Chapter 5

A few days later we reached Tucson. We had experienced no other trouble on the trip and took it in easy stages to spare the animals. Once in town, we found a combined stable and blacksmith shop, and arranged to stable the animals and to have any horseshoeing done that was needed. The smith also agreed to inspect and make any needed repairs on the wagon and convert it to a four mule hitch. As he started work, the smith directed us to what he said was the best gunsmith in the territory.

As we walked into his shop, Mr. Peters asked, “What can I do for you folks today.”

I took the 12 gage from Dawn and gave it to him as I said, “can you cut the barrel down to 18 inches and shorten the stock to fit her?’

“Sure,” he said, “my son can do that in less than an hour.” Looking around the shop, I said, “Fine, do that and the same to another double barrel, that way she will have four shots available.”

Dawn looked at me in surprise and said, “You sure?”

“Anything for my sister.” I replied, which resulted in huge smiles all around. “While your son is doing that, I hope that you can help us with something else. We will be going through some dangerous areas and need to improve our firepower. I’m in good shape, but my family needs something better than the .36 navy cap and balls they have at present.”

“I have just what you need if you can afford it.” He said. As he spoke he went over to a work bench and reached under it. “I’ve been working on these in my spare time for over a year. This is a navy colt converted to use .38 cartridges, and this is a Remington army converted to use the same .44.40 cartridges those Henrys your folks are carrying use. I have six of each and two extra cylinders for each of the Remingtons. I also milled a groove in the navies like the Remintons have, so you can load all six chambers.”

“We’ll take three of each and a couple of hundred rounds for each. Name your price.”

He did. We paid what he asked, minus the trade in value of the navy cap and balls we gave him. Tara and Rory went out back to try the guns. Tara loved the .38 navies and Rory felt the same about the Remingtons. We would be much more deadly when we continued our trek.

As we packed up to leave the shop, Mr. Peters said, “Wait, you spent a lot of money in my shop today, and I want to show my appreciation.” He handed Patrick a small one barreled shotgun cap and ball, and said to him, “Years ago I made this in .410 for my grandson, he outgrew it and it has just been sitting around. Have your father and uncle show you how to use it.” He looked at us and said, with a smile, “Once he starts you are going to get so sick of rabbit stew.”

When we left the shop, Pat walked in front of us, proudly carrying his shotgun and wearing a smile as big as a watermelon slice. We stocked up on supplies at a couple of general stores, ate a great meal at a Mexican restaurant, and went back to the stable to spend the night as we had already arranged with the smith for two dollars. We washed up at his pump and hit the hay.

The next morning after a big breakfast we started out of town. As we rode down the street I noticed a cavalry patrol watering their horses. The young lieutenant in charge was eyeing my mounts with envy. When he signaled his sergeant to follow him and started in our direction, I knew we might have a problem. As they approached I drew my shotgun from its scabbard and held it across my saddle. As I did that, two things happened, my entire party did the same thing with their long guns, and the sergeant rolled his eyes and looked sideways at his lieutenant.