Father Kit Cool Gun Garth

As Kit lay restless in bed, he could now hear the shouts of various townsfolk, as they were trying to assess the current situation. "Over there at the jail!" exclaimed one person. "Someone get the Sheriff!" yelled another. The overall uproar took over the previously serene quiet of the night. Kit's thoughts went back to yesterday's events, trying to recall exactly what happened out on the range. A single shot, laying on the ground, the appearance of Venus, and then the doc's office. It all seemed a blur, as he vaguely remembered getting help to his room, but after that nothing until these shots rang out. Even with the commotion going on in town, it wasn't long before he fell back off to sleep. Frank "Flapjack" Milt had made his way back to East Fork, still gloating over his recent victory. Heading to the Saloon, he tied his horse up next to the water trough and entered through the batwing doors. Shimmying up to the bar, he pulled several loose coins from his pocket, tossing them onto the counter in a haphazard manner and grunted to the barkeep "Give me a Stone Fence and use one of your finest whiskeys, and best I don't see you water it down either, if you know what's good for you." Slim reached up to the highest shelf on the back wall, grabbing a half filled bottle of Old Kentucky, snatched a whiskey glass from the back counter, turning it right side up and filled it half full in front of the stranger so as not to deceive him. Reaching under the bar with his now free right hand, he... "Hold it right there!" Frank barked, as his right hand suddenly appeared above the bar, revolver already cocked, finger on the trigger. "You best not be reaching for no shotgun!" Slim's eyes grew wide as he froze momentarily, staring down the barrel of a Colt 45. "Just getting some ice," he replied. Frank return his gun to its holster as Slim rose holding two pieces of ice which he now placed in the whiskey glass. Turning around, he grabbed the bottle of cider on the lower shelf and proceeded to fill the remainder of the glass. A quick stir with a spoon and he slid the drink in front of Frank. Grabbing the drink, he turned toward the half-filled room and headed toward an empty table in the rear. Without turning his head, he commanded, "Now bring me one of them free lunches you're offer'in." Pulling the chair out and setting his drink on the table, he quickly scanned the room again making sure he was fully aware of his surroundings should a defensive move be called for. He then sat down, leaning the chair against the back wall, placing his hat on the table, and taking his first taste of his drink. Soon lunch was delivered with a plate of smoked herring, some rye bread, and dill pickles. "Nothing fancy," he thought, "but it's free." Without fear of being recognized, he merely relaxed and enjoyed his drink and food.

In the valley of the jolly....ho..ho..ho...

The sound of gunshots awoke Kit from a deep sleep. Reaching under his pillow for his revolver, he lay attentive in the bed, his room lit up by the moonlight, casting eerie shadows throughout. He knew that any attempt to quickly jump into action would not be forthcoming based on his current condition. Just as he was getting his bearings, two more shots rang out. They were coming from the direction of the jail. This time he decided to cautiously work his way to the edge of the bed, rising to a seated position. His right hand dropped his revolver on the bed as he worked his body upright, holding his left side where the doc had fixed him up. If he wasn't fully awake at this time, the sharp pain in his side made sure he was. Now seated on the edge of the bed, he had a clear view out the only window in his room, of the north side of town. In the distance he could see movement in front of the jail, but unable to determine what was happening, until the sound of a shotgun and its barrel flash caught Kit by surprise. Soon to follow was a single shot and the night became suddenly quiet. Realizing he could be of no assistance in his condition, he eased himself back onto his pillow unable to fall back to sleep, concerned for the townsfolk that may be involved in the shootings, praying for their safety.

"Te tengo hijo de puta!" he exclaimed jubilantly. "I hope the buzzards chew on your sorry carcass for days," he said to himself as he lower the barrel of his Sharps rifle. His perch just below the Mesa provided him with the perfect vantage point with which to spot any rider on the road heading East out of town without spotting him. He liked that the backdrop of the mess made any rifle shot echo difficult to determine its source. On this day though it wasn't just anyone he wanted to kill , it was the preacher man. Placing the rifle in its scabbard, he took a few moments to get a swig of water from his canteen as he reveled in the moment he had been looking forward to for months. Opening his saddlebag he pulled out a faded rolled up piece of paper, holding it against his horse whilst staring at it for a time before reading it out loud, as if anyone could hear him. Glaring at the blurred image of someone who was supposed to look like him, he began to laugh. "If this is what they think I look like, they'll never find me!" "They don't even show the two inch scar on my left cheek I got when I was mauled by a mountain lion. Nor the piece of my right ear that got bit off by some miscreant by the name of Mike Stony during a brawl at a Saloon in Dodge City." "Diablos si me importa, ahora que 'El Predicator' esta muerto," he swore out loud, as he proceeded to tear the paper to shreds, tossing the pieces in the air and watching them scatter with the wind. Satisfied that his work was done, he mounted his horse and headed to town.

And to carry all that... you'll need a MURSE!

https://spaceflightnow.com/2020/09/11/nasa-challenges-companies-to-mine-lunar-soil/

Not a word was spoken on the ride back to East Fork, as Kit was lost in thought as to who may have wanted him dead. When they finally arrived, stopping in front the doc's office, Venus exited the Surrey and began to come around the other side when the doc's assistant, Brodie stormed out of the office onto the boardwalk to assist her in getting Kit out of the Surrey and into the office. "What happened to this stranger, Miss Lardy?" "He was shot and was blessed enough to have not died. He's hurt bad though so I need Doc Waite to check him out." Upon entering the office, the stench of blood permeated the air and Venus found herself covering her nose with her free hand. "My word Charlie, what happened here?" she asked, almost choking on her words. "J. Mark assisted me on a leg amputation on some hombre he accosted at the diner trying to cheat at cards. Sawed the poor guys leg off! What a mess, and Brodie and I haven't had time to get the smell out," he replied apologetically. They then proceeded to place Kit on a clean table so Charlie could take care of his wound. “You sure are lucky, stranger. Though the bullet missed vital organs, it sure torn a couple of nice sized holes in you,” Charlie chuckled, as if to take enjoyment in another mans’ misery. “I’ll sew 'em up, but you’ll need at least a couple of days rest for them to heal properly, and most likely, be in some pain as well.” “Thanks, doc, I……” Kit started to reply. Charlie cut him off midstream. “You needn’t thank me, thank Venus, as she did a mighty fine job of stopping the bleeding.” Charlie turned to Venus, giving her a wink of the eye. “Where you stay’in?” Charlie inquired. “I’ve got a room at the Hotel,” Kit responded. Turning to Brodie, Charlie told him “Once I get him patched up, take him to his Hotel room.” Brodie merely nodded. Looking back at Kit, “I’ll come by and check on you in a day or two to make sure there is no infection.” What few people were in the lobby of the Hotel when Kit and Brodie sauntered in the front door, stopped what they were doing to just stare at the two of them. “Just taking him to his room,” Brodie mumbled to the desk clerk. Once they arrived at his room, Brodie asked if there was anything further he could help with, to which Kit replied there was not. With that, Brodie promptly left the room closing the door behind him.

Looking down at him, a soft smile became noticeable as the edges of her mouth slowly curved upward, lips still pursed, until she spoke. "You are truly one blessed man, Mr. Garth. You've been shot, and by the grace of GOD, avoided death at the hands of some cowardly soul." As he raised his left arm to just above his waist to where he felt the stinging pain, she quickly grabbed it, lowering it back to his side again. "You'll not want to mess with it right now until we can get you to town to have the doc look at it", she insisted. Her touch was ever so soft and all he could do was take in the moment as it were. "How bad is it?" he asked through parched lips. Grabbing the canteen she had sat next to her, she replied as she undid its cap and gave him a drink of water, "The bullet missed its intended target, but not for lack of the shooters accuracy. You see, it ricocheted off the timepiece you had in your vest pocket, piercing the side of your abdomen. I'd say a long range rifle of sorts." "My watch!" he exclaimed, as if that was more important than his condition. "I'm sorry it is completely destroyed," she replied in a solemn tone. She reached into her jacket pocket where she had placed the watch after tending to his wound, retrieving it and showing it to Kit. A sadness fell over him as he stared at the once, magnificently crafted watch with its elaborately engraved etchings, now a piece of metal with a deep gouge on one side. Venus opened the timepiece with its bent, albeit still working latch to reveal the faded black and white photograph of Ann and Joshua. He began to sob, as she placed the pocket watch on his chest, reaching for his arm and placing his hand on it. He immediately placed a death grip on it so as to never have it leave him again. He was doublely blessed this day as Venus had set out this morning to compare the survey and deed descriptions to his paperwork before giving them to him. As she approached the property she heard the rifle shot, not knowing where it came from, but soon arriving where Kit had fallen, laying face up on the ground, Orion watching over him as if to say, "You'll have to come through me before you get to him!" They both waited in the shade of her Surrey until he felt well enough to move, which wasn't long. Helping him into the Surrey, she tied Orion off on the back and they all headed for town.