Paradise Sky

We was given a half-hour break, and during that time I asked Cullen to go saddle up Satan and bring him around. The last round was the horse ride, shooting at targets on sticks on either side of the street. This meant the path was cleared to the sides, and the targets was set solidly.

Cullen collected Satan and saddled him, without saddlebags or any u

Then came that redheaded boy leading Bronco Bob’s horse, a big white stallion that might not have been a great long ru

Me and Bronco Bob shook hands and wished each other luck, which was lies through our teeth. He gave his rifle to the boy, and I gave mine to Cullen. I checked my pistols and their loads. For the time being, Bronco Bob held pat, left his in the holsters. When we was satisfied, we mounted up. The crowd split, and chairs was moved farther apart so we could ride two abreast. As we rode up to the starting line, I passed Ruggert and looked down on him. He glared up at me, then spat on the ground, then stared at me again. The glare in his eyes was the same as that day I saw his wife’s ass, and now here I was, a colored man riding on a big horse well above his white head; it was almost more than he could stand. For a moment I thought he might pull a gun from under his coat and go at me. I know I wanted to shoot him. Instead I tipped my hat to him as I rode by.

22

Me and Bronco Bob took our places side by side.

Chauncey had come along the street to be in front of us. He said, “Bronco, you will shoot to your right, and you colored fellow will shoot to your left.”

“Nat,” said Bronco Bob to Chauncey. “His name is Nat.”

This from the man who couldn’t remember the name of the boy he’d hired to tote his weapons.

“What?” said Chauncey.

“His name isn’t Colored Fellow, it’s Nat. And he is on top bill with me. We are the only ones left, and we have both earned our position, and he deserves the respect of his name. His name is Nat. I’d like to hear you say it.”

Chauncey nodded, not wishing to bother a man with a loaded revolver in his hand.

“Nat,” Chauncey said, “you will shoot to your left. And then when you come back riding this way, the arm will reverse. There are six targets on each side. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” we both said, pretty much at the same time. Bronco Bob said, “I have to trade out.” His boy was ru

When he was positioned, Chauncey said, “Riding back, try not to stray your shots and kill nobody. I seen it happen in Abilene once, and that lady wasn’t doing nothing but minding her own business on her porch.”

Chauncey stepped to the side, pulled a red scarf from his coat pocket, said, “Soon as I drop this here rag, you ride, no sauntering. This here is a run. And remember, don’t shoot until you come to your targets.”

This seemed common sense to me, but I guess you can never be too sure. Chauncey lifted his hand with the scarf in it. A tiny wind breezed up, and I took note of which way it was blowing the scarf. It wasn’t in favor for my shots, but I was hoping it wasn’t going to blow any harder than it was and that I could judge it wisely. With my left hand I pulled one of my pistols.

The red scarf dropped.

It was like Satan knew the score. He leaped, all four feet coming off the ground at one time. We had a good plunge on that big white horse and was immediately at a gallop.

The targets was coming up on my left, and if you have never fired pistols from the back of a ru

As I have said, my left hand never gained the currency of my right, but it wasn’t bad, and I had shot from a ru

The shot was good. I hit another square, and then another, kept firing. When I come to the end of the ride and took the reins in my hand again, wheeled Satan about, I had hit all six targets.

And so had Bronco Bob, who came riding in about a horse length behind us, the reins in one hand, the pistol in the other.

“Them leads in your teeth is a good trick,” Bronco Bob said.

“I learned it from a master.”

“That horse runs at the touch of the knees, don’t he?”

“When he ain’t got a mind to do what he wants, he does.”

Measurements was taken to see who was closer to center on the targets, and we both come out so near the same they called it a draw. I looked over at Bronco Bob, and he touched the brim of his hat in salute, and I did the same.

I put my left-hand revolver in its place and pulled the other with my right. I took a deep breath, waited for the signal. Checkers Chauncey had walked down to meet us with the scarf in his hand. He took a position in the middle of us, and then lifted his hand. That scarf seemed to dangle there forever, but the thing I noticed was there was no wind. We would both be at our best situation.

The scarf dropped, and Satan leaped forward before I could spur him, damn near surprising me right off his back. But I managed to keep my place, though I had to shoot too quick. I hit the target, but it was only at the edge. I had to get my mind right for the next target, which was coming up between breaths. I shot five more shots, hit all the targets, and once again me and Satan arrived ahead of Bronco Bob and his mount.

I sat there on the back of Satan, pulling the cotton out of my wind-whipped ears, waiting to hear the word on the measuring of who had the closest shots, and the answer arrived quick.

Bronco Bob had missed two shots.

I was the wi

Bronco Bob strolled over, gri

“Thank you, Bronco,” I said. “But I need you to know I come into this match with a little indigestion.”

Bronco let out a big howl of laughter and commenced to slapping me on the back some more. “You are one hell of a shooter, you are a regular Deadeye Dick. No…Deadwood Dick is better. Yes, sir. When I give up this life for the writing life, which has always been my great love and concern, I will write of this day.”

“In that version will I still win?” I said, and I was smiling big now.

“You will, sir. I am one thing for certain, and that is fair.”

“You are also a damn good shot and a worthy opponent,” I said. “I thought I was whipped there more than once.”

“So did I,” he said, and went to laughing and patting me on the back. Then came Charlie and his bunch, and finally down from the hill came Win and Madame and Cullen and Wow, and all them Chinese gals whose names I never could get right, having the same problem as Cullen.

I checked around for Ruggert and his men. I saw Ruggert slowly rise from his chair and walk into the crowd along with his compadres.