He opened the breech and stared at the expended brass. It didn’t budge, so he slid the knife from his gunbelt and had to pry it out of the steel breech. Once the empty casing was in his pocket, he closed the breech and leaned the Martini-Henry against the wall and picked up the Sharps. Unless the Sharps was wildly inaccurate, he’d already decided to take it with him.
Less than a minute later, he fired the Sharps at the same point on the evil tree. This time, the spot appeared just a few inches above his aiming point. He was impressed, so after opening the breech and not having to pry out the brass, he reloaded the rifle and fired at the same point. He had to wait for the accumulated smoke began to thin, but once it did, he was gratified to find the last spot exactly where he’d wanted it to hit. As he cleared the breech, he was in awe of the Sharps’ accuracy but failed to give himself credit for the almost perfect shot. He’d been using firearms of all sorts since he was ten and never considered himself a marksman. To Jake, it was just like walking or riding a horse.
He picked up the Martini-Henry and walked to the front of the house. Before he stepped onto the porch, he wasn’t surprised to see eight faces looking at him from outside the bunkhouse or chow house. He grinned and held up both rifles before he stepped onto the porch. But Dave hadn’t come out of his house yet. He must have really tied one on last night.
_____
Forty minutes later, after cleaning both of the long guns, Jake left the house to see if Dave was awake yet. It was almost noon and even if he’d barely staggered to his bed, he should be up by now. Jake was getting worried that something might have happened to him. Jake recalled how sick he was on the day his mother was killed and he now suspected that Dave might have some serious medical problem that he was trying to hide.
Men often see any kind of disease as a cowardly weakness. There was also the concern that other men might think that it was nothing more than an excuse to avoid hard work. If Dave did have a major medical issue, Jake would have to at least postpone his departure. He couldn’t imagine the Elk without Dave. He just wasn’t sure that Dave would reveal his problem even if he knew that it was the only argument that he could make to keep him from chasing after his father.
He stepped onto the house’s small porch and stepped through the open doorway. He could have entered without knocking if it had been closed because he was the boss now. But he wouldn’t have exercised that privilege. He was about to call out to Dave when he heard a groan from the kitchen.
“Dave?” he asked loudly as he stepped across the front room and down the short hall.
“In here, Jake,” Dave replied just before Jake reached the kitchen.
Jake looked at the foreman who was nursing a cup of coffee and was the image of a man suffering from the mother of all hangovers.
Dave’s bleary eyes peered back at him through sagging eyelids as he managed a gruesome smile.
“I reckon I should have left the Riverfront before those last four whiskeys.”
Jake sat down across the table from Dave and his eyes soon began to water from the powerful, acrid scents surrounding the foreman.
“I didn’t know you were that big of a drinker, Dave. I know you tied one on now and then, but I don’t recall you ever getting this bad. Are you going to be all right?”
“Sure. I’ll be okay by suppertime. Just don’t expect me to eat much.”
He looked into Dave’s vague brown eyes and quietly asked, “Do you have a reason for drinking that much, Dave?”
Dave blinked then sharply asked, “Why do I need a reason to enjoy myself?”
“You don’t. You can do this every Saturday if you can handle the hangovers on Sunday. I was just worried that you might be sick. The way you described your gut problems on the second of July, I was concerned that you might be trying to hide a serious disease.”
Dave laughed then replied, “Nah. I’m not hiding anything. I was celebrating your return with some of the boys and got carried away. I’m as fit as a fiddle.”
Jake was relieved and smiled as he stood and said, “That’s good to hear. Now, to keep my own stomach from revolting, I’m going to go back to the house. You really smell bad, Dave.”
Dave snickered and waved before Jake walked quickly down the hall to get some fresh air.
It was close to lunchtime, and there was already smoke pouring out of the cookstove pipe. He’d spotted Charlie Shimshock among the eight men who were looking for the source of the gunfire, so that meant a hot and filling lunch.
When he entered the chow house, John Hatcher asked, “Was that you makin’ all that noise, boss?”
“I figured I’d shatter your salacious dreams with some target practice. I was trying out those two long-range rifles.”
Jack Parker said, “We figgered as much. That didn’t sound like a Winchester.”
Jake sat down and began answering their flood of questions about the Sharps and the Martini-Henry. Their gun conversation continued as they ate Charlie’s well-received cooking. It was almost one o’clock when Jake left the chow house and headed for the barn to check on Mars and Vulcan. He was going to give Mars the day off and ride Vulcan into town tomorrow. Even with the added weight of the Sharps on Tuesday, Mars would
