by S. A. Glenn
“Boy, you best not be lyin’ to me—or I’ll shoot you DEAD! You hear me?!” He poked Samuel in his ribs with his gun.
“You can check my pockets, if you like…”
“Don’t you be tryin’ nothing fancy with me.” He held his gun with a shaky hand inches away from Samuel’s chest, searching hard through his pockets.
“See, I told you, mister. That’s all I got.”
“Now, take off your boots. Some folks like hiding their means there. Come on, boy! I ain’t got all day!”
Samuel stood stiff. He stalled for a miracle, and realized his life was in danger, once more. He broke into a cold sweat with no choice but to do as told. “Yes, sir.” Samuel leaned against the hard, cold bridge and removed one boot.
“Let me see it!” he demanded, snatching it out of Samuel’s grasp. He shoved his hand inside and felt around. “Nothin’!” He tossed the boot at the ground. “Now, the other one. Come on… hurry up! You’re makin’ me nervous.”
Samuel gulped hard, brought his foot up, slowly slid off his other boot and handed it to the man—then from around the corner came a speeding stagecoach. It spooked the man. He jumped back onto his horse and galloped across the passageway, then off the trail back from where he came.
Samuel hurried his boots onto his cold feet and jumped out of the way, nearly being trampled by the hustling horses. He ran to his horse that stood in the distance and rode it home as fast as his healthy steed would take him. Soon before nightfall he arrived home and raced into the barn. Making his way to the house he entered the back door then headed into the kitchen.
Katherine stood at the stove cooking dinner. She turned to greet him with a loving smile. Seeing his baffling expression of euphoria tainted with terror, her face froze with worry. He took hold of her and hugged her like he hadn’t seen her in years. “What’s going on, Samuel?” she questioned, not able to pry herself away from him.
“I love you so much, Kat. I’m so glad to see you! I didn’t think I’d ever see you again!”
“You’re scaring me, Samuel.”
“Come, sit down.” He led her by the hand to the table.
“Why’re you acting like this, Samuel? Tell me, please!” she insisted as she sat.
Taking her hands, he gazed deep into her concerned eyes. “You know I despise anything used to harm another person, right, Kat?”
“Yes!”
“I’m so damned confused!” he stated with ire, frowning, pacing slow back and forth as he stared at the polished redwood flooring, deep in thought.
“I know when you cuss, Sam, that you’re determined to do something impetuous—and I aim to find out what it is, and why.” She stood and put herself in his path. “What the hell are you talking about, Samuel? Come out and say it already!” she demanded.
“I got robbed, Katherine! I got robbed!”
“Saaamuuueeel! Were you hurt?”
“Nah. But I realized when he pointed the gun at me how quick everything could be gone—then I thought about someone breaking in here with a gun! How would I defend you, Kat? How… ?”
“I don’t know, Sam.”
“We need protection!”
“Are you saying that we need a gun? Is that it?”
“Guns, Kat! We each need our own.”
“But somebody stole our extra money.”
“Not all of it,” he said with a grin. He pulled off his boot and took out the ten dollar bill. “I hid it. He almost got it, but a stagecoach chased him away. I’m lucky that it came because I told him that all I had was the dollar-twenty I gave him—but he insisted I had more. He told me that if I was lying he’d shoot me DEAD!”
“Damn it, Samuel! Why were you playing with your life like that?”
He knew she meant business when she cussed. “I’m sorry, Kat. I didn’t think—”
“Exactly!” she interrupted him. “You didn’t think! Do not ever gamble with your life like that again. Do you understand me, Samuel Lee Simms?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, realizing the trouble he was in by having his full name used.
“Good! Now, back to having guns. Are you sure that’s what you want?”
He shook his head no but answered yes.
“You don’t seem very convinced to me, Sam. Maybe we should talk about this more before—”
“No!” he broke in. “My mind’s made up. I’m getting what we need to keep ourselves safe!”
“Very well. Do you know what kind you want?”
“Haven’t thought about it. Not sure what to get. Don’t know nothing about guns, anyway.”
“Maybe Fréderic can help us. He collects them. After church tomorrow we could talk with him, see what he has to say. Whaddaya think, Sam?”
He pondered for a moment then nodded his head. “I reckon that would be a good start, Kat. We’ll talk to him tomorrow.”
He lay in bed, eerie sounds within the house made themselves known. Samuel wondered if what he heard was the house settling. Or maybe it was a bank robber who broke in for a place to hide. And if the marshal found out the thief was here, there would be a shoot-out, and bullets would fly and probably kill him and Katherine. But it could also be some sort of monster, a monster with glowing red eyes and fangs that dripped acid. And when it bit you, you would scream in agony and die a slow, painful death as your blood turned solid. Samuel twitched at every creak and thump he heard. Some of the noises sounded like a crazed animal with long, sharp infectious claws that scraped the walls within the dark, vulnerable house.
The day’s dreadful event crept through his nervous mind. He managed to grab a long hard stick. But if he fell asleep, how would he, how could he, defend Katherine and himself? With his weapon at his side, in the bed next to him above the covers, he listened, he watched, he waited for the “something” to open the bedroom door, the door that creaked when it brought into view what waited patiently behind it.
“‘And he that killeth a beast, he shall restore it: and he that killeth a man, he shall be put to death,’” Reverend Papanikolaou quoted from the bible.
Samuel’s arm shot up.
“Yes, Samuel. You have a question, my son?”
“Yes, Papa. I’m just wondering if a man threatens another man’s life, is the second man going to hell if he defends himself by shooting and killing him.”
“That is a difficult question, Samuel—” the reverend flipped through the good book—” Matthew 5, verse 39: And Jesus said: ‘but I say onto you, that ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the other also’.
“Now, everyone, turn to Matthew 10, verse 39: And Jesus said: ‘He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it’. So what I believe this entire means is, do not be concerned with your life, but with what is righteous.
“Now there have been wars fought in the name of God. Each side believed it was on the side of God. Do I believe that all those men killing each other are going to hell? No! The ones fighting for others, I believe are blessed; however, the ones fighting just to kill are condemned.
“If a man defends his own life by killing another man, he may lose his soul to the devil, depending what is in his heart; but, if he kills with purity in his heart when saving another’s life, he may gain his soul to offer to God.
“In the old Testament, Deuteronomy, 3:6, God sent his people to war, commanded them to kill their enemies: all the men, women, and children. But in the New Testament, such as in Corinthians, 10:4, it states how Paul explains that he doesn’t wage war like the world does; that the weapons he fights with are not the weapons of the world; that his weapons have divine powers to demolish strongholds. Preaching the gospel is his weaponry—for it is not the one who commends himself who is approved, but the one whom the Lord com
mends.
“So, to answer your question, Samuel. It is best not to save your life with a gun; but let it be rescued through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Understand?”
“Yes, Papa. Thank you,” he replied, understanding that he didn’t understand, upset about still wanting a gun to protect himself. The concept of speaking words for defense instead of shooting someone had him in conflict; he wondered if God would be mad at him for his feelings. He remembered a story about a priest who preached God’s words as a man repeatedly shot him; and this had Samuel at odds with himself. What was he supposed to do? Most everyone he knew had a gun. Will all these people go to hell if their lives are put on the line, choosing to save themselves? How could so many people be wrong? They were all good folk and would only kill in a dire situation, he thought to himself. He decided to attain the guns. He believed that if he got into a pickle, he could just flash his weapon and scare the assailant away and not have to discharge it. He breathed deep and exhaled with confidence, figuring he had gotten it under control.
After the services Samuel and Katherine met with Louis Pierre, speaking with him outside.
“Monsieur Pierre,” Samuel called out, running toward him with Katherine’s hand in his.
The man stopped, turned, and waited with a smile while they caught up. “Bonsoir,” he offered them.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Pierre,” replied Katherine.
“Your mother told me what took place yesterday, Katherine. I am truly sorry that happened to you, Monsieur Simms. It must have been a trying experience.”
“Yes, sir… it was.”
“What may I do for you two?”
Katherine spoke. “We were wondering if perhaps Fréderic had two guns he would part with. We will pay for them, of course. We want to be able to defend ourselves if needed.”
“I see. And I do not blame you for that. There are a lot of kooks out and about.”
“I felt we should ask for your permission to talk with Fréderic,” she clarified.
“I appreciate your etiquette—that is fine. Let me step over to the landau and hear what Fréderic has to say on this matter.” He led them to his carriage. “Fréderic, my good maître d’ . . . these kind folks have a question for you.”
“Oui, Monsieur Simms, Madam Simms. How may I assist the two of you?”
“I got robbed yesterday, sir. I want to purchase two guns. Do you, by chance, have any you could sell me?”
Fréderic sat motionless with a deadpan face—then a slightly disturbing grin emerged. “Yes… yes, I do.”
“Great!” stated Samuel, rubbing his hands together. “When’s a good time for us to do business?”
“As soon as Monsieur Pierre and I return to the mansion.”
“Now we’re talking! If no one minds, me and Katherine will follow behind you.”
“What a splendid notion!” exclaimed Louis Pierre. “I will have Sara come along. We will make a day out of this, feasting, and firing weapons out on the range.”
Everyone made their way to the Pierre estate. After Fréderic checked everybody’s coats he parted from the guests and headed to the den. He returned to the others in the parlor and held a leather case in his arms. Setting down the case onto an old maple coffee table, he opened the chest with its black velvety lining, revealing two sexy silver six-shooters.
Samuel’s eyes widened, his heart quickened as Fréderic pulled one out and handed it to him. He was nervous since he had never touched a gun.
“It is not loaded, Monsieur Simms,” Fréderic assured him.
“It’s heavier than I thought it would be. How much do you want for these beauties?”
“Nine dollars. I am giving you a good deal.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.” He slid off his boot, dug deep, then pulled out his ten dollar bill, and handed it to Fréderic.
Fréderic accepted the damp note, then sat it next to the case. He pulled out a bundle of bills, slid out a crisp one and handed it to Samuel. “One dollar. Your change, Monsieur Simms.”
“Thank you, sir. Nice doing business with you.”
“And these are on me,” claimed Fréderic. He took out a box from his waistcoat and wore a sly grin upon his usually gloomy face.
“What are they?”
“Bullets, Monsieur Simms. One cannot fire a gun without ammunition!” he sarcastically stated.
“Thank you, again, Fréderic.”
“My pleasure, Monsieur Simms.”
“Wonderful!” expressed Louis Pierre as he stood and reached for Sara’s hand. “We have completed the business, now it is time for pleasure. Fréderic, prepare hors-d’oeurve for us then join us out at the range.”
“Oui, Monsieur Pierre.”
The others fit on their coats, left the warm mansion, and headed out into the brisk, but sunny weather. With everyone’s breath showing they found themselves at the west side of the grounds. Samuel removed his guns from their case and handed Katherine one. He counted out twelve bullets and gave her half. Not knowing how to load the guns he looked to Louis Pierre for help. After Louis filled their chambers, they stood ready to discharge their weapons.
“You go first, Monsieur Simms,” suggested Louis Pierre. “Hold the butt firmly and know that there is going to be a kick. Aim the gun for the bull’s-eye, using the sight… Gently squeeze the trigger.”
He did as instructed; a loud crack followed and made the gun jump back with a lingering cloud of ignited gunpowder. “Oh, gees! That was nifty!” Samuel admitted, the smell of the smoke reminding him of his happy Fourth of July.
“That was loud!” exclaimed Katherine, getting excited for her turn.
“This is scary!” Sara expressed.
“You must try it, ma’am… it’s fun,” Samuel told her.
“No, thank you, Samuel. I don’t like guns.”
“Monsieur Simms, you hit the bull’s-eye,” Louis Pierre told him as he peered through his monocular.
“My turn! My turn!” exploded Katherine with childlike impatience. “Come, Samuel. Show me how it is done.”
He stood behind her, his body pressed up against hers. “Bring up your arms, Kat, and hold them straight out.”
“Like this, Sam?”
“Just like that. Now line up the target, hold the gun steady with both hands. Remember, Kat, there’s a hard kick when it goes off.”
“Got it, Sam.”
“Now stick your finger in the loop, and then gently squeeze the trigger.”
“Okay, I got it.”
“You’re on your own, Kat.” He backed away from her.
“Bang!” cracked the gun.
“Wooo-whhhooo! That was exhilarating!”
Fréderic appeared with savory appetizers and hot tea. His favorite rifle was strapped to his back; his master’s holster and gun were wrapped around his waist. He sat down the provisions, handed his boss the leather case and firearm. Everyone sat and enjoyed the tasteful delights and hot beverage.
As soon as all of them finished eating and warming up with tea, Fréderic and Louis Pierre loaded their weapons, then took in a few practice shots. The rest watched them, seeing how precise they were—especially Fréderic—he hit the bull’s-eye every time, being one hell of a marksman.
CHAPTER 30
SPRING 1872
Spring had sprung once again, giving birth to the new land. Samuel and his wife were outside on a beautiful Saturday morning. Katherine was preparing one of the gardens, planting beets, carrots, cucumbers; jalapenos, radishes, spinach; and tomatoes, red and yellow ones. In the other garden, she planted cantaloupe, strawberries, and watermelon, scattering flower seeds around the edges of them and around the house. Bringing water from the ditch, she watered all that had been sowed.
Samuel and the horse were out tilling the field, having ha
lf an acre to conquer. By the end of the day he had planted wheat and a bit of corn. With the sun getting low and clouds rolling in, he headed back home, hoping it would rain.
Katherine and Samuel sat at the kitchen table, enjoying a wonderfully prepared meal, feasting on beef, baked potatoes, cabbage, and chocolate cream pie. Ruff began growling outside, erupting into full-blown vicious barking. Suspicious of what was transpiring out there, Samuel hurried to his gun then edged out the door into the chilly and windy night. “Ruff! Come here, boy. Whatcha see? What’s out there?”
Ruff whimpered, making his way to Samuel. At Samuels’s side, Ruff once again lashed out, peering into the distance, baring his teeth.
His heart raced as he felt like he may be attacked. A familiar image popped into Samuel’s awakened mind, recapturing the cruel canines at the Pierre estate. He cocked his gun, nervous as he gazed out into the pitch black night, calming Ruff. With his gun pointed where Ruff was casting his sight, Samuel’s trigger finger got itchy up against the metal piece; he prayed for the disturbance to flee. As Ruff relaxed, no longer occupied with worry, he paid attention to his master, lying down to have his belly rubbed. Samuel gave-in to the request, adopting Ruff’s serenity, dismissing any threat. Samuel headed back into the house.
“What was it?” asked Katherine as she sat on the sofa, hiding behind the pillow at her chest.
“I didn’t see anything. I think the wind spooked Ruff.”
“Hmmm. You think it’ll rain?” She sat down the pillow and stood.
He nodded his head. “Oh, yeah. It’s coming.”
“Maybe we should bring him in.”
“No! I want him outside in case there is something or someone out there.”
“I suppose so,” she agreed as she returned to the kitchen, raising her voice. “I’m glad we have guns. I do feel safer, you know. It’s a good thing we have Louis as a friend. It was sure nice of him to—”
His thoughts interposed her message. Her calling him ‘Louis’, along with the horrid sound of Ruff’s loud cries, had sparked his full memory of the night at Louis Pierre’s. “He grabbed your buttocks!” He rushed into the kitchen with ire. “And you liked it! You giggled! What more has he done with you?”
