon silence. Gunfire. A mixture of alarm and old memories sent Casey to her feet. “I wonder where that’s coming from.”
“Oh, it’s most likely Grant.” Bonnie sipped at her coffee.
“What’s he doing?”
“Target practice. He doesn’t bring out the rifle and revolver when Mama’s around. She says it’s a waste of ammunition and time.”
“Why does he do it?” Casey peered through the kitchen window in the direction of the shots.
“Probably has something to do with his curiosity with outlaws. I mean he reads the dime novels—everything he can find about the Dalton Brothers, Jessie and Frank James, Cole Younger, Billie the Kid, but not Davis Jenkins.”
“I thought he wanted to be a doctor. You mean he wants to be a lawman?”
“Maybe. Mama and he fussed about the revolver until he told her he wouldn’t bring it out again. He still wants to do everything as well as Morgan. And Morgan is fast.”
Casey’s stomach knotted. “Being fast with a gun doesn’t make him more of a man.” Uneasiness about Grant’s obsession crept around her heart. A whirlwind of outlaw faces—dead and alive—swept across her mind.
“I agree, but he’s up there practicing with it now.” Bonnie smiled. “I don’t see any harm in target practice, but Mama says the gun leads to other things.”
“She’s right.” Visions of Tim swept across Casey’s mind. “I’ve never seen any of his friends.”
“That’s ’cause Mama and Morgan ran most of them off. Grant had a wild streak for a while, but he’s doing much better. Mama didn’t realize how Morgan’s tragedy had affected him.”
What had happened to Morgan and his wife? A thought struck her. Did Morgan accidentally shoot his wife? “I have to talk to Grant. Can you tell me where to find him?”
“He won’t like you interfering.” Bonnie’s eyes flashed a warning. “My brother can be as bullheaded as Morgan. Mercy, Shawne, I really think you should stay here. I’ll talk to him about stopping, I promise.”
Casey headed for the door. Grant worried her, for she’d met his stubborn nature a time or two, an admirable trait if led in the right direction but harmful if not controlled. She knew Jocelyn and Grant argued at times, and Casey thought their arguments had to do with a young man seeking to become a man.
“I don’t know who’s more headstrong in this family. All right, he’s on the southwest ridge. Let’s get our horses, and I’ll take you myself.”
“I need to talk to him alone.”
Bonnie expelled a heavy sigh. “All right. I’ll show you where he is and then ride back.”
Casey hurried to the barn with Bonnie close at her heels. It marked one of the few occasions when the younger woman had nothing to say. Each time the gunfire echoed, Casey quickened the motions of saddling Stampede. She glanced at Bonnie struggling with the cinch on her saddle and wordlessly assisted her.
How could she stop Grant? Perhaps she could reason with him. He liked her. She’d have to be blind not to see that. The whole idea of him pumping bullet after bullet into a target infuriated her. And his interest in outlaws? But not Jenkins? So much she didn’t understand about this family.
Too well she recalled the squeeze of the trigger and the feel of metal against the palm of her hand. She remembered the smell of gunfire smoke and the best-forgotten nightmares of riding with an outlaw gang.
Grant must be made to understand the severity of his private game.
Oh God, please help me convince him of this foolishness. Help me to speak the words of wisdom.
The two women mounted their horses and spurred the