In the middle of finishing his tale about the mirror, Hance pushed up his spectacles and examined their intertwined hands before smiling and scooting closer.

Jericho’s grin fell away. He took rapid aim at the next can and fired. The tin flew into the air. Ty, standing next to Judd and well behind Jericho, gave a whoop, and Ellie started to cheer. But Jericho was already aiming at the next can and shooting. Within seconds, he sent the last half a dozen flying.

When the cans lay scattered about the yard, he holstered his Colt, then turned and faced Hance. “Time’s up.”

Hance paused midsentence.

Jericho rested his hand on his revolver. Was he trying to scare Hance again?

Ivy stood, hefting Ellie with her, which forced her to release Hance’s hand. “Who appointed you my chaperone today?”

“I appointed myself and was giving you until I finished my target practice.”

“Do it again, Jericho!” Ty shouted, staying close to Judd.

Ellie wiggled her way free and ran over to join Ty. “Do it again, Jericho.”

About everything the girl said was a repeat of her big brother, reminding Ivy of how readily she’d followed after Dylan, how she’d admired him for so many years. If only she’d seen his pain and heartbreak coming, maybe she could have been there for him, been a better listener, helped soften the blow of rejection from Bethina Egleston when she’d turned down his offer of marriage and continued west with her family.

“We’re done for today,” Jericho said firmly. Both children’s shoulders slumped and their smiles disappeared. But with the way Jericho was staring straight at her, his statement had been meant for her, not them.

When his attention dropped to Hance, his brows furrowed in a scowl. Hance burst up from the bench quicker than corn popping in an oiled pot.

“Jericho, you stop being a bully!” Ivy reached for Hance’s hand again. She couldn’t help it. Something inside was driving her to irritate Jericho. Maybe she wanted to believe he was jealous, wanted to make him realize what he was missing. But she’d learned long ago such efforts were in vain. Even if in the short term he acted concerned, that’s as far as his bluster ever went.

“I think Hance was just leaving. Weren’t you, Hance?” Jericho’s question left little room for argument.

Hance opened his mouth to respond, but she beat him to it. “I reckon Hance is welcome to stay at least until Greta calls us in for supper. In fact, been thinking maybe I’ll invite Hance to eat with us.” That was a lie. She hadn’t considered inviting him for supper even once. But with the way Jericho was bossing her around, she relished making him as prickly as a cactus.