grinning. "Buck and Ben! How in tarnation did you two find me?"
Buck Barron grinned. "We was wonderin' what happened to you. We come to town and had a mite of a ruckus with the Hickmans. What was left of them headed for El Paso in a mighty hurry-both of 'em.
"Then an Injun kid come ridin' up on a beat-up hors and said you all was in a sight of trouble, so we figgered we'd come along and see how you made out."
"An Injun?" Dusty was puzzled.
"Yeah," Riddle told him, "that was my doin'. I figgered you was headed for trouble, so I sent an Injun kid off after your brothers. Heck, if I'd knowed what you was like with a six-gun, I'd never have sent for 'em!"
Ben Barron grinned and rubbed at his stubble of whiskers. "An' if we'd knowed there was on'y three, we'd never have come!" He looked from Dusty to Ruth. "Don't look like you'd be comin' home right soon with that place at Gallo Gap an' what you've got your arm around. But what'll we tell Allie?"
"Allie?" Ruth drew away from him, eyes wide. "Who's Allie? You didn't tell me you had a girl!"
Dusty winked at his brothers. "Allie? She's war chief of the Barron tribe! Allie's my ma!"
He turned to Riddle. "Blue, how's about you sort of keepin' an eye on that gap place for me for a week or so? I reckon I'd better take Ruth home for a spell. Allie, she sure sets a sight of store by weddin's!"
Ruth's answering pressure on his arm was all the answer he needed.
AUTHOR'S NOTE Mistakes Can Kill You The guns of the West were many, most of them manufactured in this country, some imported from abroad. To many Westerners any rifle was a Winchester, any pistol a Colt. Both brands were so common that they were accepted names for the type of weapon in question, just as today to many people any camera is a Kodak. Guns were in great demand, so many manufacturers opened their shops. Some lasted for years, some only for months.
Pistols were made with multiple barrels, with two cylinders, with knives attached, with knuckle dusters (so called brass knuckles), with about every kind of contrivance one can imagine.
The Walch twelve-shot pistol mentioned in this story was also made in a ten-shot version. Their manufacture began in the winter of 1859-60.
Their size and weight were approximately that of other pistols of the time, and a casual glance would discern no differences.
Among the most-used pistols on the frontier were various versions of the Remington, but there were also Sharps, Marlin, and Stevens pistols, as well as J. B. Driscoll, Forehand & Wadsworth, Lindsay, Marston, Starr, Merwin Hulbert, and dozens of others, including the Charles Sneider two-cylinder revolver, carrying fourteen shots.
On the frontier, mistakes could kill you, and it did not pay to take anything for granted.
Dutchmans Flat (ss) (1986)
*
MISTAKES CAN KILL YOU .
Ma Redlin looked up from the stove. "Where's Sam? He still out yonder?"
Johnny rubbed his palms on his chaps. "He ain't comin' to supper, Ma. He done rode off."
Pa and Else were watching him, and Johnny saw the hard lines of temper around Pa's mouth and eyes. Ma glanced at him apprehensively, but when Pa did not speak, she looked to her cooking. Johnny walked around the table and sat down across from Else.
When Pa reached for the coffeepot he looked over at Johnny. "Was he alone, boy? Or did he ride off with that no-account Albie Bower?"
It was in Johnny neither to lie nor to carry tales. Reluctantly, he replied. "He was with somebody. I reckon I couldn't be sure who it was."
Redlin snorted and put down his cup. It was a sore point with Joe Redlin that his son and only child should take up with the likes of Albie Bower. Back in Pennsylvania and Ohio the Redlins had been good God-fearing folk, while Bower was no good, and came from a no-good outfit. Lately, he had been flashing money around, but he claimed to have won it gambling at Degner's Four Star Saloon.
"Once more I'll tell him," Redlin said harshly. "I'll have no son of mine traipsin' with
Buck Barron grinned. "We was wonderin' what happened to you. We come to town and had a mite of a ruckus with the Hickmans. What was left of them headed for El Paso in a mighty hurry-both of 'em.
"Then an Injun kid come ridin' up on a beat-up hors and said you all was in a sight of trouble, so we figgered we'd come along and see how you made out."
"An Injun?" Dusty was puzzled.
"Yeah," Riddle told him, "that was my doin'. I figgered you was headed for trouble, so I sent an Injun kid off after your brothers. Heck, if I'd knowed what you was like with a six-gun, I'd never have sent for 'em!"
Ben Barron grinned and rubbed at his stubble of whiskers. "An' if we'd knowed there was on'y three, we'd never have come!" He looked from Dusty to Ruth. "Don't look like you'd be comin' home right soon with that place at Gallo Gap an' what you've got your arm around. But what'll we tell Allie?"
"Allie?" Ruth drew away from him, eyes wide. "Who's Allie? You didn't tell me you had a girl!"
Dusty winked at his brothers. "Allie? She's war chief of the Barron tribe! Allie's my ma!"
He turned to Riddle. "Blue, how's about you sort of keepin' an eye on that gap place for me for a week or so? I reckon I'd better take Ruth home for a spell. Allie, she sure sets a sight of store by weddin's!"
Ruth's answering pressure on his arm was all the answer he needed.
AUTHOR'S NOTE Mistakes Can Kill You The guns of the West were many, most of them manufactured in this country, some imported from abroad. To many Westerners any rifle was a Winchester, any pistol a Colt. Both brands were so common that they were accepted names for the type of weapon in question, just as today to many people any camera is a Kodak. Guns were in great demand, so many manufacturers opened their shops. Some lasted for years, some only for months.
Pistols were made with multiple barrels, with two cylinders, with knives attached, with knuckle dusters (so called brass knuckles), with about every kind of contrivance one can imagine.
The Walch twelve-shot pistol mentioned in this story was also made in a ten-shot version. Their manufacture began in the winter of 1859-60.
Their size and weight were approximately that of other pistols of the time, and a casual glance would discern no differences.
Among the most-used pistols on the frontier were various versions of the Remington, but there were also Sharps, Marlin, and Stevens pistols, as well as J. B. Driscoll, Forehand & Wadsworth, Lindsay, Marston, Starr, Merwin Hulbert, and dozens of others, including the Charles Sneider two-cylinder revolver, carrying fourteen shots.
On the frontier, mistakes could kill you, and it did not pay to take anything for granted.
Dutchmans Flat (ss) (1986)
*
MISTAKES CAN KILL YOU .
Ma Redlin looked up from the stove. "Where's Sam? He still out yonder?"
Johnny rubbed his palms on his chaps. "He ain't comin' to supper, Ma. He done rode off."
Pa and Else were watching him, and Johnny saw the hard lines of temper around Pa's mouth and eyes. Ma glanced at him apprehensively, but when Pa did not speak, she looked to her cooking. Johnny walked around the table and sat down across from Else.
When Pa reached for the coffeepot he looked over at Johnny. "Was he alone, boy? Or did he ride off with that no-account Albie Bower?"
It was in Johnny neither to lie nor to carry tales. Reluctantly, he replied. "He was with somebody. I reckon I couldn't be sure who it was."
Redlin snorted and put down his cup. It was a sore point with Joe Redlin that his son and only child should take up with the likes of Albie Bower. Back in Pennsylvania and Ohio the Redlins had been good God-fearing folk, while Bower was no good, and came from a no-good outfit. Lately, he had been flashing money around, but he claimed to have won it gambling at Degner's Four Star Saloon.
"Once more I'll tell him," Redlin said harshly. "I'll have no son of mine traipsin' with
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