Chapter 10: Robyn

After we finish the dishes, Micah disappears into his ginormous closet. When he’s been in there a while, rattling around, my curiosity gets the best of me and I go see what he’s up to.

I find him standing in front of a large metal cabinet, the doors wide open. “What are you doing?”

He glances back at me. “I’m deciding on a gun for you. You need something that’s relatively small and easy to shoot, but also effective.”

I walk into the room and stare at the contents of his arsenal. There are three long guns in different styles. For the life of me, I couldn’t say what they are. One of them is black and looks very military. Another one is long with a wooden handle. That looks more like an old-fashioned hunting rifle. There are also half a dozen black handguns in various sizes.

He picks up a small one and weighs it in his hand. “I think this is your best bet. It’s a nine millimeter, but the recoil isn’t too bad.”

Just looking at the gun in his hands gives me the heebie-jeebies. “Micah.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve never even touched a gun before. I don’t think it’s safe.”

He looks thoughtful. “Okay. I hear you. How about a compromise? Will you let me teach you how to handle a gun? Flip the safety on and off and load the magazine? Let’s start with the basics and see where we go from there.”

I shrug. “I guess so.” But I don’t think he’ll be happy with me just holding it. He wants to turn me into a modern-day Annie Oakley. “I’m not Annie Oakley, you know.”

He chuckles. “How in the world do you know who Annie Oakley is?"

“I loved watching old westerns with my dad.”

“For starters, no, I don’t expect you to become Annie Oakley. But I also don’t want you to be helpless when it comes to guns. Sometimes a gun is the only thing standing between you and something bad.”

“When Ricky pointed a gun in my face, I froze.”

“This is why I want you to get familiar with them. So you don’t freeze. Let’s just see how it goes, okay?”

“Fine. But will you promise, if I hate it, you won’t ask me to do it again?”

He hesitates. “If you absolutely hate it, then okay. But, Robyn?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t ever want you to be in a dangerous situation, but it would be foolish to assume it can’t happen. I mean, right this minute, Verne could have a team sneaking up on this cabin. And if they come, they’re going to be armed.”

“If that’s the case, and I’m here alone, I’m toast.”

“But if you let them know you’re armed—you could just fire a warning shot—it’ll slow them down a bit, long enough for you to call for help. They don’t know you’re not Annie Oakley.”

“So, I’m back to bluffing.”

He shrugs. “It’s better than nothing.”

“All right. One lesson.”

Micah grabs a box of ammunition and the small black handgun he chose for me and closes the cabinet. “The combination for the gun cabinet is the same code I use for the security system in the shop—1208. Remember that.”

Micah sits me down at the kitchen table and lays out the gun and the bullets. He starts by teaching me the name of the parts of the gun—muzzle, chamber, slide, frame, sight, magazine, safety.

Then he lays out ten bullets on the table. “The bullets go into the magazine,” he says, showing me that it’s currently empty. He uses his thumb to press one bullet into the magazine, then another. And then he hands the magazine to me. “You load the rest.”

I feel like I’m all thumbs as I try to hold the magazine in my left hand and pick up a bullet with my right. I try to insert a bullet, but it doesn’t go in easily.

“Put some muscle into it,” he says. “Don’t worry. You’re not going to break it.”

I push harder, and the first bullet clicks in.

“Good. Now do the rest.”

It’s easier said than done. By the time I insert the last one, my fingers are sore. “That’s harder than it looks.”

Micah grins. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I hope not. You said I wouldn’t have to do it again if I hate this.”

He nods. “That’s right, I did. But don’t jump to conclusions prematurely. Give it a chance.” He takes the magazine from me and shoves it into the handle of the gun. It snaps in with a nice clicking sound. “Note the safety is on,” he says, pointing to the little safety lever on the side. “The gun will not fire if the safety is on.”

“Got it.”

He pops the magazine out and hands me both pieces. “Now you do it.”

Rolling my eyes, I shove the magazine into the gun handle.

“The first two rules in handling a gun are critical,” he says. “One, always keep the safety on unless you’re ready to shoot something.”

“Okay.”

“And two, never point the gun at anyone you don’t want to shoot.”

I chuckle nervously. “That’s a good rule. What’s number three? I’m assuming there’s a third rule.”

The corners of his lips twitch. “If you shoot, shoot to kill. Aim for your biggest target, which is generally the torso. If you shoot to maim—like aiming for a leg or an arm—you’re probably going to end up dead. So, go for the torso. And fire more than once. Three shots would give you a better chance at eliminating a threat. Got it?”

I stare at him like he’s nuts. If he thinks I could actually shoot someone, he’s crazy.

“Robyn? Got it?”

“Sure, Micah. I got it.” I don’t, but hopefully this will shut him up on the subject.

“It’s getting late,” he says as he starts to collect all the gun paraphernalia. “How about next time we go outside and shoot some paper targets?”

He’s not going to give up. I want to say no, and make him honor his promise to give up on the idea, but he looks so proud of himself, I don’t have the heart. “All right, fine. If you insist.”

“Great. Now, let’s go watch your show. I’ll make us some popcorn.”