Chapter 8 - The Old Rifle
Daniel released Garrett only after facility staff arrived.
Garrett remained on his knees for another second, rubbing his wrist and staring at the floor. The security guard apologized quietly for the gate incident. The sponsor with the strobe disappeared before anyone asked for his name.
Sarah began wrapping the rifle.
Garrett stood slowly.
“You could have told me.”
Sarah looked at him.
“You could have behaved properly without knowing.”
That landed harder than the public humiliation.
Daniel smiled faintly.
Garrett did not.
Apex Ridge’s manager approached Sarah and offered free lifetime membership. She declined.
He offered to replace the rifle stock.
She declined that too.
“The tape works.”
The crowd gradually dispersed, but several people stayed near the deck. Not for autographs. Sarah would have left if they asked for those.
They wanted to know how she had read the wind.
She looked toward the empty target mount.
“The valley changes before the flags do.”
One younger shooter asked, “How can you tell?”
“Stop watching the equipment and start watching everything else.”
Daniel laughed under his breath.
The lesson sounded familiar.
Before leaving, Sarah found Garrett standing beside his expensive rifle case.
He looked smaller without the sponsors around him.
“My father never mentioned your scar,” he said.
“He respected my privacy.”
“He said his instructor saved his career.”
Sarah picked up the wrapped Remington.
“He almost lost it because he thought talent made him unteachable.”
Garrett looked away.
“Was that supposed to be about me?”
“No.”
Sarah headed toward the parking lot.
“It was about him.”
Garrett understood anyway.
Her truck started on the second attempt. The old engine coughed, then settled into a rough idle. Daniel stood beside the gate and raised one hand as she drove out.
The rifle remained in the passenger seat, wrapped in burlap.
The duct tape stayed exactly where it was.
Sarah had not come to Apex Ridge to reveal a secret, collect money, or humiliate a ranked shooter. She had come for quiet and three clean rounds.
She got the rounds.
The quiet would have to wait.
Behind her, staff rehung the steel plate with a new chain. Garrett watched them from a distance, no longer surrounded by laughter.
The old veteran’s final words remained with him.
Show some respect.
Not because Sarah had once held a title.
Not because she had trained famous men.
May you like
Not because she had put three bullets through a distant chain.
Because respect should never have required a secret.
