Quickdraw
Chapter 1
The two men stood in the street, 10 yards away from each other. Fingers twitched over their holsters, and sweat began to pop out in beads on their foreheads. Ritchie Bevers blinked away the sweat that fell into his eye, and imagined that he'd seen Bart Connor's hand move. He drew and fired, and was shocked when he felt the lead tear through his leg. He fell, and the dust quickly attached itself to his sweaty skin. Soon he was surrounded by concerned onlookers.
Despite Adam's firm grip on him, ten year old Little Joe had seen the shootout in its entirety through a small hole between Adam's elbow and chest. He tried to hide his excitement from his big brother. "C'mon, Joe, let's get outta here," Adam commanded, leading the boy by the elbow to the loaded buckboard.
Adam was very quiet on the ride home, and to Joe, it looked like he was angry. "I'm sorry, Adam," Joe said, thinking he'd done something wrong.
"What for, Little Joe?" Adam inquired.
"I dunno, but you sure look mad. I musta done somethin'," Joe explained.
Adam let go a small smile. He put his arm around the boy. "I'm not mad at you, Joe. I'm mad at the men who were fighting."
"Mr. Bevers and Mr. Connor? Why?"
Adam thought for a long time. He had to be careful how he answered.. He wanted Joe to learn to be smart about when and how to defend his honor, not like the two men today. He also knew that he couldn't defame the two men who fought today, or Joe would end up in trouble for not showing respect to his elders. "Joe, there's a time to fight, and a time not to, and today those men let their whiskey bottles do their deciding for them. They're just lucky no one was killed."
"Whattaya mean, let the whiskey bottles decide?"
"Joe, when a man drinks too much, he doesn't think clearly."
Joe laughed. "Oh, yeah, and sometimes he can't walk too good, neither. Remember when Mr. Denton came to the house that time? First he fell off his horse and then he was walking all over the place trying to get to the door!"
Adam made a sad clicking sound with his mouth. "I remember. It's best not to talk about those kind of things, Joe." They rode in silence for a while.
"Have you ever been drunk, Adam?"
There was a long silence, and Joe thought Adam was ignoring him. "Yes, Joe, I have."
Joe was shocked. He stared wide-eyed at his brother. "Why?"
Oh, that was a loaded question. Adam snapped the reins a little, wanting the ride to be over sooner so he could get out of this web that Joe was spinning around him. "Sometimes, a man gets drunk to forget about his problems. Sometimes, because it feels good. And sometimes, he doesn't realize he's getting drunk until it's too late."
Joe waited a moment and then asked timidly, "But why did you get drunk?"
Adam shrugged. "I guess I've done it for any of those reasons at one time or another." Pa might be angry about the direction this conversation had gone. Adam gave Joe a sidelong glance. "Uh, Joe, how 'bout we keep this discussion just between us?"
Joe smiled. "Sure, Adam." He rubbed his nose with his shirt sleeve. "Adam, have you ever been in a gunfight?"
"No," Adam replied.
Joe sat in the hayloft, watching the road for as far as he could see. Finally, he saw a small cloud of dust. He watched until he could identify the wagon, then scrambled down the ladder and ran as fast as he could to the ranch house. He threw open the door and yelled, "Pa, Pa! They're here!"
Ben folded up the paper he was reading and dropped it on the coffee table. As he walked toward the door, he spoke in a soft voice. "All right, all right, son. Settle down!" He squeezed Joe's small shoulder. "Why don't you run upstairs and tell Hoss and Adam?"
"Sure!" Joe breathed as he sprinted up the stairs. Soon, the whole family was out in the yard, ready to meet their guests.
The carriage rolled to a halt and Adam gave Mrs. Hinton a hand down as Ben relayed greetings to Mr. Hinton. Sam Hinton, their nine year old son, had already leapt from the wagon and was talking excitedly with Little Joe. Wes Hinton pulled a small carpet bag out of the back of the wagon.
Ben took it from him. "Here, Wes, let me take that." He led the way into the house. Inside, Ben handed the carpet bag to Joe. "Joseph, why don't you take this upstairs and show Sam where he'll be sleeping?"
"Sure, Pa!" Joe yelled. The bag was a little heavy for him, but Joe refused help from his friend. He climbed the stairs, Sam trailing behind.
Turning to the adults, Ben noticed Mrs. Hinton squeezing her husband's hand. "He's so excited. It was all he could talk about last week!"
Ben smiled. "Oh, they'll have a wonderful time! Sometimes, I think Joe gets lonely, with no one his own age around."
Wes chimed in. "Sam's like that, too. Those kids in town have it different, but our kids have to learn how to entertain themselves."
"When they're not working!" Hoss interjected.
Hop Sing entered from the kitchen. "Dinner Ready!" he called, giving a bow to the guests. Everyone headed for the table.
Sam's mother bent down to kiss his cheek. "You behave yourself for Mr. Cartwright, you hear?"
"Yes, Ma'am," the boy said sheepishly.
His father slapped him on the arm and gave a light pat to his cheek. "See you in a week, Sammy."
"Yeah, Pa. Bye," the boy waved as they boarded the wagon and rode away.
Ben turned to Sam and Joe. "Well, you boys best be getting to bed. It's late," he announced. For once, Joe didn't argue, just ran up the stairs, dragging his friend with him.
"G'night, boys," Adam called to deaf ears.
"Night fellas!" Hoss yelled.
Footsteps scrambled back to the top of the stairs. "G'night, everybody!" the small boys hollered, then ran back to the bedroom.
The three men chuckled. "Something tells me it's going to be an adventuresome week!" Adam commented.
