Chapter 4

We sorted out the valuable stuff from the bandits an' divided the money four ways. Each one of us got $143 in gold and silver. I got the two guns, the holsters, and six extra cylinders. I could hardly wait ta visit a gunsmith an' find out the story on those guns. They looked brand new an' were obviously .44 caliber.

There was not anythin' else I really wanted, an' the the other three split what was left. We found the bandits' hosses, an' Archy got ta choose which one he wanted ta replace the one the bandits had shot. The rest of the hosses were sold at the next livery stable, an' we split the cash evenly.

We got ta Waco with no more trouble, an' we were paid off. We all were dyin' of curiosity about the pistols, so we went as a group to a gunsmith ta find out what they were. He examined them an' looked in his catalogs before he was able to identify them as Starr DA .44 caliber double-action revolvers. He explained what was meant by "double-action" an' I had ta try them out. Son ... Of ... A ... Bitch! ... Those pistols were fantastic! I could shoot without a separate motion ta cock the hammer—that was what was meant by "double-action."

The other big deal about these revolvers over the Colts was that there was a way to carry them with all six chambers loaded without the danger of accidentally shooting the pistol. I did have ta learn a new way ta change cylinders, but I liked that top-break feature once the screw was removed. It was almost as fast as changin' the cylinder in a Colt, an' the other features made up for that quirk.

I went ta a leather worker an' had a new shoulder holster rig made that would let me carry both guns, one for my left hand an' one for my right hand. I spent every minute I could learning ta draw an' shoot with my left hand. I could see times when that could be a big advantage. It took me about two months, but eventually I learned ta be equally fast an' equally accurate when shootin' with either hand.

The .44 caliber was so much more powerful than the .36 caliber of the Colts, that I was happy ta make the swap. I kept the Colts as spares in case of trouble, but the Starr DAs were now my primary pistol.

I made one more run this season with the freight company, but this time I got $5 a day. I was made the head guard an' had a crew of three men reportin' ta me. This run was ta Houston. It was liquor, again, but we did not get attacked this time. I do not know why, but I was happy for the boredom.

The rainy season started an' shut down the heavy freight business. The wagon wheels got stuck in the mud, an' it just was not worth the aggravation ta try ta git the wagons through. The boss of the freight company asked me ta come back ta work fer him next year, but I refused ta make any promises. I did say that I would drop by ta see him ifen I was in Dallas when the shippin' season started.

I was now almost 15 an' startin' ta feel my oats, so ta speak. I had been with my first saloon whore back the previous year, but now I was feelin' the pressure ta visit one two or three times a week. That meant that I needed more money, soz I figured ta take up gamblin' through the bad weather season. I hoped ta make enough money ta pay fer my new habit. It was costin' me four- to six-bits a week, an' I was noticin' the drain on my money.

I had a couple of favorite saloons where the poker games were low stakes an' the games were mostly friendly, but I was interested in testing my poker prowess by advancin' ta higher stakes games. That meant that I had ta move on ta different saloons.

My first exposure ta the high stakes games was at a table what cost $100 ta buy in. I watched the play fer awhile, an' I couldn't detect any cheatin', so I moved in when a place opened up and dropped five Double Eagles on the table. Everybody else was in business suits, but I was wearin' my workin' clothes. I never thought about it afore, but it looked like I was gonna have ta git me some new clothes ifen I was gonna be comfortable in this kind of poker game.

I lost steadily for the first six hands, but then thin's began ta swin' my way a little bit. Over the next hour, I had won back what I had lost in those first six hands, an' I was startin' ta make a little headway. Durin' the third hour, I had my very first royal flush, an' I was so excited that I almost blew it. I managed ta keep a straight face an' take a $435 pot. There was some grumblin', since I was not a regular, but I tried copyin' Ma's lead-meltin' stare, an' I was back in control of the situation. I was a little bit pissed over the way the others had acted, so I picked up my money an' left the game.

I was standin' at the bar talkin' ta the bartender an' another patron when a galoot walked up an' tapped me on the shoulder. I looked around an' saw this guy who was carryin' so many guns that I wondered how he was strong enough ta walk. I asked, "What kin I do fer ya, Friend?"

He said, "My boss thinks ya cheated at the poker game ya just left, an' he wants his money back."

I have ta admit that I was dumbfounded. I do not know how it would have been possible for me ta cheat, but I was really pissed at the accusation. "Look here, Mister. I ain't never cheated at poker an' I am sure that I never will. Ya go back an' tell yer boss that he is awful close ta gittin' himself shot fer talkin' like that."

"Ya don't understand. Ifen ya do not return his money immediately, I was instructed ta shoot ya. Now, hand over the money!"

I looked at the bartender an' the man who had been part of the previous conversation, but they both shrugged. It was obvious that they had heard the accusation, but they wanted no part of the disagreement. Well, I couldn't blame them, 'cause somebody was about ta git killed real soon ifen I could believe this here galoot. "There ain't no way I am gonna give ya any money. It is yer choice. Either back off or draw. Which will it be?"

I stood with my arms crossed, an' the galoot could not see that my hands were resting on the grips of my guns. He backed up about three paces an' said in a calm voice, "Draw!" Well, there was nothin' else that I could do—I drew. I pulled both guns an' fired one bullet from each into his chest. He had been wearin' his primary gun at his thigh, an' he had it almost drawn from the holster when I shot him.

Either bullet would have killed him, but the two bullets in the chest made doubly sure that I would have no more trouble from this obnoxious galoot. I was usin' paper cartridges, so it only took me a few seconds to reload each gun. I looked around the barroom, but I did not see any reaction beyond curiosity from the rest of the patrons, so I relaxed. Whoever was the galoot's boss was not makin' himself known at this point.

The bartender and the other man both assured me that they saw it as self defense on my part, an' they would say so to the deputy marshal when he arrived. I thanked them an' asked the bartender fer the names of the men at the poker table. I got them, an' there were none that I recognized, so I did not push the issue any farther.

The deputy marshal showed up an' agreed that I had acted in self defense. He told me ta go ahead an' take what I wanted from the body afore the undertaker got to it. I thanked him and looked the dead man over fer money an' other valuables. He had $95 in his moneybelt, an' I took that. Despite all of the firearms an' knives that the fool was carryin', there was nothin' that I wanted. I tipped the swamper $1 fer cleanin' up the spilled blood. He was happy, an' I was happy, so I walked out of the place an' went ta my hotel room. As far as I was concerned, it was time fer bed.