by Pete Thorsen
At that point I knew I was going to die. I would attack the armed man with my bare hands to try and save Beth. I decided as I got slowly off the bike that I would throw the bike at the armed man and that might my give me a very small chance for survival. It wasn’t much but it was all I had.
I was off the bike and just getting a good grip on it so I could toss it when several shots rang out. The armed man fell to the ground and one of the others also. The third man was running away but when another shot sounded he also dropped to the ground.
I turned to find the source of the shooting and saw a policemen approaching. He carrying one of those military looking rifles and apparently he was well versed in its operation. He stopped near Beth and I but his eyes never left those men on the ground.
“If you two are all right you should get on those bikes and get out of here. What are you doing out here without a gun for anyway? It was a miracle that I happened to be walking past on my route.”
“We should be armed?”
“If you want to live I would say you should be armed. Especially with that pretty girl of yours. You are crazy to have her out here. Now get home farm boy before anything else happens to you. You sh……”
Just then one of the guys on the ground moved and the policeman upped the rifle and shot that man again. He then went and kicked the other two apparently to make sure they were dead. He kicked them pretty hard too it seemed. He then just waved us away and we took the hint and left.
We took the most direct route back towards home and rode faster all the way out of the city. We stopped at the edge of town to catch our breath.
“Can you believe what happened?”
“It is hard to imagine that things have gotten so bad there in such a short time. If things are this bad here just think what it must be like in the really big cities!”
“Let’s just get home. I don’t feel very safe here.”
We left again but rode at a more leisurely pace now that we were out of town. We were both happy to get on the dirt rode that led to my house. The ride had given both of us time to think about things. As soon as we put the bike away Beth started the conversation.
“I want to learn to shoot.”
“I suppose I can teach you. But even if you learn how to shoot you realize that shooting a tin can is way different than shooting a man.”
“I am confident that I would not have hesitated to shoot that man today. The way those three were looking at me sent chills up my spine. No, I would have shot them without remorse just like that policeman did.”
“OK. I will teach you what little I know about guns and shooting.”
“I know you have guns you use for hunting but do you have any handguns also?”
“Yes I have several guns including handguns. I will start you out with a rifle first because it will be easier to learn.”
“Can we start now?”
“Do you want to wait and think on this awhile? It seems like I got the feeling from some of the times we talked that you did not really like guns.”
“I have thought about it all the way home. And yes in the past I did not like guns but I have learned that they certainly have a place. I am very glad I learned that lesson without suffering. I want to learn as soon as possible.”
“OK. Lets go. I’ll grab a light rifle and you can start learning today.”
So we went in the house and I grabbed a twenty two caliber rifle and some shells for it. Then we went out back where I had a make shift range that my family had used off and on for as long as I could remember.
The gun was old pump Winchester that my dad had and he used. It still shot just fine after all these years though it had no finish left on it from being carried countless miles on many hunts. I showed Beth how to check if it was unloaded and showed her the sights and how the front sight should appear in the little notch in the rear sight. I let her try and sight the rifle at the target while I adjusted her posture and her head and arms until she was standing correctly and holding the rifle correctly.
I noticed she did not have her finger on the trigger and told her that was proper. Putting your finger on the trigger was the last step after you had seen and identified your target, what was behind your target, and if everything looked good then you put your finger on the trigger just before you took the shot. She naturally asked why she had to look behind the target.
“Because if you miss the bullet will go somewhere behind your target. Even if you hit your target then often the bullet will pass right on through and go someplace behind your target with enough force to kill again.”
I had her work the action on the empty rifle and bring it up to her shoulder and sight it several times until I no longer had to move any part of her body to get her in the correct position. She was ready for the next step.
I showed her how to load the gun and showed her how to always keep the muzzle of the gun pointed away from her. Never point the gun at yourself for any reason even if you are positive that it is unloaded. I also asked that she never point the muzzle at me.
She loaded the rifle and again I had her sight down at the target. Then I had her work the action once to load the chamber so the gun was now live and ready to shoot. She again sighted down at the target and finally pulled the trigger.
I had instructed her to just lightly squeeze the trigger slowly when the sights were aligned where she wanted them. I had her shoot three times then had her lay the gun down and we walked up to the target.
There were three holes that were reasonably close together but well above the bullseye. I could see that she was disappointed and she said so.
“You did very well actually. See how the holes are all close together? That means you were squeezing the trigger just like I told you to do.”
“But why aren’t they in the middle of the target where I was aiming?”
“Well it could be because the sights are off but I know these sights are fine. Commonly when people shoot they don’t have that top of the front sight down tight in that little notch of the rear sight. If more of the front sight is sticking up then the shot will go high. You did very well and now you will just try again.”
She shot another three shots and as I expected the holes were closer together and much closer to the center of the target this time. I had her shoot the rest of the shells that were in the little rifle.
“This is really kinda fun!”
“Yes many people enjoy shooting. Even people who don’t like them.”
“I told you I had changed my mind about guns!”
Then she saw my smile and gave me a hug.
“Thank you for teaching me.”
I went and got a couple of tin cans and had her load the rifle again. Then instead of the target she started shooting the cans and making them roll and jump with each shot. Gradually the cans got farther away but she never shot without one of the cans moving.
“This is even more fun.”
“Are you ready for something bigger?”
“Yes.”
I had her open the action and double check that the gun was indeed empty. I put one shell back in the magazine and showed her how she could open the action and see the one shell before it went into the chamber. And how when she opened it again that shell would fly out and she could then see plainly that no more shells were in the gun. Then we gathered up the gun and remaining ammunition and went back in the house for her next lesson with a bigger gun.
This time it was the old Winchester lever action in 44-40 caliber. I carried the rifle and Beth carried the ammunition out to the old shooting bench. I had her open the action and check if it was loaded and then had her aim with the heavier rifle. I pushed the gun back against her shoulder and told her this one she had to hold tight against her shoulder when she pulled the trigger. I had her work the action a couple times and had her get used to pulling the gun tight when she was aiming. Then she loaded and shot this one.
The first shot seemed to scare her a little bit. It was much l
ouder and while not very powerful the gun did have some recoil. I watched her very closely on the second shot but I saw no flinch. Same with the third shot. We looked at the target and she had done very well. Next she went right to the cans. With the first shot when the big heavy bullet struck the can it went flying until it was out of sight behind some grass. It was same with the second can.
“Will you teach me handguns now?”
“We go in and we will look at the handguns that I have. You will handle all of them and you will see if any of them feel comfortable to you.”
“Why didn’t we do that with the rifles?”
“Because the rifles are different. We could go in now and pull any of my rifles out of the case and you could shoot any of them adequately now that you know the fundamentals. Pistols are not quite like that. There is more of a relationship that you must have with a pistol to be able to shoot it well.
After a lot of experience then some people can shoot almost any handgun well but it is not really that way with a novice. I think you will discover that all on your own after you handle several of them.”
We went back inside and before we looked at the few handguns that I owned we stopped and washed up and then had lunch.
Chapter 7
After lunch Beth wanted to immediately check out the handguns. So we did.
I showed her the ones I had and she carefully handled every one of them. She kept coming back to one though. To be sure she did handle all of them more than once. Then she picked up the one she had kept going back to.
“I like this one the best I think. Did I make a good choice?”
“I don’t particularly like that one.”
Her face fell.
“So I should pick a different one?”
“No you picked right one for you. You did not pick one for me. That is what I was talking about. That one felt better to you didn’t it?”
“Yes, it just feels better somehow.”
“I have shot that one and it is a fine gun but I find that grip is way too small for me. I could see where it might be great for you though.”
“Can I shoot it?”
“Yes you can shoot it.”
The gun she picked was an old Colt Police Positive in thirty eight special caliber. It would likely be a good choice for her. Almost all my guns were old. Most would be what many people would call collector’s items. But all were shooters and would work today just as well as they did fifty or a hundred years ago. The guns did not know or care what year it was. They were all quality firearms and would still be fully functional long after I no longer could say the same about myself.
I grabbed a box of ammunition and a pair of hearing protector muffs and we walked back out to the old shooting bench. I put up a new target when we got out there too. The new target was a scrap piece of cardboard with a dot of black spray paint in the center.
I showed Beth how to open the gun up to swing the cylinder to the side. How to eject the spent ammo and close the gun up again. I showed her how easy it was to end up pointing the gun at her feet or my feet or other parts of her body. How much harder it was to control the muzzle direction which made handguns much more dangerous to handle.
I showed her how the gun could be shot by just pulling the trigger and also could be shot by pulling the hammer back and then pulling the trigger. I had her dry fire the gun both ways to see the big difference in trigger pull. When she asked where the safety was for the pistol I just pointed at her head.
“It has no safety?”
“Many revolvers do not have a safety. This one is safe enough. If you drop it or anything it will not go off. It will only shoot if you pull the trigger. The safety is just keep your finger off the trigger until you are about to shoot.”
I had her hold the gun and sight it just like she had done with the rifles.
“I can’t hold it steady. It keeps moving.”
“That is the way it is with handguns.”
I again had her aim the gun and I started moving parts of her body until she was in a good shooting stance. I again had her set the gun down and pick it up and assume the shooting stance. Again I moved parts of her until she was in a good stance. We did this again several times until she found the correct stance all by herself.
Next I had her put on the ear muffs and then load the gun. She got into a good shooting form, aimed, and shot the gun. I watched the pistol jump in her hand. She got a determined look on her face and shot the gun two times then carefully laid the gun down on the bench pointing away from both of us. Then we walked up and looked at her target. There were three holes with a fair space between them.
“That is excellent for a first time.”
“But look how far apart they are!”
I marked the three holes by sticking a piece of grass in each one so we could distinguish the first three from the next three. We walked back and she again shot three shots before ejecting the empty shells and then laying the gun down again. We looked and this set of three holes was closer together. Beth smiled.
She shot the remainder of the partial box of ammunition that I had brought out with us. Before she shot it all she asked me if I had more. Only when I said yes did she shoot all of what was in that box.
We went back in the house and I showed Beth how to clean all the guns. I also briefly showed her the remaining guns and how they functioned.
“Do you have a holster for my pistol?”
“Your pistol?”
“Yes. Do you have a holster for it?”
“Yes, I think I have a couple that will work for that one. Let’s take a look.”
I rummaged around in the drawer that contained several holsters. I pulled out four that I thought might work for the small gun. One was too big and I put it back in the drawer. The others would work. She looked them over and tried the gun in each and finally picked one of them.
“I am going to carry this all the time now.”
“After what we saw today that is likely a very good idea. Even though we are in the country we are still only a very short distance from the city. That quarter of a million people in the city might just spread out some and could easily engulf us out here. I guess I will start packing a gun too. I felt so totally helpless today. I will not put myself in that position again.”
I picked up one of the holsters and threaded it on my belt. Then I took the revolver that the holster was designed for and dropped it in the holster. We went over to another cabinet and I took out a box of ammunition for each of our revolvers. We each turned in opposite directions and loaded the guns before putting them back in their respective holsters. We would both be packing guns from now on.
It turned out that we made that decision to carry a gun just in time. Just the following day both Beth and I were working in the garden when a man roughly our age drove into the yard. I guess I was still pretty spooked from the previous day and I slipped the leather thong off the hammer of my revolver that normally held it in the holster before his car even came to a stop. I started walking over to the man as he shut off the car and got out.
I barely noticed that Beth was walking that direction also. She was off to one side of me, smart girl.
“What do want?”
“You sure don’t seem very neighborly. I just wanted to see if I could buy some food.”
He was talking to me but he was staring at Beth. I didn’t like it.
“We have nothing to sell here. Get back in your car and leave.”
He had a pistol in a holster on his hip but I could see the strap that held it in place appeared to be snapped down. He would not be drawing it very fast.
“You are just not neighborly at all. We could just talk for a bit. I’m already tired of driving.”
When he said that he stretched and when he brought his arms down his right hand moved around behind his back. And his eyes were now shifting between Beth and me. I did not like it at all.
“Get back in the car now or you will be fertilizer. And I mean now.”
He was pretty fast. His right arm moved a little farther behind his back and then came whipping back out it was holding a black pistol. When I was a teenager I had carried this revolver everyday when I was home after my dad gave it to me. And I had practiced drawing this gun well over a thousand times just like I saw them do on the TV. Though I had seldom carried it now for several years the old muscle memory was still there.
His pistol had still not swung far enough to point near me when my two shots rang out that almost sounded as one. The old single action I had was way heavier than the new mostly plastic automatics that were commonly seen now days and was what this low life had hidden behind his back. He would never draw that gun again.
The two heavy slow bullets threw the man back against the side of his car and he slowly slid down to the ground. The black pistol slid from his hand and fell to the ground. I took a quick look at Beth and she had her hand on her pistol but had not drawn it from the holster. She had a shocked look on her face. I took another look at the man on the ground and then walked over to Beth.
“Are you OK?”
When I got no response I took her shoulders and turned her away from the man on the ground so she was looking at me.
“Are you OK?”
“I’m OK. It happened so fast. You shot him. So fast. And he had a hidden gun.”
“He was fixing to shoot me.”
“You were so fast. You saved us.”
“You should go back in the house. There is no reason for you to see this.”
She stood up straighter, looked back at the man on the ground and then back at me.
“No, I do need to see this I think. If this happened once it will likely happen again. I have to toughen up. I have to be able to handle things myself. What are we going to do now? Should I call the police?”
“I think I will just bury him. I really doubt the police will come out here but we will call them first before we do anything else.”
