Chapter 1

The State of South Dakota is relatively new, as states go. It was admitted to the Union in 1889. In 1858 when Minnesota was admitted to statehood, what is now North and South Dakota was a single territory. Much of it was Indian Reservation "as long as the grass shall grow and the sun shall shine."

In 1874 the sun quit shining as gold was discovered in the Black Hills of far western South Dakota. The town of Deadwood gained worldwide prominence as a home of easy money and even easier death. The Indian was pushed out of the sacred hills; George Armstrong Custer felt the last sting of their annoyance!

As the gold played out, Deadwood fell on hard times. The frontier history could not make a living, even with the flow of tourists visiting Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse. In a state so sparsely populated that they have only a single congressman, there was little money for redevelopment. The South Dakota Legislature decided to play along with the Deadwood frontier history of a wide-open town. They passed laws allowing blackjack and slot machines in Deadwood bars and saloons.

I was on my way to Deadwood today, but not for the gambling. Not that I am averse to an occasional hand of blackjack. I was to be in the home of so much history for a Frontier Action Shooting Round Up.

Frontier Action Shooting is a series of matches fired by modern day cowboys and cowgirls dressed and armed like the frontier's desperados. Deadwood hosts the Midwest Regional. Think Sturgis with horses and Colt 45's instead of hogs!

I am William Ebenezer Anderson, traveling from my home in Minnesota. My father decided at my birth that an Anderson needed a distinguishing characteristic. It is only by the grace of God and my mother's strident insistence that Ebenezer was not my first name!

Anyone named William who shoots in an Old West costume should be clear that his nickname would certainly end in "The Kid." I took the inevitable with good grace despite my partners-in-crime occasionally ribbing me about my age far exceeding any possible "kid."

In the pickup as we crossed the Missouri River on I 90 was one partner, Krista Calder. I was 24-year-old Krista's mentor and coach in both Frontier and Modern action shooting. Conversely, Krista's skill and competitive drive forced me achieve at a higher level than I was really used to. With my age twice hers, it was a symbiotic and wholly platonic relationship.

Krista shared a characteristic with most women I had coached in that she was very coachable, with very little "attitude" when her technique was corrected. She also had the best hand/eye coordination of any man or women I have ever been around.

During matches, I wore three handguns. All Colt Single Action 45's. I wore a seven inch barreled Colt in the strong side holster under my right hand. The four-inch barreled Colt was in a radical cross draw on my left next to my belt buckle. Another four inch barreled Colt was in a skeleton shoulder holster under my left arm.

Krista had a slightly different arsenal. She had a double holster set with a short-barreled Colt on each side. She had another long barreled Colt in her radical cross draw. I asked her about a shoulder holster once. She said, "Not likely with these babies impeding my draw," as she lifted her more-than-a-handful breasts.

She laughed happily at my obvious embarrassment, and never failed to remind me of our conversation whenever we passed a holster display at the matches.

Krista was an athletic honey blonde. She had a clean natural beauty that fashion models would kill for. Krista was, as she demonstrated, amply endowed, with a tight butt and six-pack abs. She had long well shaped legs. Year round she had an all over tan that complemented her complexion nicely.

Krista competed at the cutting edge of speed at the matches. She was going to find out in Deadwood if she was the fastest woman in the Region. Krista could draw and hit a target equating to a man's chest at seven yards in twenty-five hundredths of a second including reaction time. In fanning events she could empty her gun into the same target in less than a second. She was ambidextrous during events -- nearly equal with either hand!

Krista's favorite Colt had an ivory grip, with a silver snake inlaid in the grip. It was a "dedicated fanner," with no trigger and a flatter hammer spur. The action was strengthened, and had the half and quarter cock notches removed, to lessen the constant battering of the mechanism from fanning. Krista usually wore half gloves just covering her palms, leaving her fingers bare.

For much of her shooting career, Krista competed in matches as her alter ego Crystal. Lately Krista was being introduced at her speed matches as Snake. She loved it -- said the new name took several hundredths off her time in fanning events alone.

She also shot in mounted events. Her Appaloosa horse, Duke, was in the trailer we were towing. Mounted shooting exercises involve shooting several targets from horse back at a full gallop. Krista was an accomplished horsewoman who taught Duke to ignore the gunfire. Actually I think she taught him to love the noise! Duke seems to prance when Krista completes a run -- shooting practically between his ears.