The Man from Shenandoah by Marsha Ward Page B

Flaherty.

    ~~~

    “Hallelujah, Pa! You got me a gun!” Albert’s voice cracked in his excitement. “You really got me a gun, a humdinger. Thanks, Pa.” The boy lifted the pistol in two hands, sighted down the barrel, then put it back into his holster.

    “Albert, we’re likely to run into some trouble up the road. I expect you to learn to use that pistol, but it’s for protection. I won’t stand for gun play. Don’t forget that!”

    “No, Pa, I surely won’t. Boy, wait until I show this to Andy. His eyes will pop out of his head.”

    Rulon hitched his gun belt to a more comfortable position. “It feels strange, Pa. I’m more at home with a rifle.”

    “Rulon, it’s mighty handy to have a weapon strapped on with enemies coming right at you. Mr. Flaherty spoke of Indian raids in the Territory. If we aim to find your Uncle Jonathan, we’ll need guns at hand, I reckon.” Rod hitched up his own belt.

    James swung into his saddle, and retrieved his pistol as it slipped loose. “Pa, how do I keep the revolver from falling out of the holster when I’m mounting, or jogging loose as I ride?”

    “Look at this thong, here. Loop it over the hammer, and the gun will stay in there real snug. If you expect trouble, just slip off the loop, and you’re ready.”

    James fixed the rawhide thong as Rod had directed, then kneed his horse into the street. He cantered down a block, dodging wagons, then waited for a clear moment and returned at a gallop.

    He pulled up before his father and brother, checked his pistol, and declared, “That works right fine.”

    Rod caught Carl’s arm and spoke confidentially. “I found a preacher, son. He’s willing to speak your wedding words this evening.”

    “That’s good, Pa.”

    “See if you can talk James into marrying Miss Ellen, too.”

    Carl nodded and got on his horse. “Pa, I reckon I’ll ride ahead and give Ida the news. She’ll be happy to hear it.”

    “I’ll go with you,” Rulon volunteered. Rod and the others mounted their horses, and rode out of Kansas town in a cloud of dust.

    As they completed the first mile of their ride back to camp, they heard gunfire and rode forward cautiously. Before them in the road, the big Mexican with the fine clothes trotted his horse in a circle, shooting his gun and laughing, while his two cronies followed him, enclosing three young women, who huddled together in fright.

    Carl and Rulon, ahead of the other men, looked at each other, anger darkening their features.

    “That’s Marie, and Ellen Bates,” Rulon shouted.

    “And Ida Hilbrands,” finished Carl.

    Chapter 7

    Carl spurred his horse into the midst of the rowdies, knocking the guns from the hands of two of them before Rulon arrived. As he whirled Sherando to face the man in the black vest, Carl saw the gun pointed at his chest.

    “Do not be foolish, señor,” Black-Vest warned him. “I shoot very fast, and I do not miss.” He drew back his lips in what passed for a smile, and his teeth, white beneath his moustache, seemed large as headstones.

    The other Owen men arrived, and noting the gun covering Carl, sat their horses in stolid silence, hands held carefully in sight. The two bearded men dismounted and retrieved their pistols, laughing as they brought them to bear on the Owen party. One man stepped backward and tried to caress Marie’s cheek with his free hand. Marie shrank back and cried out.

    Ellen’s eyes went dark and glittering, and she snapped at the big Mexican, “What kind of cowards are you, picking on girls and honest men?”

    Black-Vest’s smile vanished. “Coward! You will see that Berto Acosta is not a coward. I withdraw my gun.” He holstered the weapon and lifted his hands. “Now you see I am no coward. Joven ! You with the quick temper. Let us see if your hand is as quick as your anger.” He motioned to Carl to try to outdraw him.

    Carl shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t beat you. I just got the gun today.”

    “Ah,”