Broken Rider(16)
“I’m going to set another bottle atop the log, don’t get trigger-happy while I’m over there,” Jack said. She watched as he walked across the makeshift firing range and found her eyes focused on his bow-legged strut. She began to wonder what caliber rifle Jack was packing in his Wrangler jeans but shook the image from her mind. You’re here to build a business, she reminded herself, not to seduce a cowboy widower.
Jack made his way back next to her and motioned for her to try again. “Focus on your breathing,” he instructed. “Become one with your breathe and the rest will take care of itself.” Erin thought the man’s Zen-like approach to handling a firearm was a bit eccentric, but she did as he instructed. As she closed her eyes and began focusing on her breathing, Jack continued. “The rifle is nothing but an extension of your arm, like a fork. You don’t consciously think of aiming your fork before you use it do you? It should be the same with a rifle. See the target and calmly make it explode.”
Erin focused on her breathing and when Jack said, “Now, aim and fire!” she did. The bottle exploded before her eyes and she shrieked again. Jack smiled; at least it looked like he did, before his deadpan gaze returned. “Good job,” he said. “Now, quickly, aim for the bottle resting on the ground and fire.” Erin did as he instructed but missed the target by a good foot. She looked up at him for guidance. He offered none, and just nodded his head and got back on his horse. “Keep practicing,” he said. “Don’t think in terms of success and failure, learn to love the process. Soon, the rifle will feel as comfortable in your hands as a fork does.” He tipped his ten-gallon hat in her direction and snapped his heels into the side of his horse.
Erin watched as he rode off and wondered to herself if the feelings she was developing for Jack Riggans were born out of loneliness or is she really was attracted to him as much as her body was telling her. She decided it was best to not think about the issue too much, before the thoughts began to consume her entirely. Instead she cleared her mind and walked over the stump and set up another target.
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The rains began the following day and didn’t let up for close to a week. Erin spent the time cleaning up the interior of the cabin and making a list of projects she wanted to start. She began by doing research online and figuring out what fruits and vegetable she could grow on her own in the North Dakota climate. One thing led to another and before she knew it she had diagrams drawn out of a greenhouse she wanted to build right next to the cabin. She figured the guests would like to see exactly where their food came from, plus Erin had always wanted a garden of her own. Something that was next to impossible to achieve living in a concrete jungle like Chicago.
Cindy showed up the day the rains stopped and brought fresh eggs and a pound cake with her. Erin didn’t realize how lonely she’d become over the past week and nearly bust with excitement when she heard a knock at the door. She thought---or perhaps hoped---it was Jack on the other side and she nearly tripped on her way to the door. When she opened it and saw that it was Cindy instead, she smiled. “Cindy, it’s so nice to see you!”
Cindy must have noticed the glee on her face. “Got yourself a case of cabin fever I see. Don’t worry, it usually doesn’t rain that long.”
“Yeah, I suppose I am a little lonely down here. I haven’t seen Jack around all week. Do you have any idea where he sleeps these days?”
Cindy shrugged. "I have no idea. I haven’t seen Jack in months, but I know he's prone to long rides on his Harley. Don’t you worry though, once it starts snowing he will look for proper a proper roof over his head Even Jack Riggans isn’t hard enough to battle with a North Dakota winter atop a motorcycle.”
Erin took Cindy’s coat and fired up the kettle for a fresh pot of coffee. Cindy offered her the eggs and asked if she would like some pound cake with the coffee. Erin told her that sounded like a great idea and the two women sat at the coffee table and began gossiping. “So,” Erin asked, “is Jack anti-social or something?”
“I wouldn’t say he’s anti-social,” Cindy answered between sips of her coffee. “He’s always been the loner type, even before he met Sarah. She helped to open him up a little bit, but after she died he want back to keeping to himself. It’s in his nature I suppose. Why do you ask?” Cindy’s tone suggested she could sense Erin’s attraction, but wanted to tread lightly.
“I was just wondering. He helped me shoot my rifle last week and I thought perhaps he would be comfortable enough to stop by the cabin, but I haven’t seen him since. I got worried when the rains started and assumed he would show up at the front door. When he didn’t I became a little nervous, that’s all.”