Chapter 6

I came around the bend in the road and saw a man lying behind his dead horse. Judging from the powder smoke, he was fighting three men about 60 yards away, up the road on one side. When I got close enough, I yelled, "WHAT'S GOING ON?"

"I'M A BOUNTY HUNTER! I WAS AMBUSHED BY THOSE THREE GALOOTS UP THERE! HELP ME AN' I'LL SPLIT THE REWARD WITH YA!"

"OK, JUST DON'T SHOOT ME BY MISTAKE!" I knew the crooks heard us yelling to each other, so my appearance would be no surprise. I decided that the smart thing would be for me to get behind them. As soon as I turned off the road, I saw why they had not flanked the bounty hunter. The ground along here was so broken and rough, no horse could safely get through. I dismounted and pulled my Henry rifle from its scabbard. I loaded my pockets with spare ammunition and started making my way on foot toward the crooks.

It took me over 20 minutes to move a hundred yards, but I finally did it. I got into position and lined up on the three galoots I could see. The fools were passing around a bottle of liquor and swigging every time the bottle got to them. I swear, how dumb can you get?

I was only 30 or so yards away, so I figured I could handle three drunks pretty easily. I began shooting and, by my third shot at that range, I had wounded or killed all three. I waved my hat in the air and yelled, "IT'S ALL CLEAR! COME ON UP!"

The bounty hunter came up the road and climbed to where the three now dead galoots were lying. He waved to me, and I went down to his position. "Howdy, I'm Tom Olson. I call myself The Texas Kid. Who might you be?"

"Well, I might be the governor of Texas, but I ain't. I'm Jeff Gibson, and I'm much obliged fer yer help. Ya just earned yerself $500 an' my gratitude.

"These three are wanted fer bank robbery. The total reward fer them is $1,000, so I figured ya ought ta git half of that. Just help me haul them to the nearest town with a marshal, and we kin go collect our money."

"That sounds mighty good to me. I guess all we need to do is to find their horses so you'll have something to ride." It only took a few minutes to find their horses, so we were ready to leave in about an hour. It was kind of a juggling act to get them onto two horses along with the tack and other stuff from Jeff's horse, but we finally made it.

Looting the men was right profitable, too. There was nearly $100 in cash, but a more useful item for me was another Starr DA .44 caliber pistol. I swapped my share of the cash for the pistol. I had high hopes for it.

Once we collected our money from the county clerk, Jeff and I adjourned to a saloon for a beer. I told him that I, too, was a bounty hunter and was looking for a partner. I told him some of my experiences with Henry without telling the whole story, and he could see the value of working as partners. Today having been a good example.

Jeff suggested that we join up on a trial basis to see how it worked out. Jeff was 19 years old, so there wasn't too much difference in our ages for us to be friends. One thing I liked about him was that he did not care for gambling any more than I did. I told him that I had been headed for Amarillo, and his response was, "Why not?"

On the way, I explained that my quarry had been the low end of the pay scale because they were so easy to find. I said that it had been my experience that we could each make a steady $1,100-1,500 a year. That wouldn't make us rich, exactly, but it was plenty for me. He agreed that I had a point.

I have a weakness, I admit it. Every time I go into a town with a gunsmith, I just have to stop and look over the wares. I almost never buy anything except ammunition, but I do like to talk to the gunsmith to hear what are the latest developments in a critical tool of my trade.

The gunsmith in Amarillo was a revelation! He showed me a couple of items new to me: the Winchester 1873 model in .44-40 caliber and a companion Smith & Wesson top break pistol, also in .44-40 caliber. The only thing that kept me from buying both on the spot was that the pistol was single action, and I still preferred my double action Starr.

Further conversation revealed that the S&W pistol could be converted to double action, provided only that I was willing to spend about $100 for the conversion. The gunsmith said that there would be considerable hand work involved, so it would take him around three months to complete the conversion. Shit! My mouth was watering to have such a toy, so I contracted on the spot to have him convert one of his stock S&W pistols for me. I told him that if the action was as smooth as with my Starr DA, I would buy four more from him, for a total of five. Now, his mouth started to water! He had never made such a sale, before. He assured me that he could do the job.

I wanted two such pistols for me, two for Jeff, and one as a Christmas present for my brother John. I was certain that Jeff would convert as soon as he had a chance to try out the wonderful speed of double action and of reloading with cartridges in a top break pistol.

I immediately traded in my Henry for the .44-40 Winchester and left a $250 deposit for the five pistols. I promised to be back in three months for my wonders. I didn't know how the gunsmith felt, but I was walking on clouds just thinking about my discovery.

Jeff was impressed with the Winchester, and he was interested in a new rifle, since his Henry was showing signs of wear and tear. The combination of my enthusiasm and his real need convinced him to buy one of the new Winchesters. I was still so excited that when we went back to the gunsmith for Jeff's new rifle, I swapped one of my Starr DAs and $10 for a S&W .44-40 pistol. The new pistol was a good enough fit in the old holster that I didn't even need to make that change. I really got carried away and bought a bullet pouch for my belt to hold the spare .44-40 cartridges. I was going through money like it was water, but I had no other place that I wanted to spend it, so why not have some fun with it?

Of course, Amarillo, itself, was no place for a couple of low-end bounty hunters like us since there was too much of a chance of walking into a bullet if we let ourselves be known. Therefore, we headed north toward the Oklahoma panhandle after we had restocked our pile of wanted posters.

We quickly found some wanted men as we moved north, and we were each about $100 richer when we came to the last town in Texas. Now we had to make a choice, we could push on farther north into Oklahoma, or we could turn west into NMT. I had automatically selected NMT, mostly because I had already been there once before, so I felt more comfortable there. However, Jeff suggested that we head into Oklahoma, since neither one of us had ever been there, and there were rumors that Oklahoma was a hot-bed of potential bounty. Jeff didn't have to work very hard to convince me, so we headed north.

The border was not well defined, so it was impossible to tell when we actually crossed over, but we found out where we were when we wandered into a town named Oksula. There was a sign which proudly proclaimed that we had entered Oksula, Oklahoma Territory. It looked like any other town to me, but I agreed to take their word for it.

One thing could be said for Oksula, it was full of saloons. We arbitrarily picked the first one we came to, tied up to the hitching rail, and went inside. The contrast of the bright sun outside to the deep gloom inside made us absolutely blind for a few seconds, and that was almost a fatal delay.

A voice shouted, "JEFF GIBSON, I'VE GOT YA NOW, YA BASTARD!"

Neither one of us had completely recovered from the change in light level, so we did the best thing we could. We both dove for the floor as bullets whizzed over our heads. I swear, nothing clears your vision like being shot at!