Chapter 4

Back in Hesper, I took care of the necessary stuff before I looked up Martou Henri. I always wondered about that name, but I did not want to pry, so I did not push the issue. Henri was the gunsmith, and he was reputed to be the best in the county. I could not speak for that, but I did respect his opinion. He took one look at the gun and crossed himself!

It was very bad luck to admit to being Catholic in this part of Texas, so I was amazed at Henri's action. I guess that he trusted me that much or else the sight of the revolver shocked him too much to give the matter any thought. In any case, he handled the revolver reverently as he looked it over.

"What you have here, my friend Johnny, is one of the greatest achievements in the mass manufacture of revolvers. This is a Starr DA in .44 caliber. It was originally intended for the Union Army, but it had some minor problems with the first few that were manufactured. Those problems were fixed, but the War Department was wedded to the idea of a single-action revolver. Therefore, after the initial production run, Starr shifted over to manufacturing what they called the Starr SA. The SA stood for single-action in which the hammer had to be cocked as a separate operation. The DA stood for double-action in which the pulling of the trigger first cocked the hammer and continued pulling caused the hammer to fall. That made the DA a truly point-and-shoot weapon.

"This is the first one I have seen in many years, and that was what startled me. This gun has been taken care of like a fine timepiece, and should continue to perform well for years. There were two models, the Navy in .36 caliber and the Army in .44 caliber. I would love to have it, but I recommend that you keep it. You may find that the double action solves some of your problems with the loss of your first finger. Let's go out to my range and test my theory."

We went out back of the shop to the small range that Henri had out there. I loaded the revolver with my customary six bullets with no admonition from Henri, so I figured that it was safe to do that. I held the revolver in my right hand and tried to cock the hammer for single-action firing. As soon as I pulled with my thumb, the weapon swiveled in my hand, and I could not shoot it until I used my left hand to get it pointed back down range. Once that was done, I was able to shoot by pulling the trigger with what had been my middle finger when I was born.

Henri said, "Okay, Johnny, we have settled the question of single-action shooting. Now, just pull the trigger and let's see what happens."

I was a bit dubious, but the pistol was rock-steady in my hand, and I was able to shoot the next cartridge in the cylinder with no difficulty. I could not resist the temptation and fired off the rest of the shots remaining in the cylinder as fast as I could recover from the recoil and pull the trigger. I could tell that I needed to practice to regain my skill with my right hand, but I could also tell that this was the pistol for me, at least for my right hand.

We went back inside and I removed the Remington and its holster from my left side and replaced it with a crossdraw holster that Henri had in stock. I now felt that I was back in business with shooting with either hand. I was going to have to do a lot of practice to regain my old skill with my right hand, but I now had the weapon to make that possible.

As soon as possible, I was going to replace the Remington on my left side with a .44 caliber Starr DA, but I would continue to go with the Remington on my right side and the Starr on my left side until I could get another Starr. I gathered from what Henri had said that I might never find another Starr, but I would keep looking as long as necessary. I bought four more boxes of ammunition from Henri to use while practicing with the Starr. I planned to do that every day until the gun became second nature for me. I really needed more cylinders for the revolver, but the road agent I took it from did not have any spares.

I thanked Henri profusely for his help and left for my favorite Mexican restaurant. After supper, I stopped by to visit with Eddy and his family and regaled them with the story of my adventure that day. Everybody wanted to see the new gun, so that was a big deal for Eddy, Jr. He was 8-years-old and already agitating for a gun. His mother always vetoed the request, but the kid kept trying.

I left town the next day to follow the same road that I had used the previous day. I was not expecting to meet a road agent before getting to Newcomb, so I unloaded my Starr and practiced drawing it as I rode along. After about an hour, my hand was getting tired, so I reloaded the Starr and started looking for trouble.

I rode into Newcomb with no expectations, and that was just as well. There were no signs of problems of the kind that I could handle, though I did visit the saloon just to make sure that I was up on the local gossip. The bartender did not know of any local news that I had not heard, but he did report a bank robbery having taken place in the town of Ashton three days ago. The two robbers got away with $2,600, and the bank manager had posted a reward for them and the stolen money. The bartender did not have any more information, but I decided to ride to Ashton to see if I could profit from their trouble.

Ashton was only 15 miles north of Newcomb, so I made it in two hours by pushing a little bit. When I got to town, they were still abuzz about the bank robbery, and I had no trouble getting an audience with the banker. He was offering $100 each for the two robbers and $250 for the return of the loot. I got a written statement from him on how much he would pay so that I was covered if I did catch the bandits. As you can tell, I just did not trust bankers as far as I could throw their safes.

I talked to the banker and to the teller who was on duty during the robbery and got good descriptions of the bandits. The descriptions were so good, in fact, that I went out to my horse and retrieved a couple of wanted posters. Yes, both men were on the posters, and I could get an extra $60 from the state for capturing them on unrelated charges.

A long conversation with the local marshal gave me all of the information that he had on the robbery and what he had done to try to catch the thieves. He had formed a posse and chased after the bandits until he lost them in the wild brush. He did not have a good tracker along with him, and he claimed that was why he had not been able to find the bandits. I believed him, but I figured on taking up where he had left off. I had been a good tracker when I worked for Judge Allen, so I might spot something that the marshal and his posse had missed.

It was still early in the afternoon, so I figured to make a start on my search. I rode directly to the clump of trees and brush where the posse had lost the bandits and began my search for a trail to follow. I moved out about 250-300 yards from where the posse had given up and started to make a wide circular sweep of the area. I had been at this for about 45 minutes when I spotted some brush that had been trampled down from the passage of two or more horses. That looked promising, so I followed the obvious path for about four miles.

I stopped when I spotted a shack among the trees, and there was smoke coming from the chimney. Maybe I would be lucky if I played my cards right. I looped around the shack and found a rope corral holding two horses, one of which was a paint. One of the bandits had been riding a paint horse, so maybe I had found my quarry.