Chapter 5

Show business was just my style. It was hard work while I was performing, but I had a lot of free time to do whatever I wanted. I had to admit that I liked staying in one place to put on shows; I had gotten pretty tired of driving that mule, though Lucy was a real nice and accommodating animal. If things stayed just like they were now, I felt like I could go on forever in Amarillo. Amarillo was a nice place, although the weather could be a bitch on occasion.

We were into our third six-week contract and the owner was back to talking about enlarging his saloon, even though the crowds had dropped off a little. Much to my surprise, I had developed a fan following. There was one bunch of young guys who came in most every night and cheered every time I hit the target, which was every time I shot. They didn't drink much, but they did drink enough to keep the bartender happy.

One night, after the show, one of the fans came up to me and very politely asked if I could teach him to shoot as well as I could. I told him, Jim Rivers, that I didn't know, but I was willing to try. He had an old cap-and-ball Colt that dated from the 50s. I told him that, first thing, he had to get a new pistol, since that one was worn out. He nodded and I didn't see him for three days. I figured that he couldn't afford a new pistol, so he was going to drop the idea of learning to shoot better.

No, he showed back up with a new Colt six-shooter in .44-40, the same caliber as mine, but mine was a Smith&Wesson. We talked about guns for a few minutes, then I agreed to meet him in a vacant lot next to the saloon at 10:00 o'clock the next morning.

The building on the side of the vacant lot was an old abandoned adobe building that had once been used as a barber shop. The adobe wall made a perfect backstop for the shooting range, and the lot was about 50 feet wide. That was about ideal for what we wanted, and the lot belonged to the saloon owner. He said that we could use the lot, but we would have to be responsible for any damage that might happen. I said that I was agreeable to that condition, so my class was ready to start the next morning.

Jim Rivers showed up with his friends, but I shooed them off. I couldn't teach with a bunch of people hanging over my shoulder making comments. Jim scared me at first, because he wanted to do it his way, even though he had asked me to show him my way. His way was showy, but pretty sloppy. He wanted every shot to be fast-draw, and I insisted that he had to learn to shoot before he could go for that. He started to argue, but I told him that he had come to me, not the other way around. If he wanted my help, he had to do what I wanted. That got through to him, I guess, because he started paying attention to what I said from then on.

I started him out getting used to his gun by using two hands to hold the gun and aim. After a week of practice, he could hit the bull's eye every time at 40 feet with that stance and plenty of time to aim. Once he had that nailed, we went to one-hand shooting, but still aiming. Since he was pretty good with two hands, he learned that in another week. He was not quite as accurate with one hand as he had been with two, but he was anxious to learn to shoot without actually aiming.

We started off the third week with him taking snap shots, not trying to fast draw, but firing without taking forever to aim. We had agreed to do another six weeks at $135 per show, so I had time to work with Jim some more. It took him three more weeks before he could hit the bull's eye once in a while shooting like that. He kept nagging at me to show him what I could do at 40 feet. I quick drew and fired, missing the bull's eye by about two inches, but I put the other four bullets in the bull's eye as fast as I could cock and pull the trigger. Jim shook his head and said, "Ya taught me a hell of a lot, but I ain't never gonna be able ta shoot like that."

I said, "Maybe you can, when you've had as much practice as me."

Three days later, a deputy marshal stopped me on the street and said that the marshal would appreciate it if I would drop by to see him at my convenience. I had nothing else to do that morning and I was burning with curiosity what the marshal of Amarillo could possibly want with me.

I walked to the jail and went in; the marshal was sitting behind his desk. He stood up to shake my hand. "Howdy, Mr. Bartholomew. It's right neighborly fer ya ta drop by like this so quick. Please have a seat. Coffee?"

I took a cup of coffee and sat down in the indicated chair. "What can I do for you, Marshal James? I'm dying of curiosity as to why you wanted to see me."

The marshal laughed and said, "It ain't nothing bad, Mr. Bartholomew. I heard how ya wuz able to train that clumsy lunkhead of a Jim Rivers to shoot like a pro. I wonder ifen ya would be willin' to try the same thing fer me an' my deputies?"

"I don't know, Marshal James. I ain't never really tried to teach a group to shoot, before. Hell, Jim Rivers was the first person I ever taught. How many would it be, you included? Oh, and please call me Jeremiah, Mr. Bartholomew makes me look around for my father."

"OK, Jeremiah, an' ya kin call me Hank. There are 12 deputies and I would make 13. Do ya think that ya could handle that many? It wouldn't be all at one time. I talked ta the city council an' the mayor, an' the city would be willin' ta pay ya $25 per person ya trained."

"Man, that's a handsome price to pay. I'd do most anything for that kind of money," I said and grinned.

"We'd have ta make it several classes, soz the town wouldn't be without policin' while the class wuz goin' on. I figure three classes, of five, four, and four in the class. Is that OK?"

"Yeah, Hank, I think so. We can start out that way, anyhow. When do you want to start?"

"This is Friday, so let's start on Monday. What time and where do ya want ta meet us?"

"We can start out in that vacant lot next to the Hoedown Saloon. Will 10:00 AM be OK. I expect the first class to run until noon. We'll see what adjustments to make after the first class."

"Great, me and four of my deputies will be there. Do we need to bring anything with us?"

"No, just show up with your guns and plenty of ammunition." The conversation continued for another half hour before I decided to let the Marshal get back to work. I walked out of the jail wondering what I had gotten myself into. I looked up Jake and asked his opinion.

"Hell, ifen ya kin do as good with the deputies as ya did with Jim Rivers, I 'spect that the city will git its money's worth. Go to it, it ain't gonna interfere with the show. Ya better clear it with the owner just ta be polite and maybe tip him $10 once the city pays ya the first time."

"Shit, that's a good idea. I plumb forgot about who owned the property. I better go talk to him right now."

I went to the saloon and spoke to the bartender/owner. I explained what I had in mind, and he gave me the go ahead. I went out and seriously looked at the vacant lot for use as a class room. Basically, it was fine, except that it was open on two sides, so that crowds could gather, and I was afraid that would distract the shooters. The other problem was that it was just a vacant lot, so there was no place for people to sit while they were waiting for their turn to shoot. Also, the Texas sun can get mighty hot, so I needed a water bucket and dipper. Hell, this thing was growing bigger than I expected.

I was a little bit concerned about that adobe wall we were shooting at. It was showing some wear from all of the bullets that were being shot into it. I didn't know how thick it was, so I didn't know how long we'd go before we punched a hole in it. Maybe I needed to arrange for some more adobe bricks to keep that from happening. Here I go thinking like a businessman. It sure wasn't like show business.