Chapter Five: The Quick and the Not so Dead...
"I will not agree to let the heroes go free if they win a rigged contest, even though my advisers assure me it is impossible for them to win." ― The Evil Overlord List
"All right!" the Contest Announcer held his hands up for quiet. "To remind you all: first event is Fast Draw for Speed. Contestants will shoot in groups of five, with contest judges watching and timing. Target will be wooden pins on a table, distance will be seven yards! Winner will be the shooter who clears the most pins with three shots in the shortest amount of time, starting from the holster! Accuracy counts, as you can see – but the objective is speed! Winner gets $50 in Prize money, plus a chance at the Grand Prizes, as do the Runners Up!"
He held his hands up again as the crowd noise began to start up. "And you will note! A single toe beyond the yellow painted firing line will be a Disqualification! All shooters will stand behind the line!" He dropped his hands, and the crowd started up as people began to place side wagers on favorites.
Xander stole a quick kiss from Cordelia for luck, and winked at her.
Let's see. They'd gotten into town early mid morning. Call it, oh, a bit before eight-ish. Bumping into Rory and Bethany. Then time spent stabling the horses, meeting Dude and John T, getting signed in... call it about ten-ish. Gonna have to get himself a pocket watch if they stuck around much longer.
Call it eleven or so, and already it was shaping up to be a grueling day of intense shooting. And he still hadn't had his bath yet. Dammit. At least they'd gotten some breakfast...
At least the very first events had been an elimination round that pared down the contestants from around five hundred to about a hundred worth shooting against, and four hundred also rans and grumbling wanna bees. Five shots at an Ace of Spades at twenty yards and fifty for Target, pistol and rifle. And three shots at fifteen from the holster, or from the shoulder with rifle, speed draw plus accuracy, to clear a table of bowling pins in the least amount of time.
Out of the hundred or so left, Xander was kinda surprised he was still one of them. The competition was fierce – some of these people were good, damned good, with handgun or a Winchester. He tipped an ironic one finger salute to Glenn and Kev at the other end of the firing line. They'd made the eliminations also.
And they'd had baths even, damn them. Xander grinned to himself.
Bowling pins. He vaguely remembered his uncle Rory mentioning something like this from his competition and sport shooting days. Ten groups with ten or eleven shooters per firing line, several judges with stop watches monitoring each group. Cowboy Action Shooting or something like? Hell, he didn't even realize they had bowling pins back in the late 1800's. Maybe they only did in Western movie land...
Xander checked his right hand single action over, spinning the cylinder to check the loads and working the hammer twice. Xander spun the revolver back into the holster and nodded to the judge, seeing from the corner of his eye Vince doing the same next to him as he stepped up to the next spot on the firing line.
For someone who said that he was too rusty to do more than 'get by' with a regular pistol, the man was damned fast and accurate.
"Been a long time since I used a regular handgun," Vince remarked.
Xander shrugged, and said. "They say it's like riding a bicycle."
"Never rode one."
Xander shrugged again. "Can't help you there," he said. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, "Ignoring the elimination rounds and the evidence of my own lying eyes... You any good with one when you did use one?"
Vince smiled. "I got by."
'I'll just bet he did,' Still Small said.
The starter pistol went off, and Xander's hand blurred to the grip of the big revolver...
.
"Not bad, kid," Dude told him, clapping him on the shoulder. Chance nodded, grinning at him, as was Cordelia, with her best thousand watter.
His opponent in the ten and then fifteen yard shoot off for first place, Deke Matthews something or other, looking like a younger James Coburn, glowered at him as he stalked off. Well, fuck him, too. Man was fast, but not as accurate. But still... accurate enough to tie Xander twice for number of pins and speed...
Vince had won the fast draw in grand place. Like he'd said: man was damned fast and accurate with a short gun. Xander'd almost like to see what he could do with that mare's leg.
'Well, except that that'd involve a gunfight, most likely,' Still Small remarked, 'And we'd rather avoid that.'
Yup. Damn straight.
"Good shooting, Xan," Tor Hauer's voice said from one side. Xander glanced over to see him and Heidi walking up to their little group. Cordelia smiled at them, but it wasn't nearly the genuine article...
"Thanks." Xander nodded, taking Tor's outstretched hand. Damn. He'd forgotten just exactly how much sheer sexual impact Heidi Barrie had. She wasn't the best looking girl in Sunnydale, but she made up for it in sheer, uh, animal sensuality. "Heidi."
"Yup," Heidi nodded back, smiling. "Nice work there, Harris."
"And, again, thank yew, thank yew, thank yew verra much," Xander said in his best Elvis impersonation. "But aren't Jack and Kyle gonna have cows at you consorting with the enemy?"
Tor snorted. "Friends with Jack, Harris."
"He doesn't own us," Heidi said –
"Fuck him if he don't like it," Tor finished.
Heh. Xander had also forgotten Tor and Heidi's disconcerting habit of finishing each other's thoughts and sentences, like one mind in two bodies. A knack that had only intensified after the hyena thing...
Xander nodded. Nice to know. "Anyway, we're spectators from here on in," Tor said.
Heidi smiled, "Field's too rich for our blood, yep." She winked at him, "Luck."
"Thanks," Xander said, Cordelia moving up to take his arm on the wink, and smile at the shorter girl. Tor and Heidi had just made it past the eliminations, but had placed far enough back in the actual that it was clear that further shooting on their parts was just wasting ammo.
They were both fast and good, but in this crowd, just fast and good weren't good enough...
They moved off as Rory came up to add his congrats to Dude's, Chance's and Tor's. Cordelia watched them go, a slight frown creasing her brow. "You know," she said, her voice contemplative, "I either like them, or I don't."
"What I love about you: your decisiveness," Xander said, giving her a lopsided smile. She elbowed him just under the ribs.
"You know what I mean." Xander nodded as Cordelia said, "That time I was caught crossing the lot behind Lee Fong's wasn't the first time they stepped between one of us and O'Toole and a beating or worse. Here or there."
Xander nodded again. Meaning here or in their world. He'd never been able to decide, growing up, whether to consider Tor and Heidi enemies like Kyle and Rhonda, or maybe not-quite-friends. Still couldn't...
The Barker called for the next round, Fast Draw Accuracy, and Xander leaned down slightly to grab a kiss for luck, disengaged her hand and moved off.
.
A judge blew a whistle signaling the end of the run, and Xander reined Rasputin in, sliding both pistols into their holsters. He nodded to the judge, and nudged the big horse into a trot to clear the firing course.
Mounted shoot. They'd saved for the last two handgun rounds the two most visually spectacular, for the entertainment of the spectators, after the relatively sedate slow fire target events. Six plywood silhouette targets, two shots each, placed at distances of seven to fifteen yards at intervals around a barrel racing course. Said course necessitating a reload unless you had two pistols... and even then, a reload for some. He'd picked the big appaloosa because he turned tighter and responded better to knee reining and body shifts, even if he wasn't trained as a cutting horse or barrel racer.
Next – and last before the rifle competition – was Aerial or Thrown shooting. Five one and a half inch clay balls filled with red powder thrown high into the air and out, to explode nicely and colorfully when hit. He'd never done this, that he recalled, in either reality – but, hell: it couldn't be much harder than head shooting running jack rabbits with his .32 Rimfire Long Colt SAA as a kid. A kid in this reality, at least...
Shoot off between Vince and Matthews for first place next. Xander was pretty sure he'd nailed Grand on this one. He'd always been a better than decent mounted shot on a good horse.
'Here, anyway,' Still Small agreed. 'Not much opportunity for mounted shooting where we come from.'
Uh huh. Xander reined up and slid out of the saddle, accepting a mug of cool water from a beaming Cordelia. He handed the reins to the kid who was leading off mounts to the horse line, to await him for later in the mounted rifle shoot.
Matthews gave him another glower as he and Vince trotted by on their way up to the course for the shoot off, at two-thirds size and then half sized (if needed) plywood silhouette targets. Well, fuck him again.
"Wow. I'm thinking that man doesn't like you," Cordelia said. "Or Vin."
"Heh." Rory said, laughing. "And small wonder. Deke Matthews' used to being the fastest and best pistolero in Sunnydale County these last three years. 'Ceptin' Dude here and me, of course. And now both Xander and Vince been pushing him awful hard to prove it."
"Yeah," Dude said. "And Matthews, he don't much like having to prove himself, less'n there's a body on the ground after. Especially if he figures the body might stand a good chance of being his."
"Wonderful." Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Just what Xander needs – another enemy besides Jack O'Toole," she said. "Only, like, one who's actually good with a gun."
"Well, that's why he has you to protect him, darlin'," Rory drawled, batting his eyelashes at her.
"Oh?" Cordelia arched an eyebrow at him. "And who protects me?"
"That's what they pay Marshall Dude here the big bucks for," Rory said, grinning.
"Huh? Yeah," Dude said, snorting. "And just who protects me from her?"
"You're on your own there, bud," Xander said, smiling. Cordelia thumped him on the shoulder, huffing.
.
"Congratulations," Vince told him, putting out his hand.
Xander shook it, but raised his eyebrows, "Hey – don't count my prize money before it hatches."
"Nah." Vince pushed his hat back on his head, frowning slightly. "Way I figure it, Garret managed to just squeak by on the Grand Prize. You've nailed first, and I suspect I'm either third or second."
Xander raised his eyebrows again. He'd been mostly concentrating on just shooting his best and staying in – he hadn't really been counting wins or actual point totals towards the Grand, First, Second, or Third in General Pistolero.
'Huh. Let's see... Grand positions are worth five, first three, seconds two, and thirds and shoot offs one each, I think... ' Still Small Voice whistled in the back of his mind. 'Hey – the man with the funny looking gun just might be right.'
Maybe yes, maybe no. Xander noticed that Cordy had the fingers on both hands crossed, Vince's gunbelt slung over one shoulder where she'd been holding it for him. He looked at her curiously, and she huffed.
"Vin best be right. I put good money down on you, Dork Head," Cordelia said.
"What? You mean... there's gambling in Sunnydale?" Xander let his eyes widen comically. "I'm shocked – shocked, I say."
"Oh, shut up," Cordelia told him, rolling her eyes.
"What kind of odds?" Vince asked. She told him, and he whistled softly. So did Xander.
"Hush, now, you three," Rory said. "They're announcing."
Xander nodded. He noted that Matthews and Dewell McKay had moved up to their little group, along with Kevin and Glenn. Made sense. The six of them, along with Chance and a couple of others, were the most probable to be in the winner's circle at the end here.
Deke Matthews smirked at them. "Well, prepare to read 'em and weep, boys."
"That's all right," Xander said, easily. "My fiancée tells me I wanted the money anyway."
Vince nodded. "She did. I heard her."
"You always do what your woman tells you, boy?" Matthews gave him that smirk again. Xander was really starting to dislike that smirk... he reined in his temper and kept his face impassive.
He shrugged, squeezing Cordelia's shoulder, "Only when I want to stay healthy and happy," Xander said. Cordelia grinned up at him.
The main Contest Judge held up his hands and the crowd quieted. "All right, the best hand in the show so far!" He held up a double sized Ace of Spades: "Long Range target, main round shoot offs: Cloverleaf! Five, centered, can be covered by a quarter!"
He held up the next card, Xander's, Xander thought. "And a near cloverleaf at fifty paces! Three centered, one inside, one cutting the inside edge of the spade!"
Followed by another card, Vince's, "And, the Runner up! Two centered, one in, two just cutting the outside edge of the spade!"
There were groans and/or cheers as money began to exchange hands in the crowd.
The Contest Judge said, "Which makes it... " A drumroll began to thrum next to the announcer's podium. "For fast draw, the stranger with the weird gun. First Place shoot off between Harris and Matthews, winner... Xander Harris! Thrown: the Stranger! Mounted: Xander Harris, with 1st Place tie and shoot off – Stranger and Deke Matthews, shoot off to Deke Matthews! Ten paces draw and fire: Xander Harris with fifteen yard shoot off between Harris and Matthews; Winner – Xander Harris! Ten and twenty-five yard target, Harris and Matthews with both shoot offs to Matthews – Grand Winner Deke Matthews!"
Cordelia grabbed Xander's arm and jumped up to plant one on him, grinning and bouncing enthusiastically. Deke Matthews grinned sourly at them.
The Contest Judge held up his hands for quiet again, "Points: 27, 23, 19, and 9; Matthews, Harris, Stranger, and McKay. That makes it: Grand Prize to Deke Matthews of Silverlode Mining!" There were cheers and boos at that. A few more boos than cheers, maybe, but it was hard to tell... "First Prize goes to the new Kid, Xander Harris." A few cheers followed that, more grumbles. Cordelia was one of the cheers, as was Rory.
"And, finally, Second Prize to... what was your name?"
Vince shrugged. "Didn't say. But it's Vince."
The Contest Judge gestured, "Second Prize to the taciturn stranger, Vince!"
Matthews smirked as Rory clapped Xander on the shoulder, and Kevin and Glenn stepped up to him, hands out. "Looks like the best man won," Matthews drawled, lighting a cigarette.
Vince shrugged. "On paper, anyway."
Matthews looked hard at Vince, and said, "Meaning?"
Vince shrugged again. "Paper don't shoot back."
With a snort, Matthews turned on his heel and headed up to the judges table.
With a slight head shake, Vince looked at Xander as he unbuckled Brett Halliday's gun belt from around his waist. "Don't mind him. You did good." He nodded, "Real good."
"Oh, believe me," Xander said, giving Vince a lopsided smile. "I don't mind him at all." He glanced over to one side where Cordelia had moved off a bit to accept money from people coming over to pay off bets, Rory glaring over her shoulder.
Just to keep them honest, Xander would bet.
Nod. "Gonna collect my rig from your lady, and then I'll hunt up Brett and give this back," Vince said, and he moved off. "See you in Rifle."
McKay offered him a hand. "Good shooting," he said. Xander accepted it, nodding.
"You too."
"Not good enough, apparently," the man had the wry smile down pat, but the blue eyes were twinkling. "Still, $50 and a box of .44-40's is better than a kick in the head."
"Sure and it is," Xander agreed. He glared at Kevin and Glenn. "And you! I hate you both."
Glenn jerked, his eyes narrowing. "Oh? And why is that?"
"You got baths," Xander said. "I'd kill for a bath right now."
Kevin held his hands up, palm out. "Let's just back away slowly, partner. Never get between a man and a hot bath."
"Yeah, well, what you get for screwing around," Glenn said, laughing. He stuck his hand out. "Give you a chance to take it out of us in the Rifle Shoot."
"Deal."
Speaking of... Xander sharpened his attention as the contest announcer held up his hand for quiet and got it.
He held up a truly nice looking rifle, turning it slowly over his head for the crowd's viewing. "And in the Rifle Competition: Grand Prize is this brand new Winchester 1876 Commemorative model "One of One Thousand" in .50-95 Winchester Center-fire Express! Limited edition of only one thousand made, and one of the very last ever 1876 Winchesters that will ever leave the Hartford factory! With a Match Grade 30" half-round, half-octagonal barrel, checkered pistol grip stock and fore-end of select grade Eye-tal-yeen walnut! It has a seven leaf folding leaf Express rear sight, graduated, hooded ivory target bead front, a Marble tang sight for long range; engraved Royal Blue barrel, side-plate, and curved lever; and color case hardened frame and fore-end tip!
John T. Chance gave it an amused look. "Everything except a stock mounted coffee grinder."
"That'll be on the One of Twenty-thousand," Vince drawled.
Xander laughed, nodding. Still, nice looking firearm. Not that he needed a rifle – and both of his were just as nice looking.
John T. gave the Winchester that Xander had balanced over his shoulder, barrel forward and held by a hand over the fore end, African carry style, a visual once over. He whistled softly.
"And speaking of," John T. said, "Fine looking weapon there, son. May I take a look, up close and personal?"
"Why, certainly, sir," Xander grinned. He gave Chance's Winchester a look as he jacked open the lever on his to demonstrate it was empty before handing it over. "Trade you – like a look at that one, too."
"Sure." Chance handed his over as he took Xander's in one big hand. "Nice. Winchester '86?"
Xander nodded, opening the breech on Chance's '94 to check the chamber. Empty, good. No need for any accidental discharges.
'Yup. Because there's two types of people in the world,' Still Small said. 'Those who've had an AD, and those who haven't yet.'
Xander grinned at his internal voice. And, nice. Very good figured walnut with a case hardened fore-end cap and curved butt plate. Silvered receiver and barrel bands to the royal blued barrel. And the big loop lever... It had a silver medallion like an oversized silver dollar set into the stock with a raised relief of John T.'s head and shoulders, and the words, "From the Grateful People of El Dorado, Republic of Texas, to John T. Chance, January 31, 1896," engraved around the mounting. The silvered receiver was also engraved with the same slogan, as well as mention of a few other notable places around the west, and a scene of Chance and another man riding together on one side, and a stagecoach and team passing before some buttes on the other. The buck horn rear sight had been removed and the dovetail filled in, and it'd been replaced with a receiver mounted peep sight. There was a folding tang peep sight for long range, as well.
"Huh. .32-40 Winchester Center-fire?" Xander asked. Chance nodded, a bit absently, examining Xander's gun closely.
"Yup." Chance shouldered Xander's rifle, the schutzen butt plate socketing into his shoulder and his cheekbone molding to the cheek-piece as he looked down the sights. "Sweet," he said, taking the gun down and, almost reluctantly, it seemed, trading it back for his. "'Cept for the engraving, this is every bit as nice as our grand prize there."
"Xander won it and the long rifle in a card game in Reno," Cordelia said, sounding... almost proud of him. Xander gave her a bemused look, and a half smile.
"Yeah," he said. "Belonged to an Englishman who had them special made, and then decided the 'Wild Wild West' was a bit too uncivilized for him, don't chew know. So he put them up for stakes when he started losing, hoping to win back enough to get him back to New York." Xander snickered, adding, "He probably ended up walking back to NYC – he couldn't bluff worth a damn."
Cordelia nodded, grinning, and Chance, Dude, and Vince laughed.
Vince gave Chance's Winchester an appreciative once over, and soft whistle. "Yours is a nice looking rifle."
"Thanks."
Dude raised an eyebrow. "That's a bit fancier than the one you used to carry," he said.
"Still have the pair of those, cased up," Chance said, shrugging, "People of El Dorado had it made up and presented to me. One to J.P. Harrah, also."
Dude laughed, "Hell, all I ever got from the people of Rio Bravo was my forty a month and found," he said. "I had to have mine made up for me. Hey – I wired J.P. along with you and Colorado. Kind of expected him. Ramsey, too."
"Well," Chance pushed back his hat, "Don't know about Heck, but Harrah sent me a telegram sayin' he was hung up with something down in Mescalero. And Colorado managed to get hisself killed down in Fort Worth."
"Damn," Dude said. "I liked him. What happened?"
"Got into an argument with Wes Hardin."
"Ouch," Vince said. "I wouldn't argue with Hardin, less'n I had to."
Xander nodded, and said, "Don't mind my asking... What'd you do in El Dorado?"
"Nothing special," Chance said, shrugging. "Killed a few people." Cordelia winced.
Vince asked, casually, "They need killing?"
"Generally."
"Well, there you go, then," Vince said.
Dude suggested, "Try not to kill any here, John T."
"Try not to make me have to," Chance, said, smiling.
Vince said, still looking at the rifle. "Knew a fella a ways back in Lincoln County, near Northfork, who carried a big loop Winchester like that."
"That a fact?"
"Yup. Faster with it than most with a handgun. Was a good man to ride the river with."
"Was?" Xander raised an eyebrow. "What? He run into someone faster?"
"Nope," Vince said, deadpan. "Went and caught a bad case of marriage."
Xander nodded, equally deadpan "Ah." (beat) "That's been the death of a lot of good men, I hear." Cordelia huffed and swatted him one, glaring.
Chance gave Vince's gun a bemused look. "Old Winchester '66 Yellow Boy. Don't see many of those any more."
"Nope."
Chance said, "Good gun in its day."
Vince shrugged "I'm kinda hoping this one's day is still here... "
That got a laugh. "Don't see many of those around any more. Most seem to have traded up to '92's or newer."
Vince said, "Most can afford newer rifles," and shrugged again. "I'm planning to trade up," he said, glancing up at the Announcer.