The Gunsmith of Gunnison Gorge

"Ma'am, your husband must not use this revolver much. I can tell it's been carried a lot, but the action feels like new."

"I'm not married, and it's the revolver I carry every day. I bought one of those new Winchester rifles at the general store, the one that uses cartridges and I like it a lot. The problem is now I have to carry cartridges for the rifle and balls, powder, and caps for this revolver."

"Oh, I see. Well, I can do the conversion, but it's a lot of work. I'd have to charge five dollars because I'll have to make a new hammer and do a lot of work to the cylinder."

Maddie smiled.

"That's a good deal less then the twenty dollars a new revolver would cost. How long will it take?"

"Oh...about a week I think."

"I think that will work out just fine. I'll be back in a week to pick it up."

Jacob smiled.

"I'll start on it this afternoon. Uh...I do need your name, Ma'am."

"Maddie Wilson."

"Well, Miss Wilson, I appreciate your business. I'll have it done by the time you call again."

As Maddie closed the door to his shop, Jacob was lost in thought. He'd never known a woman to have a revolver, much less carry one, and this Remington had definitely spent a lot of time in a holster. He couldn't understand why a woman would need to carry a revolver or how she could while wearing a dress.

Maddie seemed to be a very strong woman and he liked that. Jacob hadn't known many who were. She'd talked to him like a man would have spoken. Most women he'd known would have been embarrassed to admit to carrying a gun of any type. Women just didn't do that, well, except for that one woman from Nashville who had him fix her derringer. She was a woman who ran a house for public woman and carried the derringer in a holster strapped to the inside of her thigh. Maddie didn't look like a public woman at all. She just looked like a pretty and well-shaped woman.

Jacob began disassembling the revolver and thought he might ask Marshall Thompson about the woman if he got the chance.

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When Maddie left Jacob's shop, she went to the general store and purchased ten boxes of cartridges for the Winchester rifle she carried under the seat of her buckboard. Maddie needed those cartridges for a reason, and she wanted her Remington revolver to fire the same cartridges for the same reason.

Two weeks before, her cowhands had driven some steers to Denver City to sell. When they returned, they brought a story about several other cowhands they'd met there. Those cowhands had asked if there was work on any of the ranches around Gunnison Gorge because they didn't want to stay working for their current employer.

Maddie's cowhands asked why, and were told their ranches had been bought by a man who didn't want to pay a fair wage to the men who worked them. They went on to say the man had threatened the ranch owners so they would sell at a low price, and when one refused, he was found shot dead out beside his barn. There were no witnesses, but the rest of the ranch owners understood the message.

The rancher's wife sold the ranch then, as did three other ranchers, but the price the man paid was only about half what the ranches were worth. Once they took ownership of the deeds, the two men told the cowhands they had a choice -- they could work for half their former wages or they could leave. One cowhand had said that wasn't fair and he was going to go to the marshal in Denver City.

The cowhand started for Denver City the next morning. His horse came back to the ranch about half an hour later. His fellow cowhands found him just a mile from the ranch. He'd been shot through the heart.

Maddie figured it was only a matter of time until the two men reached Gunnison Gorge, and she didn't have long to wait. A week after her cowhands told her the story, two men rode up to her house. One was dressed in the same type of suit a businessman would have worn and had a belly that stuck out over his belt. The other was dressed more like a cowhand, although his vest was studded with silver and his two revolvers had ivory grips instead of wood.

The man in the suit tipped his hat and smiled.

"Good morning, Ma'am. I'm Samuel Riggs and this is my associate, James Rowe. We're from Denver City and I am looking to buy a ranch near Gunnison Gorge. We were riding by your house and I liked how the place looked. I was wondering if you would consider selling."

Maddie noticed the man called James didn't smile, and he kept his right hand resting on the butt of the ivory-handled revolver in the holster on his thigh. It was obvious to her James was there to intimidate her. She wasn't a woman to be intimidated, but she wasn't ready for a fight. Maddie smiled.

"Well, I don't know. I suppose it would depend upon the offer."

Samuel smiled again.

"I'm sure you can understand that before I can make you an offer, I need to learn a little about your ranch."

He asked Maddie several questions about how many acres the ranch covered, did it have water available, and how many brood cows she was running. She answered his questions honestly, but was pretty sure he already knew the answers. He then made Maddie an offer.

"Ma'am, I know it must be hard on a woman such as yourself running a ranch. I'm prepared to offer you two dollars an acre and a dollar for each cow. I know that being a woman, you're probably worried about your cowhands. It would be my pleasure to continue their employment should they choose to stay. You can move to town and live like a proper woman should live."

Maddie knew the offer was the last she would hear, but tried to stall for time. She smiled at the men.

"Well, that is an interesting offer. Might I have some time to give it the consideration it deserves?"

The man smiled a smile Maddie knew was put on.

"Certainly. I would never pressure you into such a large decision, and I have other ranchers to call on that will occupy my time for several days. Shall we say I'll call on you again in a week?"

Maddie said a week would be enough time. Both men left then. Maddie watched them ride down the road toward the Richardson's ranch. She was happy they were gone. It had been difficult to continue smiling after Samuel had made his offer.

The land occupied by her ranch was easily worth five dollars an acre because it had a mountain stream running through it. Her brood cows would be worth twenty dollars a head if she sold them and each of her ten bulls were worth at least fifty. Samuel had offered to pay her less than half what the land was worth and only about ten percent of the value of her cattle. She wouldn't have sold the ranch for any amount of money. Samuel's offer was an insult and it had been difficult not to tell him that.

The next morning just as Maddie was finishing her breakfast, a galloping rider skidded his horse to a stop and ran up to the door of Maddie's house. He didn't bother to knock. He just threw open the door and yelled out Maddie's name.

"Mrs. Wilson, Mrs. Wilson, I gotta talk to you."

Maddie walked to the door and saw Timothy Ward, the foreman of the Richardson's ranch standing there.

"What is it Timothy?"

"Mrs. Wilson, Mr. Richardson's been shot and I seen it happen. Mrs. Richardson thought you might be able to help since you know Marshall Thompson real well."

Maddie motioned Timothy to a chair.

"Slow down, Timothy and tell me what happened."

Timothy took off his hat and sat down, but he was still agitated.

"These two fellers come to the ranch yesterday. One was dressed real nice like a banker but the other, well, Ma'am, he looked like a hired gun if you ask me. I seen 'em ride up and go in the house. It weren't long afore they come back out and Mr. Richardson was yellin' at 'em not to come back.

"When they left, I asked Mr. Richardson what'd happened. He said they wanted to buy his ranch for half what it was worth. Well, you know how Mr. Richardson is. He told 'em to git off his ranch and to not come back.

"Well, this morning, Mr. Richardson said he was goin' to town to talk to Marshall Thompson 'bout them two. I needed to go check on some cows that were in one of the pastures on the way, so we rode together for a while. Mr. Richardson was mad as an old wet hen, and said he'd see both of 'em in jail afore he was done with 'em.

"I turned off to the pasture and found my cows. They was all right, so I started back to the ranch. I'd just topped a hill when I seen Mr. Richardson talking to another man. That man was the hired gun from yesterday. I knowed it was him because of them ivory handles on his revolvers. I was gonna ride down and see if Mr. Richardson needed help, but afore I could do that, the hired gun pulled his revolver and shot Mr. Richardson, and then took off ridin' as fast as he could for town.

"When I got down the hill, Mr. Richardson weren't dead, so I took him back to the ranch. Mrs. Richardson said the bullet went all the way through his shoulder but didn't hit anything important and he'd be all right. She's taking care of him now. She said I could come warn you about them and asked if you could do something to help."

Maddie frowned.

"I know them. They were here before they went to the Richardson ranch. Timothy, did the man see you?"

"No Ma'am, I don't think he did. I'd just topped the hill when he shot Mr. Richardson and he was riding away from me after that. He was around a bend in the road by the time I got to Mr. Richardson."

"Then we have to go tell Marshall Thompson what you saw and I'll tell him about what the two men are up to. That should be enough to get them arrested."

Timothy took off his hat, scratched his head, and then put it back on.

"Ma'am, I'll go, but I don't think it's a good idea to take the road into town. That feller might be just waitin' to see if anybody found Mr. Richardson. He'd likely kill us too. I'll be going over the hills to get there, and your buckboard wouldn't be able to make the trip. You better stay here where it's safe."

Maddie smiled.

"Timothy, I can ride a horse just as well as any man. You go tell my foreman to saddle my buckskin gelding. I need a few minutes to change clothes and then we'll be off."

Timothy had heard the cowhands who worked the Diamond J ranch talk about how Mrs. Wilson dressed when she was working, but he still didn't believe his eyes when Maddie walked out of the house carrying a Winchester rifle in one hand and a box of cartridges in the other.

In order to find trousers small enough to fit her small frame, she'd bought boy's trousers. They fit loosely everywhere except the seat because Maddie's hips were wider than most boy's. Those hips filled the seat of the trousers and didn't leave much to Timothy's imagination. Her shirt fit the same way, loose everywhere except over her breasts. There, she'd left two buttons undone and the material under those was still stretched tight. A wide-brimmed Stetson hat covered her head, and she wore the same boots as any cowhand would have worn.

Maddie smiled at Timothy as she slid the Winchester into the saddle scabbard, put the box of cartridges in one saddlebag, and then mounted the buckskin gelding.

"Timothy, let's go get this over with."

The going was slower than the road would have been, but the distance was a little shorter. The sun was just overhead when they saw Gunnison Gorge in the distance. They rode toward the end of town nearest the Marshall's office.

Bart listened intently to both Timothy's tale and then to Maddie's, then frowned and stood up.

"I know of the two men. They're staying at the hotel. I'll go pay them a visit and see what they have to say. You two stay here until I get back with them. While I' gone, you write down what you just told me."

Bart checked his revolver, then walked out the door. Maddie and Timothy sat in the chairs in front of the Marshall's desk. Maddie wrote both their statements, signed hers, and then handed Timothy his to sign. After that, they sat in the chairs in front of the desk, listened to the clock on the wall tic away the seconds, and waited.

Half an hour later, Bart came back with the fat man Maddie recognized as the man who had asked about buying her ranch.

Maddie pointed at the man and said, "That's him, Marshall. He's the man who offered me less than half of what my ranch is worth. Where's the other one, the one he called James?"

Bart frowned.

"I don't know. He wasn't in his room. One of the men at the livery stable said he rode out of town a little after I got to the hotel. His room was next to Mr. Riggs here and I figure he heard what was going on and lit out. I'll form a posse to look for him, but it's getting pretty late to follow a trail even if he left one. You two might as well go home. When we catch the other one, I'll send word so you can come to town and identify him."

Bart locked Mr. Riggs in one cell and then went to form a posse of the town's businessmen. He'd rounded up six other men and was talking to James Driggle, the barber, when Timothy rode back into town and stopped his horse in front of the doctor's office. Since Bart and James had been outside on the boardwalk, they both saw the red stain and the blood dripping from Timothy's right arm. Bart helped Timothy off his horse and once on the ground, Timothy explained what had happened.

"Marshall Thompson, me and Mrs. Wilson was about a mile out of town when he jumped out from behind a bush and stopped us. I started to draw my revolver, but he shot me in the arm before I could get it out of the holster. Mrs. Wilson was reaching for her rifle, but he said he'd shoot her too if she tried anything."

"What man? Who was he?"

"The same man I saw shoot Mr. Richards. He said he knowed we told on him and caused his brother to get arrested. Marshall, he's got Mrs. Wilson now, and he told me to tell you if you don't let his brother go, he'll kill her."

"So they're brothers, not just two men. Where did he take Maddie?"

"There's an old cabin 'bout two miles off the road where he got us. He said he'll be there until dark. If you don't bring him his brother by then, he'll kill Mrs. Wilson. I believe him, Marshall. He'll kill her for sure if you don't let his brother go. He said the only reason he just shot me in the arm was so I could deliver his message. He laughed and said I wouldn't bleed to death if I rode fast."

Bart frowned, then turned to the men who had gathered in front of the doctor's office.

"I'm going to get Timothy into the doctor's office and then we're going to go get Mrs. Wilson. I'll need all of you who can carry a rifle, so go get saddled up."

Doctor Harrison looked at Timothy's wound and said he'd be sore for a few weeks, but there wasn't much damage done. Bart walked out of the doctor's office and started for his own office to pick up a rifle. There, sitting on the chair in front of the Marshall's office was Jacob Cunningham. In his lap was a long, leather rifle case. He looked up at Bart.

"Marshall, I heard about Mrs. Wilson, and I want to go with you."

Bart shook his head.

"No, Jacob. You can't move fast enough if there's any shooting."

Jacob smiled.

"You're right about that, Marshall, but I don't intend to be that close. From what I heard, you won't get that close with all these men either, not if you want that lady to not get shot. As soon as you ride up, he'll put a bullet in her and ride off."

"Then how can you help?"

Jacob's face was stern.

"Marshall Thompson, I sorta lied to you about my leg and about bein' in the war. I knew folks here was Union and wouldn't take kindly to any Confederates bein' in town. My Daddy was a gunsmith like I said, but we lived just across the Kentucky line in Tennessee. I was a Confederate sniper in the war. One of them Union boys got lucky and bounced a minié ball off the rock I was hidin' behind. Busted my knee all to hell and back. My leg healed, but it's stiff now. I limped out of the hospital and went home for the rest of the war, but I took Myrtle here with me."

Jacob untied the laces of the gun case and pulled out a single shot, muzzle loading rifle. It had a telescopic sight that ran almost the length of the barrel.

It looked a little like a Sharps, but Bart knew it wasn't. It was a Whitworth rifle, and he'd seen what they could do. He'd spent a lot of time hiding behind trees and rocks while the snipers of the Confederate Whitworth Sharpshooters killed one Artillery man after another.

Artillery men had to stand in the open to load their cannons, and that made them prime targets for snipers. A man would stand up to swab the cannon bore after the last shot. There would be a thud, the man would fall over, and a second or so later, the report of a rifle that was over five hundred yards away would be heard.

Jacob stood the rifle on his knee, then looked back at Bart.

"The way I figure it is you're sort of between a rock and a hard place. You can't go ridin' out there with a bunch of men and expect him to give up. Mr. Richardson probably ain't the first man he's killed, so he's got nothing to lose by killin' Mrs. Wilson, and he'll do that just as soon as he sees your posse so's he can get away before you catch him. I figure you already guessed that, so you're gonna ride out there, leave the men a ways away, and try to talk to the man. You and I both know that won't do no good lessen you got his brother with you, so you'll take him along.

"That man ain't going to let Mrs. Wilson go even if you give him his brother. He knows as soon as they ride off, you'll telegraph their descriptions to every Marshall within a hundred miles. They'll get caught the next town they come to, and Mrs. Wilson can identify them both. As soon as he sees his brother, he'll shoot Mrs. Wilson and shoot you too. They'll be gone by the time your posse hears the shots and comes to see what happened. If you're purty good with that revolver, you might get him before he gets you, but Mrs. Wilson will still be dead.

"It's like in the war when both sides was hidin' in trenches because showin' yourself meant you'd get shot. If he lets her go, he figures you'll shoot him. If you give him his brother, you figure he'll shoot you and Mrs. Wilson.

"What I can do, well, what me and Myrtle here can do, is shoot that man before he can do anything to that lady. All you have to do is get me within a thousand yards of him and a little higher than he is, and then keep him talking for a few minutes so I can get a shot."

Bart shook his head.

"You'll only have one shot. If you miss, he'll kill Maddie."

Jacob patted the stock of the rifle.

"Me and Myrtle don't miss, Marshall Thompson. You ever hear about Spotsylvania Courthouse and that Union general who got himself killed there?"

Bart nodded.

"Yes, I heard about General Sedgwick. He was killed by a lucky shot from a sniper."

"'Tweren't no luck about it. That was me and Myrtle, a little over nine hundred yards away from where he stood tryin' to get his men to charge the Confederate line. I had to respect a man that brave, but he was dumb to stand out in the open like he did. He stayed in one place just long enough for my shot to hit where I aimed. That's all I need this man to do -- just stand still for about five seconds."

Bart shook his head.

"Even if I believe you, and I'm not sure I do, he'll have Maddie close to him. You might hit her instead."

Jacob grinned.

"Thought you might say that. Let's go out behind my shop and I'll prove I'm telling the truth."

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As the group of men rode out of town, Bart hoped he'd made the right decision. In reality, it was the only decision he could have made that held a possibility of rescuing Maddie, but he was still worried.

Jacob had been everything he'd said. The rock sitting on the ground almost a thousand yards from the back of the gunsmith's shop was about the size of a man's head. If it hadn't been painted white, Bart would have had trouble picking it out of the rest of the ground. Jacob loaded the Whitworth, then sat down and put the barrel in the fork of the rifle rest he pulled from a pouch on the side of the rifle case. He'd sighted for a few moments and then pulled the trigger.