Free The Case of the Deadly Desperados by Caroline Lawrence Page B

he said. “I only ever shot at a man once in my life, in the first days of this War between the States we are now embroiled in. I don’t know if it was my bullet that done for him or not, but it chilled me to the marrow of my bones. That is one reason I came west, to escape the carnage of that accursed War. Nonetheless, I am going to give you something that may save your life. Here. Take it.” Sam Clemens extended the revolver towards me, butt first.
    Feeling sheepish, I stood up and took the gun. It was small—with a barrel only about four inches long—but it was heavy for its size. It had a walnut grip & it felt natural in my hand.
    Sam Clemens said, “That is a Smith and Wesson’s number one seven-shooter.”
    â€œI have heard of these,” I said. “The ball and charge and cap are all in one cartridge.”
    â€œThat’s right,” he said. “Some people call them Rimfire Cartridges. That little gun is the latest thing. All you have to do is cock it and fire.”
    â€œWhere is the trigger?”
    â€œThat is called a spur trigger. When you cock the pistol it pops out.”
    I flipped the barrel back on itself & took out the cylinder & saw it was loaded with seven of those new Rimfire Cartridges. I unloaded the revolver & replaced the cylinder & flipped the barrel & cocked it. Sure enough, a little trigger popped out. I tried it out a few times, pulling the trigger and hearing it go click. It looked strange, but it worked fine.
    â€œCunning, ain’t it?” said Sam Clemens. He pulled a handful of spare cartridges from his pocket and laid them on the table.
    I knew my foster pa & ma would not approve. But my Indian ma would. She had taught me to shoot a rifle & a revolver. I suspected my Detective pa would be pleased, too.
    As I fed some cartridges back into the cylinder I said, “Twenty-two caliber?”
    â€œThat’s right,” he said. “It has a ball like a homeopathic pill and it takes all seven to make a full dose for an adult.”
    I did not know what a homeopathic pill was, but a .22 caliber ball is about the smallest ball you can get.
    â€œThe other problem,” said Sam Clemens, “is that it will not hit anything. One of my pals once fired this at a cow. As long as the cow stood still she was safe.”
    I finished loading the gun & snapped the cylinder into place & looked up at him. “If I take this, then won’t you be defenseless?”
    Sam Clemens sat down again & puffed on his pipe. “I have a Colt’s Navy Revolver in my bunk next door. I suppose I will have to wear it so as not to be conspicuous by its absence. I would be just as happy to give you that, but it could actually harm someone. That feeble little seven-shooter would not hurt a flea. It is just for looks.”
    â€œSo if I were to aim this gun at that picture of the mountain on the wall?” I said.
    â€œYou most likely would not hit it. But it looks good and you can scare people off with it.”
    I started to put the revolver in the right-hand pocket of my buckskins but quickly remembered I was wearing a pink calico dress. So I put the revolver & spare cartridges in my medicine bag. The gun’s walnut grip stuck out a little. But that would make it easy to get at. I slipped the pouch under the neck of my dress. The bulge was not very noticeable.
    The door opened & a boy about my age came in with a steaming pitcher. I could smell whiskey, milk, honey & nutmeg.
    â€œThe milk punch you ordered, sir,” said the boy. He had light brown hair with a cowlick, and a scattering of freckles across his nose. He put the jug down near Sam. Then he saw me & his eyes opened wide.
    â€œWhy, hello, miss,” he said, taking off his hat & pressing it over his heart. “I do not believe we have met.” He gave me a lopsided smile. “Are you new in town? You are real pretty. I believe I would like to steal a kiss from