Part 31 (1/2)

Some calculating showed me I was no more than about two when Hickok died.

”I'm a spot older than I look,” I told Emmet.

That got him to laugh.

”Who really showed you?” he asked.

”No one but you, actually. I never in my life fired a shot until this very day when that fellow stuck his arm out the train window.”

He gave me a puzzled look. There was some wariness to it, but not much anger.

”I'm not having you on,” I said. ”Believe me. If I'd known what I was about, I most certainly wouldn't have humiliated myself in the matter of loading bullets.”

He took to smiling again when I reminded him of that. ”Land, I've never seen such a thing.”

”I suppose you'll tell everyone.”

”It's just a shame they wasn't there to see it for themselves.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE.

My First Night in the Outlaw Camp Back at the camp, a big pot of stew was bubbling on the fire. The smell set my mouth to watering.

McSween was busy stirring the mixture, Chase bringing in some more firewood, Snooker cleaning his Winchester, Breakenridge resting on the ground with his back propped up by his saddle, busy at nothing.

”How'd it go?” McSween asked.

”Well,” Emmet said, ”we had us quite a time.”

”Glad to see n.o.body's wounded,” McSween said.

”You all sure missed a show,” Emmet announced.

With everybody looking on, he drew one of his Colts and plucked a cartridge from his gunbelt. ”This right here's how w.i.l.l.y went to load up,” he said. Holding the pistol in front of his face, frowning and sticking his tongue out a corner of his mouth as if he were trying very hard to think, he poked his bullet into the muzzle. ”I say,” he said, mimicking the way I talk, ”isn't this how it goes, really?”

”No!” Snooker squealed. ”Did he?”

Well, I hadn't and Emmet knew it. But I judged he might like me more if I didn't spoil his fun.

”Sure as I'm standing here.”

Snooker and Breakenridge, they both whooped it up considerable. Emmet, too, though not as hard as he'd done in the first place. ”Yep!” he went on. ”Just what he did!” Chase didn't laugh, but sort of grinned with one corner of his mouth and shook his head at me.

McSween glanced my way, then looked around at the others. He didn't seem amused, but rubbed his whiskery cheek. ”Well,” he said, ”no call to make sport of the lad. He didn't know no better.”

”It just beats all!” Snooker blurted.

”Well, that's what I I reckoned,” Emmet said, calming down some. ”But then he figured out where the bullets go, so I picked myself up off the ground and watched him try to shoot.” reckoned,” Emmet said, calming down some. ”But then he figured out where the bullets go, so I picked myself up off the ground and watched him try to shoot.”

”Hope you took cover,” Snooker said.

Emmet gave my arm a squeeze. ”Show 'em, w.i.l.l.y.” With the pistol in his other hand, he pointed to a tree off beyond the campsite. ”See if you can put one in there.”

”Don't plug the horses,” Snooker said.

The horses, they were way off to the other side, and not in any danger at all no matter how bad a shot I might be, unless I turned halfway around.

But I didn't figure I was was a bad shot. Quite the contrary. I was feeling just brimful of talent. a bad shot. Quite the contrary. I was feeling just brimful of talent.

”Hold on, there,” Breakenridge said. He wanted to be standing up so he wouldn't miss the fun.

While he got to his feet, Snooker made quite a show of scampering around behind me. ”Think I'm safe here?” he asked.

”Quit your funnin' the lad,” McSween told him. He unsquatted and turned to watch me.

They all all watched me. watched me.

”Are we quite ready?” I asked.

”Just take her easy,” McSween said. ”Spite of what Emmet likely told you, quickest draw in the world don't matter worth a hill of beans if you miss what you're aiming at.”

”Don't blow your toes off,” Snooker warned.

I pulled and fired. Bark jumped off the tree trunk.

The laughing stopped.

”I'll be,” McSween muttered. ”That's some mighty fair work, w.i.l.l.y.”

Emmet said, ”I learned him real good, huh boys?”

”Where'd you learn to shoot like that?” Chase asked me.

”Over by the creek.”

”He claims he never fired a gun till today,” Emmet explained.

”That the honest truth?” Chase asked.

”Yes, sir,” I said.

”Jesus wept,” Breakenridge said.

”Just don't let it swell your head up,” McSween told me. ”There's a whole lot more to life than being handy with a six-gun. Not that it don't help. But it can get you into sc.r.a.pes if you don't watch yourself careful.”

”McSween knows plenty about sc.r.a.pes,” Chase said, and sounded serious.