26 - Dead eye Sam - or Samantha?

     It seems 56 readers are reading regularly, usually within a few hours after posting. I've already changed one segment because of a reader's suggestion. How about the book name? Sam or Samantha? E-mail your vote in.    barbandpat66@suddenlink.net  This is still an open manuscript. Thanks for reading!  Pat

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The shooting range, as it turned out, was not that far away, and would be open for practice every day until the big event. After work that day, Sam went down to the gun store, signed up as Sam Dudley, and paid her entry fee. She also bought three boxes of ammo.

     Sam got the big gun out. She needed to limber it up a little beforehand. When the big day arrived, she was at her peak.

     Thirty-five men were entered. Two hundred yards, shooting at a two foot circle, with a three inch bullseye circle in the middle. Each entrant would shoot three times, followed by a two-shot shoot-off between the top four.

     Sam was a little nervous about this. The owner of the gun shop, Jack Davis, was in charge. All the entrants were called together, for the rules of the match to be explained. Sam walked forward with the men. Mr. Davis glanced at Sam. He seemed a little confused.

      “Ma’am, this here meeting is for the shooters’ only.”

     Now it was Sam’s turned to be confused. “Mr. Davis, I am a shooter.”

     Mr. Davis showed her a list. “This here is th’ Official entry list. See, there ain’t no ladies on this list. This contest has always been for men only.”

     “There’s my name, right there, Mr. Davis. And right there beside it, as it shows right here, my entry fee was paid.”

     “Oh yes, I do recall now. You came in and signed up and paid several days ago. I assumed you were signing up your husband, Sam Dudley. But you see, the official rules allows only men. Sorry about th’ misunderstandin’. Come by Monday morning, and we’ll refund your entry fee.” He turned away and walked off, as if moving on to other business.

     Sam was not about to be so easily put off. She caught up with him. She smiled. “Could I please see a copy of those rules, Mr. Davis”?

     He was getting flustered. “Well, uh, I don’t have a copy of it with me. You see, the rules committee would have to act on that before you could enter. I’m Sorry, ma’am. Now please, I must get on with this meeting.”

     A big man stepped up. “Now, Jack, I been shootin’ ever year, ever since this thing been goin’ on. Nobody ever said a thang about no rules committee. Th’ way I see it, you took her money, you put her name on th’ list, and she’s in. Simple as that.”

     Many of the men in the group around were nodding their heads. Another man spoke up. “Look, there ain’t a woman alive that can stand up ta these here men. If she’s so anxious to get herself embarrassed, let her shoot, th’ way I see it. I ain’t skeered to shoot again any woman.” That seemed to express the general feelings of the group.

     By now, Jack was red in the face. “Okay, allright! If you men got no objection, let’s get on with it. This crowd’s gettin’ antsy. Let’s move on. Each man, er ah, person, will get three shots, prone or layin’ th’gun on that rail. Ever inch you miss dead center is a point again ye. You miss th’ target completely, it’s 15 points. Th’ four with th’ fewest points advances to th’ finals. Two shots each, same scorin’. In case of a tie, th’ two winners have a two-shot shoot off, until somebody wins. After yer called up, you got one minute ta shoot, or yer disqualified. Any questions?”

     Everybody was ready. One by one, they stepped up and took their three shots. Sam noticed the wind was generally just a breeze, with an occasional gust.

     Sam soon realized, these men were top notch. Most put at least one .50 caliber ball inside the three inch circle. Only occasionally did anybody miss the two foot circle completely. After five entrants shot, that target was taken down, with a new one nailed to the big tree. Sam was the last entrant to sign up, so she would, again, be shooting last. Two men had put all three balls in the three-inch circle, only one man had a dead center shot.

     The Judge bellowed out, “Sam Dudley, it’s yore turn!” The crowd, as one might expect, roared with laughter when this slim, pretty lady stepped up, laying her big gun on the rail.