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  2. Not for all of us, Rooster! welcome back Highwall. Some of us ain’t got no faster but still have a ball playin’ cowboy.
  3. If I was bit by a brown recluse and began to develop tissue necrosis, I wouldn't have to think hard to get to the doc....
  4. Charlie MacNeil 7-20-12 "Darlin', we're goin' back to Denver for a couple of days." As he handed Sarah's note to Fannie, Charlie's tone was that of someone being sentenced to torture. He'd had enough of Denver to last him a lifetime before he retired from the Marshal's service and he was overwhelmingly happy to live as far from so-called civilization as he currently lived. On the other hand, he knew that his lovely bride occasionally missed the bright lights and the hubbub of the city, the hustle and bustle of busy humanity. Consequently, he was resigned to the fact that Fannie would be shopping; he planned to hide out somewhere dim, quiet and sociable as much as possible as shopping, except for necessities such as powder, bullets and such, was not exactly his forte`. Charlie's reply to Sarah's invitation was brief and to the point: "Try and stop us."
  5. There was no transfer bar back then, so gunman usually would transfer the notches to a new gun.
  6. Linn Keller 7-19-12 To His Excellency the Mayor -- I thank Denver for the great honor which is bestowed upon me by your kind invitation, and I am most humbled by your most generous words: I very much regret that my several responsibilities preclude my accepting on such short notice. If I might beg a week's indulgence I would be very much in your debt. I shall accordingly plan to be very much at your disposal one week from the appointed date. Sarah "Do you think this will pass muster?" Sarah asked, handing the note to Levi, then to the Sheriff, and then to her mother. The three read her exquisite penmanship, her carefully chosen words; all three nodded: the Sheriff's eyes were light when he looked up. "Just right," he nodded. He and Levi exchange a look; both men nodded, once. Bonnie, too, expressed her approval: no lady -- no Lady -- wishes to have short notice on a matter of such import, especially when the Lady will be in the public eye. "Sarah." Sarah looked at her father. "Start writing." Sarah quirked an eyebrow, and Levi stifled a smile, for the involuntary twitch was so very much like her father. "We want every one of your students there. "We want Emma Cooper and Parson Belden there with his wife. "Were it possible we would empty the town to be there with you. "Could we arrange it, Birnham Wood would most certainly to high Dunsinane Hill march!" The Sheriff shifted his weight in his chair; at Levi's concerned look he grinned, "Mileage." "But of course that's not possible." "We may not have to," Levi murmured, and the Sheriff could see the gears turning behind the good looking agent's dark eyes. The Sheriff smiled his wolflike smile. "I like the idea," he said quietly, and Sarah looked from one man to the other, knowing some subtle communication had just passed between the two, and she had no clue what it was nor how it was transmitted. "For this occasion, let Denver see that Firelands is proud of its first daughter! Emma Cooper and your students, then, and anyone the town can spare." Sarah smiled a quiet little smile and opened a drawer, took out a half-sheet of foolscap: placing it precisely on the felt writing surface, she dipped her pen, wiped the excess on the inside of the ink-bottle's narrow neck. She knew without hesitation to whom her first invitation would be written. My dear Uncle Charlie, Might I beg your and Aunt Fannie's presence in Denver, one week from tomorrow, where His Honor the Mayor wishes to bestow upon me their recognition for my Efforts in the recent Fire which destroyed the Professor's Academy building. You have taken pains with my Education and you deserve to know some of the fruits of your Effort. Sarah She placed this first sheet aside to dry, withdrew another, dipped her pen again.
  7. Matthew Duncan, we still have room for a few good people down here in Atlanta. come move down, be close to your family, and shoot with us - and bring HD. the weather is great, the taxes are low, and the gun smoke is AWESOME !
  8. HD, This is some sad news. As others have said, take some time and reflect on what you enjoy the most about CAS. Hopefully you can find a way to continue that enjoyment. Sometimes we can get overly enthusiastic about something and after that initial enthusiasm starts to fade it seems like we dont enjoy it as much anymore. Maybe after some time you will feel that enthusiasm start to rebuild. Don't make any hasty decisions just yet. I enjoyed meeting you in Kansas last year and hoped we could shoot together again. Take care, pard.
  9. General Patton notched his Colt SAA .45 for the two men he killed with his Colt but didn't notch his S&W .357. Patton got his S&W in 1935 and after he'd already notched his Colt. In the Shooting USA video below, the part about Patton's Colt SAA and the notches starts at 5:50 minutes.
  10. Linn Keller 7-18-12 Sarah was quiet through the noon meal. Bonnie was over from the dress-works and Levi had finished his own work; the Sheriff was clearly less than comfortable, but he tried to hide his discomfort, and his hosts were kind enough to ignore the signs he was attempting to conceal. The meal was simple but satisfying; the Sheriff ate ... carefully, Sarah thought, analyzing the man and his injury. The twins, bright-eyed, ate with a ladylike decorum; what little conversation they offered was carefully polite, because they had Company, and they wished to be praised for being Proper Young Ladies, as the Sheriff invariably did. Polly was the more restless of the two, swinging her legs unseen under the table. Finally Sarah broke her silence. "I am invited back to Denver," she said without preamble. Five sets of eyes were on her instantly. The Sheriff set down his fork and picked up his napkin; blotting, then stroking his mustache, he swallowed, replaced the napkin in his lap. "Go on," he said in the voice he reserved for discussing a case. Bonnie blinked, looked quickly at Levi: Levi's head turned a few degrees so he could regard the greying lawman seated directly across from his daughter. "I am to be presented with the key to the city." There was a hint of irony in her words; the Sheriff listened closely, searching for any trace of pride. There was none. He heard ... almost ... resignation? His eyes raised to hers and he nodded, once. Bonnie saw her husband's head turn a few degrees: his eyes were serious and she knew that he was less a husband and father in this moment as an agent -- one who knew the ins and outs, the political winds and currents, that infested Denver. "I was sent several editions of their newspaper," Sarah continued. "I am called the Angel in Grey, the Avenging Teacher, the Mountaineering Miss. "I have, to date, received no less than four proposals of marriage, three offers of a speaking engagement, and two requests for personal appearance at their lecture-hall." The Sheriff weighed her words, as did Levi. Sarah, herself, weighed her heart. "I take no pride in this," she continued, and the Sheriff's ear drew back a little as if pulled by an invisible thumb-and-forefinger: "I did no more than any would do." Both the Sheriff and Levi each raised an eyebrow; their eyes met, and had each man lacked years of practice at suppressing an expression, they might have burst out laughing at her pronouncement. "Your intentions?" the Sheriff asked quietly. "I shall go there and be invested with their proclamation," she said, raising her chin: "I shall then come home." "You are not going alone," Bonnie said after a moment. Sarah's eyes were a noticeable shade less blue. "Going alone would be most unwise," she agreed. "I shall need suitable escort, and if it is not too great an imposition, I would have both my fathers with me." Levi looked at the Sheriff. "Are you up for this?" he asked. "We're talking about my daughter," the Sheriff replied. "I'm up for it." "Your daughter?" Levi asked, a dangerous tone in his voice. "I believe I may have claim." Bonnie's lovely eyes widened in alarm. Of all the possibilities she'd considered, she never considered her husband and the Sheriff becoming adversaries. "All the more reason we should both go," the Sheriff said flatly. "I agree." "You expect trouble." "I always expect trouble," the Sheriff grinned ... a lean, wolfish grin, one that chilled Bonnie enough to make her shiver a little. "I always expect trouble. If it comes, I am ready, and if it does not, I am pleasantly surprised." "Ben Franklin," Sarah said, her schoolteacher's voice matter-of-fact. The Sheriff's wolflike grin softened into the smile they remembered. "Yes, ma'am." "And just when," Levi asked, "do they crave the honor of your presence?" Sarah turned her head to look directly at Levi. "I received their missive this morning," she said, "with the most recent newspaper. They wish to bestow this honor tomorrow at noon." Sarah felt the ghost of a cautioning weight on her shoulder, as if an ethereal hand, placed in warning, then it was gone. Sarah examined the documents with satisfaction. She was on her way to being ... not wealthy, but well enough off to be independent, should the need arise. She hoped most heartily that the need never arose. Sarah arranged to invest in a number of mercantiles, a number of dry goods suppliers and hardware stores, almost all in gold camps or gold mining areas: these were by their very nature short lived investments, as boom towns and gold camps never lasted -- well, a few did, but pitifully few -- still, she examined her bank statement with satisfaction. I listened to you, Uncle Charlie, she thought. Your advice is bearing fruit. Sarah folded the statements, replaced them in their envelopes, placed the envelopes in her desk, locked the desk: her mother knew where she kept the key, but the twins did not, and Sarah had no wish for the twins to play Post Office or Schoolteacher with the contents of her desk. She chose her outfits carefully. She would need the grey schoolmarm's attire for the presentation, for they knew her as the Schoolteacher. Perhaps a spare, just in case. She would need a gown for other functions: dinner, the theater or the opera. And she would need her black outfit, in case there were need for ... other situations. "Sheriff?" Levi asked as the two men investigated brandy in Levi's new office. "Hm?" The Sheriff looked up from whatever profound revelation he'd found in the bottom of the snifter. "Sheriff, let me ask ... the advice of a father." The Sheriff nodded. Both men seated themselves, settled into comfortably upholstered chairs. Levi stared into the fascinating depths of the rippling brandy as he swirled it slowly, considering. The Sheriff sipped his, watching Levi through concentric ripples in the hand blown glass. "How did all this happen so fast?" Levi whispered, spreading his hands. The Sheriff leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Levi, here's how it looks." He took a breath, pursed his lips and thrust out his jaw. "My little girl died on her second birthday and I tried to keep her -- here" -- he tapped his breast bone. "I tried to keep her forever healthy and beautiful and two years old. "Didn't work. "Little girls don't stay two years old, Levi." The Sheriff took another sip, savoring its sting, its burn, its bouquet. "Little girls become bigger girls and big girls and finally young ladies and then ladies, but they don't stay two years old." The Sheriff took a longer drink, set down the empty snifter. "Sarah taught me that. "She helped me let go, Levi. She helped me heal. "Your twins are growing and fast and so did Sarah. How did it happen so fast, I couldn't tell ye, but I can tell you this." He raised a finger for emphasis. "Sarah helped me heal. "Not with any wisdom or philosophy, not with any profundities or insight or glimpses of Eternity or divine lightning bolts of knowledge. "She did it just by being Sarah. "She helped a grieving father heal." Levi picked up the brandy-bottle; the Sheriff shook his head, smiled his thanks. "If she never did one more thing in her lifetime she would have that crown in Heaven." Levi nodded. "What can we expect in Denver, Levi?" Levi drained his own snifter. "Perhaps nothing, Sheriff. Perhaps nothing but the presentation, a boring speech, a mediocre dinner, a parade, the key to the city, a brass band and a restless night's sleep afterward." The Sheriff nodded. "Perhaps you're right." The Sheriff stood. "I'm going, Levi. I dare not do otherwise." Levi stood. "I as well." The Sheriff stuck out his callused paw. "From one father to another." The two men solemnly shook hands.
  11. I have a couple. Put 17 lb Wolff springs in them. They work fine on Remington ThunderBolts and their Golden Bullets. Also some bulk pac Federals and std velocity CCIs.
  12. Several houses near me have a similar setup. The pipe near the street is a second clean out.
  13. Not any longer. My sewer lines are white PVC.
  14. I'm looking for some additional ROAs (fixed sights) to marry with some single ROAs I've recently bought. I'm trying to match two guns, one 5 1/2 SS and one 5 1/2 SS with a 45 LC cylinder, and make two new pairs - one for BP and one with 45 LC. I think every ROA should have a mate - don't you ? and if you have any other ROAs (fixed sights) to offer, please let me know. Get them out of your gun safe and let me shoot them ! T square.
  15. Wow ! I would not have believed it . If I did not watch the whole thing . So Saith The Rooster
  16. Linn Keller 7-17-12 Jacob's eyes were very pale and he was breathing heavy. The other man was on the ground, bleeding, trying to move. Jacob looked around, half-crouched, teeth bared: he turned in a slow, full circle, perfectly willing to rip someone's head off and stuff it down their bloody neck backwards. He turned back to the man laying crosswise of the trail. Jacob slammed the heel of his hand into the man's breastbone, hard, grabbed a good twisted-up handful of shirt front and hauled the choking offender to his feet: turning, he slammed him into the trunk of a nearby pine tree, hard, bouncing the man's head against the bark. A few odd needles rattled off Jacob's shoulders and landed in his hair. The man that decided to resist arrest was resisting no more. Jacob's blood was up. Right about now he could have picked up the man's saddle horse and packed it off, had he a mind to do so, but instead he walked over to the man's mount, caressed its neck and its nose and took its reins: still carrying the now-unconscious offender left-handed, he turned the horse so its flank was up against the same tree he'd used to pacify his prisoner, then with a quick thrust, heaved the man over his own saddle, belly down. Another few moments and he had the offender's boots off, then tied wrists to ankles: Sarah gave him the idea of divesting the prisoner of his boots, and Jacob was never one to throw away a good idea just because a girl give it to him. Jacob wiped at his dripping nose; the back of his hand came back red and wet. He tied off the offender's horse to a branch, stomped over to the stream and looked around again, cold eyes glaring: seeing nothing, he knelt quickly, scooped up a double handful of water, washed his face, sniffed some up his nose: he frowned, for his bashed beak was still tender, and a quick exploration showed his teeth intact, his lip bruised and tender and a small cut under one eye. Jacob glared at the unmoving figure bent over his own saddle. "Mister," Jacob said, his voice full of menace, "you made a big mistake." Jacob scooped another double handful of water, took a sip, took another: he rinsed out his mouth, spat blood; rinsed again, swallowed. He stood, his hands going to the bullet gouge at his right hip. The man tried to gut shoot him, close-up, rather than submit to the arrest warrant: Jacob's fingers explored the 44-caliber ditch gnawed out of his belt just above his right hand holster. "I hate hangin' folks," he muttered, "but by God! you earned it, mister!" So saying, he gathered his Appaloosa stallion's reins, mounted: untying the attacker's reins, he pointed their noses toward Firelands and the county lockup: though Jacob's eyes were busy, his mind was beginning to formulate the wording of his report. His Honor the Judge liked a concise, well written report. A stray thought wandered in from someplace unrelated. I wonder how Pa is feelin'. Poor fellow, he's probably layin' in bed feelin' like someone's tryin' to hammer their way out of his skull from the inside. Brother William leaned his staff into the corner and bowed a little to Mr. Baxter. "Might I trouble you for a beer," he asked quietly, "and perhaps a sandwich." Mr. Baxter drew a beer for the cleric, sliding it across and accepting the coin: Daisy's girl was at the man's elbow in a moment, and Brother William stood at the bar, one sandaled foot on the gleaming, polished and somewhat scratched up brass rail. There were a few glances, an elbow pressed into a neighbor's ribs: it was not often the clergy visited such a place of sin, vice and shameful deportment, but the man was obviously enjoying his small meal and a beer, and not a man there but didn't appreciate the value of both -- not only for nutrition, but because everyone there at one time or another had been hungry enough to chew on an old boot top, and dry enough to drink out of a cow track. Matter of fact, most there had done the latter and threatened the former. Brother William savored the beer, letting the cool amber rehydrate his dry throat: he'd been some time on foot, having walked most of the way from the monastery: he could have ridden, or driven; a passing teamster gave him a ride for several miles, shamelessly entertaining the dusty, white-robed monastic with several bawdy, off-color and equally off-key drinking songs. Brother William, laughing with the man, pounded him happily on the shoulder. "My friend," he declared in a loud voice, "one should never place one's immortal soul in danger by singing songs of this kind," and so saying, began singing in a fine tenor a particularly naughty marching song, one the teamster recognized and in which he enthusiastically joined: when they finished, the teamster smote Brother William a companionable blow on the back and declared, "Father, I didn't know ye were Irish!" Brother William laughed, his hood thrown back, and sunlight shone off his gleaming, bald tonsure: "Didn't ye know, lad, only an Irishman can carry a proper tune!" The teamster saved Brother William at least a day's travel; at the roadway's fork, the two shook hands and the teamster said, "Father, it's only a good Catholic priest that understands us poor workin' men!" Brother William jumped from the wagon, landing easily; he planted his staff, turned and nodded. "It helps," he said, "if the sky pilot was a workin' man a' some time i' his life!" Now, in the welcome hubbub of the Silver Jewel, Brother William finished his sandwich and drained the last of his beer, feeling the liquid soak into his soul. He set the mug down, declined a refill: he leaned a little toward Mr. Baxter and admitted, "I think I'll live now," bringing a laugh from the barkeep, then he turned, nodded toward Dolly just stepping onto the stage, and headed for the front door. He wished to see his old friend at the Mercantile before making his usual visits.
  17. Last year the Best Shoot was the best ever. This year it is promised to be even better. Close and fast targets and easy to understand sequences combined with a little bit of old school type fun. (Mostly off the clock) You may have to rescue grandma There will be coins tossed into a spittoon Knife throwing Cannon shooting A little Acey Deucey Shooting chicken for dinner A little high grade mining The stages are in progress..... So mark you calendars for May 02 and 03 to be in Boulder City Nevada with the Eldorado Cowboys. https://eldoradocowboys.com/index.html
  18. That’s good news, overall. I am glad you’re healing up. I hope and pray things keep going well and you heal up quickly. I have to set up an appointment for my own wrist surgery. I had to put it off due to my bike crash last summer.
  19. I've got lots of Jet loaders and Safariland comp II and III's for K Frames, But I was hoping to buy a couple L frame loaders. Anybody?
  20. HD you are a standup cowboy and we all would hate to lose you. Please give it some time for reflection before you make a decision. Ace
  21. Linn Keller 7-17-12 I woke up regretting I'd ever pulled Sarah onto my lap. A hay bale with a blanket over is normally not an uncomfortable seat. A thirteen year old on the lap, leaned up ag'in my chest so all the weight was on my backside ... for the short term it's not at all uncomfortable and I reckon she was just fine. I wasn't. It was near to noon or so my belly said and I was kind of dry, and I opened my eyes and Levi was looking down at us and he had kind of a soft expression about him: he raised a finger to his lips and I wished for a moment to see Sarah and I from his perspective. Levi squatted and put his lips to my ear and whispered, "Don't move," and I turned my eyes toward him. He drew back a little to see my reaction. I raised one eyebrow -- a question -- and Levi bent close again. "She has not slept well for some nights now," he continued. "This is the most peaceful I've seen her." I could smell vittles eddy in behind him and I figured that's why my stomach was threatening to take a crosscut saw to my back bone. Sarah had the blanket pulled down to her own lap level, pulled it down in her sleep: my hands were around her middle, my fingers laced together, and her hands were on mine: I don't know if it was realizing the proximity of another warm body, or good smells from the kitchen, but she took a deeper breath, then I felt her stiffen, then relax. Levi laid his hand on hers and I don't recall ever seeing such a soft and fatherly look about him ever before. "Come and eat," he said softly, then winked: he got up, smiling, and turned to head out the door. Sarah got up easily, threw her left leg over her right and turned, landing on her feet: I struggled to sit up and as the blood come back into my back side, my hinder commenced to utter less than sterling opinions of my previous posture. Sarah's eyes widened and her hands were quick to grab me under the arms, for my legs did not want to work right: I got my pins under me and ordered them most sternly to work, and they did, though will ill grace: my hand went to her shoulder and I was kind of wobbly, but the longer I stood the more circulation I got back and the more my miscellaneous parts reminded me of the folly of my actions. "I set too long," I muttered, picking up my hat and setting it on my bruised scalp. Sarah charitably said nothing, just stood there looking at me with those big and lovely eyes. She stood there and looked for all of six seconds. "Think I could take you in that foot race now?" she said, trying hard to look innocent and actually succeeding. I nodded and took a tentative step. "Yeah," I gasped. Sarah's hands came up and she wasn't quite sure where to grab me to keep me from goin' down, but I was not going to go down: if I had to pinch my nose and blow hard and inflate my head like a Montgolfier balloon to keep me upright, I was NOT going to go down! I took another step and managed to wink. "My belly thinks my throat's been cut," I said. "Let's go eat."
  22. Update: On January 23rd, the Washington Senate Law & Justice Committee approved three anti-gun bills, among them Senate Bill 6077 to ban most standard capacity magazines. These bills are now headed to the Rules Committee awaiting being pulled to the Senate floor. In addition, the House of Representatives passed House Bill 1010 to allow the state patrol to destroy confiscated firearms, clearing the way to send this bill to the Senate. Please contact your state Senator and urge them to OPPOSE SBs 6077, 6294, and 6288, and HB 1010.
  23. WTB split riding skirts size 4-6. Pre- owned is fine.
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