Chapter 5

Return to normal was something of a question. Nothing was the same without James York. Oh, well, life does go on.

I was looking for Sarah to ask her to go riding before the weather got too hot. If we went out early in the morning and got back by about 10:30 or 11:00 AM, the heat would not be too bad. I did want to see what the ranch was like, in case we had a major attack. I wasn't expecting one, but I do like to be prepared. If I couldn't find her, I would just go by myself.

I was walking down the main hallway, when I happened to glance into a room I had not seen before. There was Sarah sitting at a desk, hard at work with a pile of papers in front of her. I debated interrupting her, and then decided "What the hell?" I walked in and waited to be noticed, which didn't take long.

"Good morning, Mat," she said in her usual angelic (so it sounded to me) voice. "I didn't see you; I hope you haven't been standing there long."

"No, I just got here. I wondered if you would like to show me some of the ranch. Of course, if you are busy, I can wait."

"I'd love to go for a ride with you. Just give me a moment to put these papers away," she replied.

We walked out the door, hand in hand. (How did that happen?) We went to the corral just to the left of the main house to ask Bill, the foreman, to have someone get us a couple of horses ready. Quicker than you would expect, a stable boy came running up to us leading two horses. He was grinning from ear to ear, obviously pleased to have been the one lucky enough to have been selected for this chore. In her usual gracious manner, Sarah said, "Thank you, Jesus. These horses will be prefect."

We started out to the west, preferring to have the sun at our backs this early in the day. We rode several miles at a quick trot, and then slowed to a walk to give the horses a breather. The ground we had been covering was pretty flat, with little grass or trees to be seen. Then, to my surprise, we came to a cliff which dropped away at a steep angle for about thirty feet. At the bottom was a small river. About fifty yards away, there was another cliff rising to our same level. This canyon extended out of sight in both directions.

Sarah laughed when she saw my dumbfounded look. "It is spectacular, isn't it? Daddy had great plans for this canyon, but I don't know what will happen now."

We turned and followed the cliff north for a couple of miles and came to a beautiful waterfall. At this point, the sun was high enough that we decided to return to the ranch house. The horses were not too tired, so we decided to race. Sarah took of in a blaze of speed, leaving me to run a poor second. She easily beat me back to the corral and was laughing when I rode up. (God, I love to see her laugh.) We left the horses with the same stable boy and went back into the house.

She led me into the same room where I had found her working. We sat in comfortable chairs facing each other and began to talk. I asked her what she had bee working on when I had found her, and she said, "This was Daddy's study where he did all of the ranch business. I was just looking through some of the papers so that I could be up to date when we probate Daddy's will."

"If you will pardon me for saying so, you appear much better educated than the average girl," I ventured.

Sarah nodded, "That's true. After Mother died, we both knew that I would eventually have to run the ranch, so Daddy made sure that I had adequate tutors who could teach me what I needed to know. It was a grind sometimes, but I finally was able to get it through my thick skull. I don't particularly enjoy all of the paperwork, but I know it has to be done.

"What about you? Mat, you are certainly better educated than you present job would suggest."

"Well, yes. I went to college and was trained as an engineer, but I did not get my diploma due to an unfortunate accident. I became a bounty hunter because there is not much need for an engineer around here."

Sarah brightened up at this. "Oh, but there is a great need for an engineer here on the ranch! Daddy was just going to look for one when... when he was shot. Can you build a large dam?"

"Yes, I can. But why on earth do you need a dam?"

"Daddy wanted to put a dam across that river canyon you saw this morning! He wanted to build a great water reservoir to supply irrigation water for the ranch and, eventually, the whole county. If we had adequate water distribution, the whole county could be a garden spot rivaling Eden! I had despaired of completing his dream, since I had no idea how to find an engineer! Now I have found you! Will you do it?"

Smiling, I said, "Of course I will, since you asked so nicely." At this pint, Sarah jumped up and hugged my neck as it has seldom been hugged before.

Now I had two jobs: Protecting Sarah and building a dam. Hopefully, I could combine the two.

One part of protecting Sarah was to give her the best chance of protecting herself. This meant guns. I had to determine just how good she was with all types of guns. To start out, we needed a shooting range. I don't like the idea of casually shooting across an open field, because you can never be sure how far the bullet will travel. I didn't want to kill some one, or some thing, accidentally. I asked Sarah where would be a good place for a shooting range. When I explained why I thought a range was necessary, she was immediately helpful.

She suggested a place beyond the corral where there was a small hill which would give us a head start on our bullet trap. Since it was so near, I suggested we go examine the location late this afternoon. She was in favor, so that's what we planned.

In the meantime, I asked how competent she thought herself with each type of gun. She claimed to be adequate with a pistol, but had never tried much with a rifle or shotgun. I asked to see the guns available in the house, so we went to look.

We examined the pistols, first. The most appropriate for her seemed to be a Smith and Wesson break-action, 5-shot .38; I knew she carried the .32, but I preferred the slightly better stopping power of the .38.

The rifles offered a wider selection. There was a lever-action .38-40 and a bolt-action .30-30. I liked the .38-40 for its stopping power and rate of fire, but I was a little concerned about its recoil. If the .30-30 worked out better, we could always get a lever-action version.

The shotguns were a conundrum. There could be a lot of recoil expected from any of them, but which gave the best combination of recoil and stopping power? We would just have to test out the 12, 16 and 20 gauge. I wanted buckshot, no matter what.

After the temperature started to fall a little bit, we went out to look at the hill. It turned out to be a good choice; it did not even need any grooming. We had brought the .32 and .38 pistols, so this seemed like a good chance to try them out. I had also brought some tin cans along and I set them out in a line 50 feet away.

I asked Sarah to shoot at the cans with her .32. She drew it from the holster and carefully aimed it by holding it in a dueler's fashion. I didn't say anything; I just let her shoot. She shot all four shots (it was a five-shooter) in the general vicinity of the cans, but didn't hit any. I had her try the same thing with the .38 and she had the same results, but I was happy that she did not have any trouble with the recoil.

I then decided to show off. I stood facing the cans. I drew quickly and proceeded to blast five cans, one right after another. I turned to look at Sarah and she was giving me a dirty look. I smiled and reminded her that I was a professional and had to be that good. She was somewhat mollified when I told her that we would considerably boost her score, too.

I showed her how to stand facing the target and hold the pistol in both hands. I also admonished her to be less tense. When she tried again with the .38, she actually hit one of the cans. I congratulated her, since this really was a worthy achievement. However, it was apparent to both of us that she needed a lot more practice at more realistic targets. After a little more fun shooting, including having Sarah try out one of my .44-40 pistols which she hated, we returned to the house.

I wanted to emphasize the harm that black powder residue could do to a gun, so we went into the gun room and immediately cleaned the pistols that we had fired.

While we were cleaning the guns, it occurred to me that we should switch all of our ammunition to smokeless powder as soon as possible. Black powder put out so much smoke that your position was given away as soon as you fired the first shot. This could be fatal in a protracted gun fight. Even though smokeless powder ammunition was much more expensive, I had switched as soon as I could; and I wanted to give Sarah the same advantage. You still had to clean up after shooting smokeless powder, but it was still much better in both the long run and the short.