Leaderboard

It is with great sadness that I have to report the passing of SanFernando Slim SASS #20521L, on Monday February 8 2021 due to complications from pneumonia. Please keep his family in your thoughts and prayers. The family will be having a memorial service later in the year when family and friends can attend.

238. MY OWN ROOF "Mama, could you get the door for me?" Sheriff Willamina Keller smiled a little and skipped quickly forward, seized the storm door and hauled it open, pushed open the inner door: she stepped back as her twin brother, Chief of Police Will Keller, carried the luggage in, set it down just inside the parlor to the right. He waited while the pale eyed Linn Keller picked up his bride, kissed her lightly, carefully, delicately on the lips, and whispered "I love you, Mrs. Keller," and she giggled and whispered back "I love you too, Mr. Keller," and Linn paced off on the left and carried his bride across the threshold. Willamina followed them in, closed and latched the storm, closed and locked the solid inner door. "Now that you're home," she said, "Will and I have business to discuss with you both." "Yes, ma'am," Linn replied, his hand finding Shelly's easily, naturally. "Let's take care of necessaries first," Willamina said, sharing one of those unspoken communications between women, and Shelly's eyes thanked her as she scampered out of the room. "I expected her to yell 'Dibs!' " Will murmured. "You're okay?" Willamina asked, looking at her son, whose ears reddened a little, at least until he grinned at his Uncle. "I'm fine, ma'am," he said gently. "If need be I can go out back and water a fencepost." "Please do that before the attorney gets here." "Yes, ma'am." They adjourned to the kitchen ... to the familiar kitchen Linn had known since childhood. He and his sisters often stayed out at Uncle Pete's, and Linn had memories of the man, and good ones they were: Aunt Mary died of cancer some years before Pete breathed his last, but they both left good memories to their following generations. Turns out Pete left more than that. "I lived out here for some time," Will said thoughtfully, "but now that Crystal's gone ..." He took a long breath, frowned, glared at the floor, then looked up at Linn, his expression as fluid as running water: now he was almost smiling, for good memories will push through grief at times, and his did. "Living here after she died was like living in a mausoleum. I rattled around in this place like a rock in a five gallon bucket. Man's going to live here, he'd ought to have a wife." Linn's eyebrow quirked up, his mind busy behind those pale eyes of his, gauging what the man was not saying, or at least trying to. Crystal came down the hall, her heels loud on polished hardwood: she sighed, "That is so much better," and looked around. "What did I miss?" "Nothing yet," Linn said. "Grab a chair." Willamina turned the wheel on the old fashioned coffee grinder -- it was a modern reproduction, and it could turn out a small batch instead of the volumes of the old general-store variety -- the coffee pot was soon gurgling and steaming on the counter, and shortly all four had their hands wrapped around heavy ceramic mugs full of steaming, fragrant friendship. Linn's head turned slightly, as did Will's: Willamina saw both men's move, smiled into her mug: the two were so very much alike -- if they were dogs, their ears would have stood up and swung around at the sound of a car coming up the drive. Linn was on his feet, silent, moving to the front door, a little to the side: he nodded. "Kid Mike," he said, then opened the door in greeting for the newcomer: the two shook hands at the doorway, and Kid Mike, all three hundred plus pounds of neatly suited attorney, came in with his briefcase and his broad smile. Willamina drew a mug of coffee for him, knocked out the grounds and started another batch, and Mike looked at her with frank surprise: he shook his head, looked at Will, at Linn, and admitted quietly "You know how kids in grade school will be so surprised when they see one of their teachers at the grocery store? They kind of think a teacher magically appears in class and disappears into the ether when the school day ends? It's easy to think of the Sheriff like that." He turned, waited until Willamina was done making another batch of coffee, waited until she was seated again before resuming his seat. "That ... I had one of those moments. I don't usually think of the County Sheriff working in the kitchen." "You'd be surprised what-all Mama can do," Linn admitted. "She came wheeling in here years ago with a Pontiac Grand Am and told Uncle Pete the front brake pads needed replaced. He told her he could changed drum brakes and adjust brake shoes and just make the smoke fly, but he'd never so much looked at disc brakes, and Mama laughed and said, "I'll show you!" Linn leaned forward a little, winked at his quietly smiling Mama, and added, "She did, and she made it look easy!" "Never underestimate the power of a woman," the attorney acknowledged quietly, thumbing the catches on his briefcase. Polished brass catches snapped loudly as they released, flipped up: he withdrew two folders, put one back, laid it on the table, reached into his inside breast pocket and withdrew three pens. "I assume we all know why we're here." Will and Willamina looked at one another, then at Linn and Shelly. "Linn," Will said, "I am giving you legal title to this house and property, and everything on it. Livestock, machinery, fences, wells, water rights, mineral rights, the works." Linn's hand and Shelly's found each other, squeezed: Shelly's eyes were big as she looked around, blinking, making a fast change of her mental gears and suddenly realizing -- she had to think in terms of a household, she needed to inventory what she had, she had to arrange a housekeeping schedule, she needed to size up laundry capacity and did she have a clothesline and did they heat with wood or with gas and could Linn work on a gas furnace because her Daddy had to hire theirs done and it was so expensive and -- "Will, if you would sign this, and Willamina, this one." Mike slid the appropriate documents across the ancient, heavy table, the table that had hosted many guests, the table hand made by Charlie Macneil for his beautiful, red-headed bride, and used ever since, in this very kitchen, or one like it: the original structure was far smaller, and what stood now was the result of rebuilds and remodels: Uncle Pete once told Willamina it was like Abraham Linoln's ax, the one that he had out in the woodpile. "It's had about ten handles and three or four heads," he said with that knowing grin, "but it's the same old ax!" "This will surrender all inheritance and other claim to house, property, goods and rights?" Willamina murmured, scanning the document quickly, efficiently. "That is correct." Willamina nodded, looked at her son. "I can't think of anyone better suited to have this place." Linn bit his bottom lip, squeezed his wife's hand, carefully, and she squeezed back. Will and Willamina both uncapped the fountain pens, signed on the dotted line, slid the multi-page documents back to Kid Mike. "This one is a bill of sale," Mike said, "and I understand you are selling all lands, goods, property and rights to this good looking young man here for the princely sum of one dollar." "I am." "Sign here." The pen scratched loudly on good rag paper. "Now, Mr. Newlywed Keller, if you would sign this one" -- Mike slid another document across, to Linn this time, with a pen -- "you will now accept ownership of this land and property, goods and rights, and I will get it filed as paid in full. Your mother is taking care of all fees, you sign, I do the work." Mike waited until the last signature was affixed, the ink dried, before filing the documents back in the cardboard jacket, before slipping the jacket into the briefcase, before closing the briefcase, before rising. Linn and Will rose with him. Kid Mike stepped around the table, thrust his hand out to Linn, who took it unhesitatingly. "Young man," he said, "I received my father's law practice as a wedding gift. You are receiving a gift of great worth" -- he looked over at Willamina, then at Will, then back at Linn -- "and I for one am most pleased to see this property stay in the family." "Thank you, sir." "Aw, now, call me sir, you'll swell my head," Mike drawled with mock bashfulness: he inclined his head to Shelly, then to Willamina, headed for the door, Will going with him. The moment Mike went out, a delivery came in: Willamina skipped happily to the door to lend a hand, and she and Will came back bearing steaming, flat boxes. "We may as well celebrate," Willamina explained, throwing back the lids and releasing the delightful fragrance into the room: "nothing like pizza when you've just inherited a ranch for your wedding present!" Shelly came downstairs in her flannel nightgown and slippers. Linn was just closing the glass door of the gun cabinet. "Quite a collection," Shelly murmured, hugging her husband one-armed. "Everything Uncle Pete had," Linn agreed. "Plus a couple. Every last one ..." His voice trailed off thoughtfully as his eyes walked slowly across blued steel uprights. "Every last one has its story," he said slowly, "and I know most of them." Shelly hugged him again. "Good. You'll need to teach those stories to our children." "Yes." Linn turned, his face serious: bride and groom held one another at arm's length, each assessing what they saw, each trying to gauge what the future would bring, the way a young wedded couple will. "Mrs. Keller?" "Yes, Mr. Keller?" "It is right and proper that a man should have children." "Yes, Mr. Keller, it is." "I believe we should do some planning." "I believe we should." Linn looked around, remembering, then he looked back, drew his wife close, held her for a long moment, feeling her softness, smelling her scent, engraving this moment in his memory, this one happy moment that he never, ever wished to forget. "Mrs. Keller, we are under our own roof this night." "Yes, Mr. Keller, and thank God we are!" Bride and groom kissed, and Shelly giggled, and Linn blinked with surprise. "You're always so delicate," Shelly said, smiling, tilting her head a little to the side. Linn leaned his head forward until their foreheads just touched. "Because you're worth it," he whispered, and then he picked up his bride -- quickly, firmly, the way a man will when he desires his wife, and Mr. Keller's tread as he carried Mrs. Keller up the broad steps was measured, deliberate and unhurried.

salut! Je pense que je suis amoureux de toi, ma chère! Please forgive Le Key Bouquet, his French is abysmal. But he says this to all the girl dogs he meets. :-) STL Suomi

237. DEAD MAN'S CHEST The rental car was almost soundless as they drove to the little regional airport. He handed the keys to a man he knew, he loaded his luggage and his wife's into the Lear: he shook hands with the grinning pilot and thanked him quietly for his kindness. "Hey, I'm flying machine parts out to a drill site anyway," his old and dear friend shrugged, "why shouldn't I offer? Besides" -- he winked -- "call it a wedding present. You paid for one flight and got cheated out of it, why not let me help out, eh?" The lights never went out in Intensive Care. There was always movement: sometimes quiet and purposeful, sometimes urgent and focused: there was sound, always sound: cardiac monitors, the hiss and sigh of ventilators, an IV pump beeping petulantly. There was the sound of a man's hoarse whisper. "My chest hurts," he grimaced, moving a hand toward his breastbone: "who it me?" His daughter smiled, bit her bottom lip. "A complete stranger, Dad." Linn and his bride settled into the contoured seats, fast up their belts: his buddy grinned back at them -- "All good?" and Linn waved a casual go-ahead, then gripped Shelly's hand lightly as the Lear's engines began to whistle, then sing, as the ship started to turn, as she transformed from an ungainly, ground-lumbering metal beast to a swift-running bird, coming up on her toes, then soaring quickly into the night sky. Shelly felt her husband's hand tighten, just a little, and she knew his eyes were just a shade darker. She knew his eyes got less icy, less pale, when he was pleased, and at the feel of being thrust through the atmosphere at an increasing velocity, she knew he was as pleased as a little boy with a new toy car. "What happened?" the man whispered. "Hush, Dad, save your voice," his daughter soothed, and he grimaced, shook his head. "I wanta know what the hell happened to me!" Something white loomed beside him and a man's voice said, "I think I can answer that," and the daughter looked up at her father's cardiologist, grateful for a familiar face in this frightening location. The man felt a familiar hand rest on his shoulder. "Jack, my boy," he heard, "if you had to fall over dead, you picked the right person to fall in front of." "What do you mean, dead?" Jack rasped, grimacing. "And why does my chest feel like I've been stomped on?" "Because you were," the cardiologist said bluntly. "CPR is hard on the ribs and you've got several that cracked under pressure." "Whattaya mean, CPR?" "Dad," his daughter interjected, wringing his hand between hers, carefully avoiding the IV site, "you were dead." The tall, lean, grinning young man in the old-fashioned suit put the lovely, long-skirted woman down, and they held hands as they worked their way through the crowd. Linn and Shelly both froze as a man right in front of them sagged in his chair, turning a dusky color with surprising speed: he started to fall, slumping sideways, and a strong set of hands caught him under the arms, pulled, kicked the chair out of the way, laid him down flat. Saddles reacted out of habit, out of long training. She was on her knees beside him, down listening for breath, practiced fingers pressing into his carotid groove: Linn was on his feet, powering through the crowd, seized a red box hanging on the wall: he shouldered his way back, thumbed the latches and opened it with a vicious effort. Saddles seized the man's shirt, tore it open: Linn snapped open his lockback with a practiced twist of his thumb, ran two fingers under the neck of the supine man's T-shirt, unzipped the shirt down to the belt buckle with a smooth, swift stroke: the knife snapped shut, surprisingly loud in the shocked hush, and Saddles landmarked, planted the heel of her hand on the man's breastbone, laced her fingers together and shoved forward so her arms were vertical-down. She chanted as she compressed, quietly, precisely: Linn peeled the paper off the stickum, placed the pads as he'd practiced and practiced and practiced again: the AED was on, the screen was lit up, and when it started talking, Linn said "Off" and Shelly drew back, coming up on her haunches, quivering like a hound on a hot scent. "Shock advised." Linn reached for the red button, looked around: "Fire one," he said quietly, pressed firmly: the man's body twitched as current screamed through his chest. "Continue CPR." Saddles was back on the man's chest, merciless in her compressions: she'd qualified for ER duty, she was capable of two strokes a second for three minutes with full depth compressions -- such speed was only on doctor's order and only in a hospital setting, but she'd certified and she had the paper to prove it -- her rhythm was steady, her compressions regular, smooth, her voice a confident chant. She shoved the voices aside, the voices that always surround a scene -- did someone call 911, somebody make the call, I already called, they're coming, they're not coming -- Linn raised a hand and Shelly came off the chest again. "Shock advised." "Fire two," Linn declared, mashed the button. Shelly breathed deep, deep again, staring at the box, damning the limitations of the AED, wishing mightily for the EKG strip -- "CPR not indicated," the voice said, and Shelly was back on his carotid. She looked at her husband: "He's back," she said curtly, then seized the man's head, cranked it back again and placed her mouth on his. Linn saw the man's belly rise as his wife blew life into his dead lungs. Another breath. One every five, Linn thought, and he could hear the whistling alarm of an approaching siren. Saddles gave a brief, succinct report to the EMTs: she identified as a Colorado paramedic, witnessed arrest, AED and CPR right away with countershock x 2, no vitals, unknown meds or allergies. They helped load the patient onto the cot. As the squad was BLS -- basic life support -- they took the AED with the patient, promising Shelly they'd bring it back: Linn was busy with a fast canvas, finding anyone who knew the man, connecting them with the EMTs to try and get at least a little information on this Jack Doe. The Lear leveled off, drawing its roar in the cold night air behind it, as Linn sat and held hands with his wife. "Who witnessed his collapse?" the cardiologist asked Jack's daughter, and she shook her head slowly. "I don't know," she admitted. "I know they looked like they stepped out of a Western novel, but ..." She shook her head again. "What'd they do, shoot me?" he father growled. "Feels like they stomped on me or something!"

jus brothers cause me and my wife are their folks. (all 3 are rescues - the littles were just not wanted but toby was hand shy - as if he was struck) breaks my heart how someone could hit a doggie

^^^^^^^^^ ... nasty little child ....

Found another old one of Windy. JHC

SASS Alias: Smoken D SASS #: 39396 Where you are from: Missouri How long you’ve been Cowboy Action Shooting: 17 Years

Hollifer A. Dollar SASS #91847 Greenwood FL 7 years

Alias: Kaya SASS 98924 From Fort Wayne, IN Started shooting five years ago with the Paradise Pass Regulators