CALIBER DETECTIVE AGENCY – CASE FILE #1
T exas 1875
Gunther Heimlich saw the figure coming over the rise and squinted in an effort to identify it as either friend or foe. In the distance, a column of smoke rose up toward the sun.
As the figure grew closer, Gunther’s wife and daughter emerged from the covered wagon behind him.
“Who is that, papa?” Eva Heimlich said. She was eleven-years-old with blond hair and large blue eyes.
“I don’t know, dear,” Gunther said. They were speaking in German.
Gunther’s wife, Kara, pointed. “He has a weapon in his hand, a pistol,”
Gunther leaned over and whispered in his wife’s ear.
“Take Eva and get back in the wagon while I go and talk to this man. If... if something happens, just keep following the river, Fort Worth is only a few hours from here.”
Kara touched him on the cheek. “Be careful.”
“Ja, I will be.” Gunther said, as he gripped the gun hanging off his hip.
Gunther walked across the hilly terrain and as he got closer to the shuffling figure, he was surprised to see that it was just a boy.
The boy was twelve, but tall for his age, he wore a pair of blue hickory trousers with calf high boots and his red flannel shirt was ripped in front, and also blackened from smoke. He was a handsome boy, and big for his age, with dark brown hair and ice blue eyes, eyes that looked older than his years.
As Gunther grew closer, he could hear the boy speaking, in English.
“Eight, eight, eight, eight...”
Gunther’s English was not good, but he attempted to communicate.
“Hello, I be Gunther, who be you?”
“Eight, eight, eight, eight, eight...”
Gunther started to speak again, but stopped when he heard the footfalls behind him. It was Kara and Eva coming out to join him.
“I told you to stay with the wagon.”
“I know.” Kara said. “But as he got closer, I could see that he was just a lad.”
“A lad with a weapon,” Gunther said, as the strange boy continued his chant.
“Eight, eight, eight, eight...”
“What is he saying?” Kara said.
“He’s counting.” Eva said. “He keeps repeating the number eight.”
Gunther reached over slowly and placed a hand on the boy’s weapon.
“Can I take a looking at you gun?”
The boy offered no resistance and Gunther slipped the gun free. It was a large weapon and unlike any that Gunther had ever seen. His eyes widened when he realized that the revolver could hold up to a dozen rounds, although only a few of its cylinders were still loaded. On the left side of the gun, near the trigger guard, was an engraved English word that was nearly worn away.
“Cal-lee-ber, is that your family name son, Caliber?” Gunther said, partly in German, however the boy must have taken his meaning, because he stopped his chant of “eight” and answered him.
“Steele,”
Gunther shook his head emphatically as he handed the boy back his gun.
“No, I no steal, just looking,”
The boy took the gun back and shrugged as if a name were of little value.
A horse neighed and a shadow appeared behind them, then, to their left and right, as three Apache warriors closed in. All three had Winchester rifles aimed at the boy. Before Gunther could even place his hand on his gun, the boy began shooting.
The Apache at the rear took the first bullet, followed by the one on the left, and then the one on the right. All three shots were dead center between the eyes and all three took less than a second.
“Gott in himmel!” Gunther cried, while marveling at the boy’s speed, which was only eclipsed by his aim.
As the now riderless horses galloped off, the boy gazed around, and then spoke.
“Nine, ten, eleven, eleven, eleven, eleven...”
A moment later, there came the sound of approaching hooves, as four Calvary officers rode in from the same direction that the boy had traveled.
Their leader was a Captain Higgins, after introductions, Higgins walked around and stared at the dead men.
Higgins spoke to
T exas 1875
Gunther Heimlich saw the figure coming over the rise and squinted in an effort to identify it as either friend or foe. In the distance, a column of smoke rose up toward the sun.
As the figure grew closer, Gunther’s wife and daughter emerged from the covered wagon behind him.
“Who is that, papa?” Eva Heimlich said. She was eleven-years-old with blond hair and large blue eyes.
“I don’t know, dear,” Gunther said. They were speaking in German.
Gunther’s wife, Kara, pointed. “He has a weapon in his hand, a pistol,”
Gunther leaned over and whispered in his wife’s ear.
“Take Eva and get back in the wagon while I go and talk to this man. If... if something happens, just keep following the river, Fort Worth is only a few hours from here.”
Kara touched him on the cheek. “Be careful.”
“Ja, I will be.” Gunther said, as he gripped the gun hanging off his hip.
Gunther walked across the hilly terrain and as he got closer to the shuffling figure, he was surprised to see that it was just a boy.
The boy was twelve, but tall for his age, he wore a pair of blue hickory trousers with calf high boots and his red flannel shirt was ripped in front, and also blackened from smoke. He was a handsome boy, and big for his age, with dark brown hair and ice blue eyes, eyes that looked older than his years.
As Gunther grew closer, he could hear the boy speaking, in English.
“Eight, eight, eight, eight...”
Gunther’s English was not good, but he attempted to communicate.
“Hello, I be Gunther, who be you?”
“Eight, eight, eight, eight, eight...”
Gunther started to speak again, but stopped when he heard the footfalls behind him. It was Kara and Eva coming out to join him.
“I told you to stay with the wagon.”
“I know.” Kara said. “But as he got closer, I could see that he was just a lad.”
“A lad with a weapon,” Gunther said, as the strange boy continued his chant.
“Eight, eight, eight, eight...”
“What is he saying?” Kara said.
“He’s counting.” Eva said. “He keeps repeating the number eight.”
Gunther reached over slowly and placed a hand on the boy’s weapon.
“Can I take a looking at you gun?”
The boy offered no resistance and Gunther slipped the gun free. It was a large weapon and unlike any that Gunther had ever seen. His eyes widened when he realized that the revolver could hold up to a dozen rounds, although only a few of its cylinders were still loaded. On the left side of the gun, near the trigger guard, was an engraved English word that was nearly worn away.
“Cal-lee-ber, is that your family name son, Caliber?” Gunther said, partly in German, however the boy must have taken his meaning, because he stopped his chant of “eight” and answered him.
“Steele,”
Gunther shook his head emphatically as he handed the boy back his gun.
“No, I no steal, just looking,”
The boy took the gun back and shrugged as if a name were of little value.
A horse neighed and a shadow appeared behind them, then, to their left and right, as three Apache warriors closed in. All three had Winchester rifles aimed at the boy. Before Gunther could even place his hand on his gun, the boy began shooting.
The Apache at the rear took the first bullet, followed by the one on the left, and then the one on the right. All three shots were dead center between the eyes and all three took less than a second.
“Gott in himmel!” Gunther cried, while marveling at the boy’s speed, which was only eclipsed by his aim.
As the now riderless horses galloped off, the boy gazed around, and then spoke.
“Nine, ten, eleven, eleven, eleven, eleven...”
A moment later, there came the sound of approaching hooves, as four Calvary officers rode in from the same direction that the boy had traveled.
Their leader was a Captain Higgins, after introductions, Higgins walked around and stared at the dead men.
Higgins spoke to
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