Part Nine - Dead eye Sam

     As Sam placed her gun on the post, the gasps turned to laughter. “A kid? Sam Dudley is a kid?”

     Some men got mad. “Are we turnin’ this here contest into a sideshow??” The judge waved them all down, and Sam slowly went about her business. The big gun was in place. Sam licked her thumb and put it up into the air. A gentle breeze stirred. As Sam prepared to squeeze off, the wind picked up just a little more. Sam Stopped, and again wet her thumb and put it up into the air. Many laughed, others were getting angry. “Git on with it!” The judge tried to wave them down, but was not completely successful.

     Sam slowly squeezed the trigger, as a crowd gathered around Fred, congratulating him. The big gun boomed, and the crowd quieted. The field judge laughed, shook his head, and hollered out, “Two inches right of dead center!!”

     Not a sound was heard for a moment, surely the judge was making a joke. But no. The crowd interest increased tenfold. This kid was a serious competitor, shooting against Taledega County's best!

     As Sam prepared for her second shot, the wind picked up. She waited, with her wet thumb in the air, but it only got worse. Finally, the crowd was only getting louder, and the wind was still gaining in strength. She squeezed off. She knew immediately she had made a mistake. She should have waited. She had let the crowd rush her.

     The crowd waited. The judge bellowed out, “three inches left of dead center.” 

     Again the crowd gasped. “That Dudley kid is dang good!” Shock and surprise registered on many faces.

     Sam was doing her math. Nothing could save her now. Nothing short of dead center, and the wind was still blowing. Maybe her cap was throwing her off just a bit, she usually practiced without a cap on. Sam readied the big gun, but there was just too much wind for a good shot. She needed to kill a little time, maybe the wind would settle a bit. She slowly removed her cap, and the prettiest, brightest red hair anybody had ever seen flowed down around her shoulders, waving in the gentle wind. The crowd went instantly silent. Finally, someone shouted, “Lookie thare! That kid Sam’s a girl!!” The crowd went so wild, the judge didn’t even try to settle them. Sam stuck up her thumb, but she knew it was hopeless. Too much wind. She had to kill a little time, somehow. She decided to have a coughing spell to kill more time. The crowd was getting unruly. More coughs. Suddenly, a strange thing happened.
CONTINUED IN FOUR DAYS. Thanks for your time and your attention.  Pat

Forever A Hillbilly: Part Eight - Dead-eye Sam

Forever A Hillbilly: Part Eight - Dead-eye Sam:       Sam was excited when Slim laid out his plan for her. This played right into her long-ranged plan. And, being alone was perfect; thi...

Part Eight - Dead-eye Sam

      Sam was excited when Slim laid out his plan for her. This played right into her long-ranged plan. And, being alone was perfect; this would be the chance to make some friends in town. Sam was already realizing; someday, somehow, she had to get away from the Dudley clan. And having friends in town could someday help her do just that. And, everybody around, Clan and town folks alike, would know just how good she really was with the big gun. This would mean, Sam would never have to shoot anybody!
     Sam did not plan to just do well. She planned to win.

     Millie wanted to go along with Sam to the shooting match, but Slim said, “No! Sam’s been livin’ in yer shadow too long already. And besides, it might be dangerous for you. I heard about you shoot’en at that man last week, who was not even on Dudley land. Didn’t think I knew about that, did ye? He mighta saw you. That Marshal gets his hands on you in town, they just might hang ye. And if you do that again in Taladega County, I’ll hang ye myself.”                

     Sam spent every day leading up to the big match honing her skills on the shooting range. When the big day arrived, and Sam rode Old murt into town, she was at her peak. Once she got to town, Sam let her true personality come out, finally. They all knew she was a red-haired Dudley girl, but many began to realize, she was just not like the other Dudley’s. She paid her entrance fee Slim had given her, and awaited her turn.

     This was a major event. Everybody knew, the War was almost upon them. Most of the men would soon be leaving to join the war effort. Everyone had been practicing up. They all realized the South had far fewer men than the dern Yankees. Every shot had to count – only the best shooters would be coming home at the end of this war. And the very best shooters in Taladega County were entered today. The target would be a twelve inch circle. Range, two hundred yards. Each shooter would get three shots. Free standing, or resting the gun on a post, which everybody did.

    The shooting began. Each man took his turn. Sam noticed early on, these men were good. The fifth man came up. It was Fred Williams, who everybody knew had a reputation as the best shooter in Taladega County.

     He slowly squeezed the trigger. The judge walked to the target, and bellowed out excitedly, “dead center bulls eye!!” The crowd went wild! The wind had been perfectly still during that first shot, but began to pick up a little. He took more time with the next two, which were each a few inches off dead center.

     Slowly, man after man shot. There were thirty in all. Number five, Fred Williams, was still in the lead, but two others had hit dead center also with one shot. But their other two shots were not as good. One of them missed the target altogether as a stiff breeze picked up. Finally, all the men had had their turn. Someone hollered, “Fred Wins again!” a big cheer went up from Fred’s family.

     The judge waved them down. “No, we have one other entry here.” Then he laughed, and hollered loudly, “Sam Dudley, come on up!” A collective gasp spread through the crowd as Sam walked forward, carrying the big gun, a few short strands of her bright red hair waving below her cap in the gentle breeze.

Forever A Hillbilly: Dead-eye Sam - Part Seven

Forever A Hillbilly: Dead-eye Sam - Part Seven: Part Seven      Millie braced the big gun on a post, got in position to fire, then wet her thumb, sticking it up in the air. “You ha...

Dead-eye Sam - Part Seven

Part Seven

     Millie braced the big gun on a post, got in position to fire, then wet her thumb, sticking it up in the air. “You have to learn to sense the wind blowing on your wet thumb. You have to know how much to allow for wind. This new buffalo gun is made to shoot a long way. You have to learn how much the bullet will drop in two hundred yards, or however far away your target is. See those three pumpkins I set up out there?

 They’re about head sized. Watch that middle pumpkin. You need to learn to do this. Just watch.”

     Millie carefully sighted the target in, held her breath, and slowly squeezed the trigger. The middle pumpkin exploded.

“OK now Sam, it’s your turn. We’ll move up to the hundred yard marker for today,” Millie said. “A good place to start.”

 That gun will kick, but the stock is padded. Hold it tight against you shoulder. There’s almost no wind now, and the bullet will drop less than the length of your little finger. Squeeze the trigger, don’t jerk it. Aim at the left pumpkin.”

     Samantha was scared. She was shaking. This gun was far too big and heavy for her, but she tried. The first try nearly kicked her down. Dust was kicked up four feet or so to the left of the pumpkin, and was way short.

     Millie’s instruction went on and on, with each shot being analized, and corrections made. Samantha never hit a pumpkin that day, but she was slowly getting closer.

    “OK, Sam. That’s enough for today. Your shoulder will be sore for a day or two, but we’ll come back in a few days. You’re getting better.  And you will get better each time. I’ve got confidence in you. Good Job.”

     Samantha was thinking, I’ll work as hard as I can with this gun. I will get so good with it, I will never have to shoot at anyone. And I will show everyone how good I am, every chance I get, so they will all know. It’s my only way out.

     Millie had been right. Samantha did get better every time with that big gun. There never seemed to be a shortage of ammunition around for that big gun, and every member of the clan was encouraged to use as much as they wanted.

     Slim told them, “Our clan will only survive if we are all experts with that long-ranged gun. This country is moving toward war. I hear that Southerners who don’t join up ta fight are being forced ta fight or be hung. Well, nobody can force us to fight. If they kaint safely get within 300 yards uv us, without having a rifle ball put in their dang heads, how can they force us to do anything?”

     “This here war will be good for us. With all th’ farm and plantation men gone, off ta fight, our job will just be that much easier. The South will lose this fight, in th’ long run. They don’t have enough men. Our market will start to dry up, as the South gets all beat down. We gotta hit’um hard th’ first year, get all th’ money saved up we’ll ever need, then we can jest sit back, an’ watch th’ dang fools kill each other. This here war will make us rich, if we jest play our cards right, an’ ever body gets good enuf with our big gun.”

     “ We got all th’ ammo stashed away we’ll ever need. I wanta see ever last one uv our young’uns practicing ever day. You’ll answer to me if ye don’t.” And everybody knew exactly what that meant. Get good with that gun or die.

     Slim had been exactly right, on every count. His prediction was right on. Things with the war, as it later proved out, played out just as he said. Slim was very, very smart. And nobody knew that better than Slim.

     Samantha was very smart, as well. This all played right into  her plan. She went to the range every day. Before long, Millie was getting burned out on training Samantha. So, Samantha went alone. By the time she was eleven years old, about the time the Confederacy was forming, she was better than Millie. Others at the shooting range were beginning to tell tales of her skill with the big gun. Even Slim was noticing.

     “That durned kid Sam is jest flat good. She’s by far the best uv the youngn’s, and most uv th’ men. She can bust a punkin almost ever time at 300 yards. Funny thang, though. I send her out to get a mess uv squirrels, and she always comes back empty handed. She ain’t no good as a hunter, but I’ve got somethin’ else in mind fer her. “

     “Folks in town are all rowled up about goin’ ta war. They’s a big shootin’ match comin’ up in town next week. I’m agona send her in, by herself, to enter that contest. If she can do good, which I know she can, it will show those townies that even an eleven year old Dudley girl is a better shot than mosta them. And they will know, we’s all better than they are. So, they will all be too scairt to come out here, on Dudley land, ta wrangle us about joinin’ th’ war. That’ll give us a free pass. They’ll leave us alone.” Even Slim just had to smile; this may be his best idea ever. He was so wise, and, of course, he knew it. “But that thare name, Samantha, it’s gotta go. From this day farward, nobody calls her anything but Sam.” And nobody in the Clan ever did. They all liked the idea of staying alive far too well to cross Slim.

Forever A Hillbilly: Part Six - Dead-eye Sam

Forever A Hillbilly: Part Six - Dead-eye Sam: Part Six      When Samantha was eight, Millie told her she had something very special to show her. They mounted the horses and ro...

Part Six - Dead-eye Sam

Part Six

     When Samantha was eight, Millie told her she had something very special to show her. They mounted the horses and rode a long way, must have been at least half a mile. As they came over a hill, Samantha could see a long, narrow canyon ahead. It was very deep. A beautiful stream meandered along the right side of it, with a flat, grassy meadow to the left of the creek. A long, very crooked and steep trail led to the bottom. Even on Old Murt, Samantha was very scared as they wound along the trail, deeper and deeper. The trail was worn deeply into the canyon wall, showing that it had been traversed thousands of times.

     “This canyon is so deep, the sounds of the shooting does not carry out of it very well. We can’t even hear it at the Compound,” Millie explained.

     Soon they were in the lush meadow. It was long and straight. A small cabin stood at the near end of it. At the far end, Samantha could see several brightly painted objects shaped like a person, and they appeared to be about the size of a grown man.

     “This meadow is three hundred yards long,” Millie said. “This is our shooting range. Our family is surrounded by bad, dangerous people. We have to learn to protect ourselves. All us Dudley’s, men women and children, learn to be experts with this gun.”

     Millie pulled out a very large, long rifle from her saddle scabbard. Samantha had seen many of these large guns back at the compound. She had noticed that when any adult leaves the compound, they almost always carried one of these guns.

     Millie explained. “As we get older, and deal with big men, men who know how to fight, all the tricks I’ve shown you with the boys won’t work. And we can’t beat them. They’re stronger. All these people around us from the outside want to hurt us, even kill us.”

     Samantha was getting a very bad feeling about this.

     “Every one of us, even a girl, must get very accurate with this gun. So that when bad men who come onto our land, planning to hurt or kill us, they will know that we are able to take them out long before they can get close enough to hurt us. Most of these bad people surrounding us already know that, so they usually stay away from our land.”

     Samantha burst into tears. “But I don’t want to hurt anybody! I hate guns! I never want to even hold one! All they are good for is hurting people!” Please don’t make me touch that thing!”

     Millie put the gun aside, and hugged Samantha. Millie realized this was not going to be easy. “We have many needs for this gun, and this skill. Don’t you like the meat you eat back at the compound? How do you think we get that meat? We Hunt! And we all get very good at it. When we get good enough, these mean people around us realize they must never come here. If you work hard enough with this gun, and get to be the very best around with it, people will soon know, and you will never have to shoot this gun at a man. It’s just like fighting with the big boys at the compound. Don’t you remember how they are afraid to wrestle me? They know I can hurt them, and they leave me alone. They’re even beginning to leave you alone, simply because they know you know all my tricks. All you ever have to do, mostly, is bluff. Isn’t that true, Sam?”

     Samantha was still sniffling, but she had to admit, that was true. It did seem that the more the boys respected her abilities, the less she had to actually wrestle one, which Samantha completely detested.

“Let’s go in the cabin. There’s always snacks and drink there. We’ll rest a bit, and I’ll show you how this gun works.”

     While they ate snacks and rested, Millie started showing her the mechanics of this gun. Samantha was thinking about all this. She did not know if she could ever get good with this gun, but it was seeming like that may be her only out of having to shoot at a man, like her family seemed to be all about. And what about her name? Samantha sound like a sissy, girlish name. Would people respect the abilities of Sam more than Samantha?

     For her demonstration, Millie chose to shoot from two hundred yards. Continued, four days. Thanks for reading.