Chapter 3

The next morning saw us leaving town to continue our trip to Branson. Both of us were now wearing two pistols in shoulder holsters. Mary was not familiar enough with the shoulder holsters to manage a quick draw, but I intended to reserve enough time for her to practice some this afternoon while there was still daylight.

We now had four pistols loaded with six cartridges in each, a safety feature of the Starr DA allowed that. The five Henry rifles were divided up so that Mary had three up front with her, I had one on my saddle, and there was one in the back where I could use it if we ran into another roadside holdup like that last one. Actually, that was the safest kind of fight for us to be in, and I hoped that most of them were like that.

We had also rearranged the load in the wagon so that we could sleep in the wagon and not under it. I had enough of bumping my head while trying to fuck! The bed area was at the rear of the wagon, so that was the open space I used as a fighting position. We had about the best arrangement one could hope for in using a wagon for a fort.

We were concerned about Bushwhackers, though we could still run into Jay Hawkers or Indians. Most of the Indians had moved to Indian Territory (Oklahoma in the 21^st century), but a few could still show up. From what people had said in the saloons, we were lucky to have gotten so far out of town without running into Bushwhackers. I expected trouble to show up at any moment.

Well, it did not! We stopped for a light lunch and were eating when another wagon pulled to a stop and asked to join us. They looked safe enough, so we invited them in. They, like us, were lunching on a beef and beans stew with coffee to drink. This family was a man, a woman, and two sons. The boys were 11 and 13 years old, and, of course, were carrying guns. Only the woman was unarmed; she was another of those women who thought that guns were unladylike. Mary whispered to me that she was going to talk to the woman in private after lunch.

The new people were pleasant to talk to. They were headed to Indian Territory to set up a farm. The man was sure that the War would get a whole lot worse before it got better, and he wanted to be out from under it before it found them. Of course, I agreed with him, and I told him so. The family was from Northern Mississippi, and had been on the road for well over a month. They did not make good time because they were using horses instead of mules. Horses are not as strong as mules and have to stop more often to rest.

These people, the Beauregards, had run into bandits a couple of times, but had been able to fight them off. It seemed that, according to their father, both boys were excellent shots with their Navy Colt revolvers. I wished them luck, and I was sure that they were going to need it.

Mary talked to Mrs. Beauregard while they were cleaning up after lunch. We left before they did because the horses needed the rest. When I asked about the conversation with Mrs. Beauregard, Mary just shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. Obviously, Mary had not made much of an impression. For whatever it might be worth, we never saw the Beauregards again.

It was about two hours later that six men rode up to the wagon. As it happened, Mary was by herself. I had stopped off to take a crap, and had not caught up to her, yet. Mary did not fool around when the men rode up. She halted the mules and pulled her revolver, but she kept it hidden by her dress.

The men, ruffians of the worst sort, were in a laughing good mood because they could see a rape party staring them in the face. The spokesman, probably the leader of the group, rode up to the driver's box and said, "Hello, Little Lady. I bet you are thrilled to see six such handsome men all approach you at the same time. Please take off your dress and meet us here on the ground. We think that this is the perfect time for a party."

"Get your slimy ass away from my wagon! I do not want my mules to catch anything from you." She pulled her pistol and pointed it at the leader. Of course, she did not cock it as that was completely unnecessary with the Starr DA. The leader saw that she had not cocked the hammer, so he must have figured that he was dealing with a woman who did not know how to defend herself.

"Now, Little Lady, it would be best if you did not try our patience. Put that gun down before I have to take it from you."

"Just try it and see what it gets you, you ... galoot!"

The leader had been called a galoot before and he did not like it then, so he certainly did not like it when a woman insulted him like that. This was apparently the last straw. The man reached for Mary's gun, and that was when she pulled the trigger. I had just remounted when I heard the first shot, and I naturally feared for the worst. Especially, when I heard several more shots ring out before I could get close enough to see what was going on.

Mary had put a bullet into the leader's guts and was firing at the other men with only a minimum pause. None of them had drawn their guns because they had assumed that Mary could not shoot without first cocking her hammer. That was when they learned the hard way about double-action revolvers. Only the sixth man had been able to draw his revolver before Mary shot at him, and she did not miss.

By the time I arrived, six men were lying on the ground, most of them dead. I checked to make sure that they were all dead, cutting one throat to insure that condition, before I turned back to Mary. I had known that she was okay, because I had seen her swapping to her other pistol as I rode up. Nevertheless, I could not help myself as I blurted out, "Mary, Dearest, are you okay?"

"Yes, Husband, thanks to you I am. Your insistence that I learn to shoot these revolvers has made that happen. Thank you, thank you, thank you." That was when she burst into tears of obvious relief. I crawled up into the driver's box with her and let her cry on my shoulder until the adrenalin had drained from her system.

When her crying was finished, I climbed back down to the road to check for loot while Mary very calmly swapped cylinders in her revolver and reloaded the used one. I was not surprised at her, but I was very proud of her. She had proved that she could take care of herself in a tight spot. I told her that over and over for the rest of the day until I was sure that my words had sunk in.

None of the dead men were carrying much in the way of money, but they did have some things worth salvaging. I tied their horses to the back of the wagon and dragged the bodies out of the road. The scavengers would take care of them over the next couple of days, so there was no point in bothering with a burial. The wild hogs would probably have the bones cleaned before tomorrow morning.

We had to spend the night in a camp because we had not yet reached a town. This was not a significant problem, except that I did have six extra horses to take care of. Mary and I spent the night in our bed in the wagon and started the night the way we usually did. The sex was simple that night because we were both still wound up a little bit from the attack on Mary. We both figured to be in good shape by tomorrow morning.

Dammit, it is getting so a man cannot take a decent piss without an interruption. I had just dressed and had not had breakfast when I went to water a bush. At least I was finishing up before the mules sounded off. All four of them were braying, and you would have to be dead to miss their noise. A few moments later, even the horses chimed in. When that happened, I figured that the problem was not human; otherwise, the horses would not have panicked.

I turned around and looked for the troublemaker. There it was: the biggest damned black bear I had ever seen. Even the bears in the Roman arenas were not that big! Just at that moment, I heard a Henry go off. Mary was standing in the open bed of the wagon trying to shoot the bear with one of the rifles. She fired again, and I saw a little blood appear on the bear's head. She was hitting it, but the bear's skull was too thick to let a bullet through.