Chapter 11

We had just finished dinner when I told Bill I was going to his friend's and would be back in about an hour. As I went out the front door, I heard him tell Tiny where I was going. I had just climbed into my truck when Sarah came running up to the door.

"Jon, I want you to pick me up a nine millimeter for my own protection. I already know how to shoot, so don't worry about that. With all that's going on, I think it's time."

"I will if that's what you want, Sarah. You do know you will have to take the course to carry it concealed?"

"I have already taken the course and sent the paperwork in. The Judge in Juvenile Court told me he would make sure it got expedited for me."

"Ok, let me see what he has and I will pick out something for you."

"Thanks, Jon, I really appreciate it. See you when you get back."

I watched as she walked away, wondering why I had never paid much attention to her. She sure was pretty, I thought, as I headed for the town and Jeb's workshop. I paid careful attention to make sure I didn't have a tail as I drove, and it seemed I was the only vehicle on the road all the way to town. I found his shop without a problem and went inside, marveling at all the weapons he had displayed on the walls behind the counter. This man, I realized, really took his business seriously. I watched two men who were wandering around, watching me as I walked up to the counter. I could plainly see both were armed and both looked mean enough to bite a snake's head off if they got mad.

This had been a marvel to me since I came to this country, the casual ease in which the people here seemed to love their guns. For the most part, they all seemed to know how to shoot them well too. In France, it wasn't illegal to own a gun, but it took a lot of paperwork and checks before you could even buy a pistol legally. Shotguns were the main weapon of choice by all the farmers there. Here, anyone who lived in the country or the rural areas owned both pistols and rifles. My grandfather had told me a lot of them slept with them under their pillows from habit. Now me, I would keep one close, but not under my pillow. The way I tossed and turned and with the nightmares I still had, I would quite possibly shoot myself by accident. Nope, under the pillow was a little too close for me.

"Mr. Morgan, I am glad you decided to come tonight instead of tomorrow. Bill told me you didn't have any weapons in the house and wouldn't until yours were returned."

"Well, Myrna had her grandfather's cannon."

He busted out laughing and looked at me for a moment.

"That old Dragoon she has is worth thousands of dollars. It's one of the styles that was converted to use cartridges instead of black powder. Tell her if she ever decides to sell it to think of me first, will you? Now, come on to the back and look at what I have to offer. Since you're almost family, I will give you a good price on anything you pick out."

I followed him to another area that held an indoor shooting range. The place was huge and looked to have at least fifty firing stalls. In front of it were at least twenty large tables with red felt on them and covered with pistols of every size and shape. He went down the line, telling me which tables had new guns, which were slightly used, and so on. He also said the last table was junk that you could throw away if needed, winking at me as he said it. I was almost halfway back to the new guns when what he said and the wink that went along with it sunk in. I hoped I would never need to use a throwaway while I did my job. If I ever did something like that, I knew I would quit and return to France for the rest of my life.

I went down the side of the first table looking around before I saw what I was looking for and picked it up. Yep, this will do for my personal weapon, I thought. I also saw a nice lady's hammerless pistol with a two inch barrel that I thought would be perfect for Sarah. I remembered she wanted a nine, but this she could carry in a small holster, or in her pocket or purse while she worked. I picked it out and then looked for a backup weapon for me for my ankle holster. I found a beautiful stainless Sig Sauer with the extended mags in the .380 caliber. I had really liked that gun when I was in France so I grabbed it immediately. Now that's two Sigs and one S&W. I had another thought as I walked toward Jeb, sitting in his office.

"Jeb, do you have the extended mags for the Sig forty I want?"

"I think I have ten of them if you want them all. I will give you a wholesale price on all of them. I have three in stock for that little .380 there, if you want them too."

"Jeb, I also have an odd request for you, if you can find it for me. I want a twenty-two magnum rifle with a nine power weaver variable scope zeroed in at a hundred yards. I also want two noise suppressors for it, the type that twist and lock on instead of screwing on. I want the silencers both to be repackable by a person in the field, if necessary. Can you lay your hands on something like that? Preferably with a bull barrel and double spaced rifling."

"Jon, that's the first time I have ever heard of anyone using a twenty-two mag for a sniper rifle. You sure that's what you want?"

"Jeb, we used them in the Legion for just that purpose and they worked great up to a hundred and twenty yards. Anything over that and they are worthless, but they work great under rough conditions. If you can find the breakdown style, I will pay you extra."

"I can get what you want, Jon, but it will take me a couple of weeks to do it. You want single shot or mag fed?"

"Bolt action mag fed if you can find one. Preferably ten shot mags. I want hi-grain hollow points for it with a full jacket, not soft lead points."

He just looked at me for a minute before he went out the door and came back with the mags for the pistols and several boxes of shells. He also had an ankle holster and a fast draw breakaway shoulder for the forty. He had a small universal holster for the S&W and several speed loaders and shells for it. I immediately put the shoulder holster on and asked for a mechanical loader for the mags for the forty. I couldn't load it with one arm not working right. He sat and loaded all the mags for me, then bent down and attached the ankle holster to my left ankle. He finished up, sat back down, and looked at me for a couple of minutes before he spoke. What he said was disturbing, but I was glad for the offer he made.

"Jon, for what it's worth, I think with what you are going to do, you will need some help. You have my card and I know a couple of ex navy seals who would love to get back out in the field. I suggest that if you get in over your head, you give me a call and I will send both of them to you. They are both meaner than junk yard dogs, but they know how to follow orders. Your grandfather was a good friend to me for many years and that's why, to me, you are family."

"I appreciate the offer, Jeb, but I am staying home until I am healed and won't be getting into any trouble. I don't know where you think I am going, but I will promise you that if I do need help, I will call. Now, add up what I owe you so I can get back to the house before Bill comes looking for me."

We both laughed. He added it up much too quickly, I thought, and the total was hundreds less than I would have paid normally. I started to say something but the look on his face killed my words before I could say them. I paid in cash and didn't sign a paper of any kind. I looked at him and he quickly told me the guns weren't stolen or anything like that. They were on consignment from friends of his. They didn't want any paperwork, just the money. I shrugged and smiled as I paid. He said he would deliver the rifle as soon as he got it and it would be sighted in at a hundred yards. He said he would be able, he thought, to get the survival type I wanted without a problem. He would also have a special case made for it to hold all the extras. I thanked him and he walked me out to my truck. I got in and his parting remarks made me realize just how much my grandfather had been respected all around this area.