"The Shot"
                            by Linda C.
 

                The early morning mist was still blanketing the earth and the forest was silent.  The three-point buck raised his head and turned it directly toward Mark.  Mark’s rifle was raised and poised to shoot; his finger gently squeezed the trigger just like Pa taught him.  The deer started to bolt – BAM – the shot rang out, but the buck didn’t fall.  He started running on three good legs, dragging a bleeding leg behind him.  Lucas then stood up and shot the deer through the head – killing him instantly.

                “Dang, Pa!  I can’t believe I missed that shot!”  “You didn’t miss, Mark, you just didn’t get a clean shot.”  Lucas felt bad when he looked at Mark’s crest-fallen face.  Lucas didn’t ask if Mark could see well enough to get the shot, he didn’t want to remind Mark of his ordeal at that madman’s hands. But he worried about Mark’s vision.  “C’mon, son, let’s get him ready to take him back to the ranch.”

                Lucas and Mark worked side-by-side trussing the deer and getting him on the pack horse.  They started for home. It was still early morning.  Mark was unusually quiet and Lucas tried to find some way to make Mark less disappointed about the hunt.  “Mark, you know, we haven’t had company for dinner in a long time.  What if we invite Freddy and his parents for dinner tomorrow night?  We can ask Micah and Lou, too.  We’ll have fresh venison steaks, potatoes and some of your string beans.  How’s that sound?”  “Fine, Pa.”  “Should I make my chocolate cake or ask Lou to bring one of her apple pies?”  “Either is fine with me, Pa.”  Lucas was a little frustrated with Mark’s answers. “’Fine, Pa – Fine, Pa!’  Mark what’s bothering you?”

                Mark’s eyes showed such disappointment when he looked at Lucas, “Pa, I’m never going to be as good a shot as you.”  “Mark, I’ve been shooting a lot longer than you have. I’ve had more practice.”  “Pa, I practice, too, and I do everything you tell me and I still miss the shot.  I don’t think I’ll ever be really good.”  Lucas tried to reassure him, “Mark, you’re being too hard on yourself. You shot the deer.”  “No, Pa, I just crippled him – you shot him.”  “Son, are you upset that I took that shot?”  “Of course not, Pa, I just want to be as good as you are.  I want you to be proud of me, like I’m proud of you.”

                Lucas stopped the horses and turned so he could look directly at Mark as he spoke, “Mark, I am proud of you. I am always proud of you and it has nothing to do with your being a good shot.”  Mark flushed with embarrassment and pride.  Lucas went on, “I’m glad to hear you say that you’re proud of me, but if it’s only because I’m good with this rifle, I haven’t taught you well.”  Mark quickly said, “No Pa, it’s not just the rifle, you know that.  It’s just that I’m almost a man and I’m not good at lots of things a man should be good at.”

                “Mark, you’re only going to be 17 next month – you’ve got lots of time to grow into being a man.  I told you once that one day we’d stand side-by-side doing man things together, we did that today and there’s more days coming.  But just for today, don’t worry about it, okay?”  Mark smiled and looked a bit relieved, “Okay, Pa.”  “So, let’s get home and dress this deer. You can ride over and invite the Toomey’s before dark.”

                Lucas and Mark rode home in a shared contentment. Lucas knew that soon his boy would be a man. He knew, too, that Mark would be a fine man – a man both he and Margaret would be proud of.  He promised Margaret that he would raise the boy right and he knew he was keeping that promise.

                The McCain ranch was a warm and inviting spot on the open range.  The Toomey’s (Freddy and his parents, John and Ellen), Micah, Lou, Lucas and Mark gathered around the table.  Lucas led them in grace and then everyone got serious about eating.  There was the fresh venison, mashed potatoes, Mark’s string beans, bread that Mrs. Toomey made and two delicious apple pies that Lou made that morning.  The conversation was lively and sprinkled with laughter as Mark and Freddy regaled them with the adventures of Mr. Griswold and the Conklin brothers:  Tommy & Matt.  The boys were having a hard time adjusting to Mr. Griswold’s discipline, but they weren’t bad boys – just “high-spirited” as Micah liked to say.  The Conklin’s father died a couple of years ago and their mother was raising four children all alone.  There was Tommy, Matt, Maryellen and little Jacob who wasn’t in school yet.

                The adults lingered over coffee.  The men lit up cigars and the ladies started cleaning up.  Mark was especially glad that he didn’t have to do all those dishes.  “Pa, I’m going to show Freddy Pansy’s new litter.”  “Okay, but you two keep away from that sow.  You know she’s mean.”  “Yes, Pa.”  With that, Mark and Freddy headed for the pen to see the eight little, squirmy, squealing piglets and one big noisy mama pig.  “Mark, are you going to sell these pigs, too?”  “Sure, well, at least some of them.  Pa and I will keep one for ourselves.  Do you think you and your folks would like one?”  “I guess so, Mark.  I’ll ask them.  Say, what are you doing on Saturday?”  Mark thought a minute, “Just chores, I guess, why?”  “Want to go fishing?  I thought we could ask Tommy & Matt and maybe Jimmy. It’d be fun. We can pack a lunch.”  “I’ll have to ask Pa, but I think I can go – after I do my chores.”

                “Freddy, come on, son, we have to get home!”  Mrs. Toomey called her son.

                Good nights and good-byes were said all around.  Micah rode back to town with Lou after Lucas promised he and Mark would meet them at the hotel Saturday night for supper.

                After all the guests left, Lucas sat on the porch steps and lit another cigar.  Mark came to sit next to him.  The sky was streaked with red and gold and the sun was just going down behind the hill in front of the house.  The breeze was soft and warm and Lucas couldn’t have been more content than to sit here with his son beside him.

                “Have a good time tonight, Mark?”  “Yes, Pa, that Mr. Toomey tells some funny stories and Miss Lou – she makes me want to see that “old country” of her’s!”  Lucas laughed with Mark, but Mark’s comment reminded him of just how soon Mark may leave to find his own way.  That thought caused Lucas more pain than he figured it would.

                “You want to see the whole world, son?”  Mark laughed, “No, Pa, I like it here just fine – but Lou sure makes it sound interesting.  You know, Pa, I would like to see San Francisco (Mark was warming up to this subject now) and see the ocean.  I’ve never seen the ocean. Do you think we could go there? You know we haven’t taken a train trip in a long time.  I’ve read a lot about it.  Samuel Clemens wrote about it.  And I would like to see New York City and see those tall buildings that Don Mahoney told us about, remember?  Oh, and Mr. Clemens did tell me to stop and see him if I ever get to Connecticut.  Wouldn’t that beat all – me visiting Mark Twain!  Wow.”  “It sure would, son!”  Lucas ruffled Mark’s hair and they both laughed, but Lucas knew before long that Mark wouldn’t welcome this show of affection.

                “Why don’t you head to bed, son.  Tomorrow, we fix more fences.”  “Okay, Pa,  good night.”  “Good night, Mark.”  Mark rose to leave but turned back to Lucas, “Pa, can I go fishing with the guys on Saturday, after I do all my chores, of course.”  “Sure, son, but I promised Lou we’d all have dinner at the hotel Saturday night so give away what you catch.”  “Okay, Pa!”

                Mark went in and got ready for bed.  As he stretched out on his bunk, and his eyes started to close, he felt totally at peace.  His Pa, his home, his ranch, his life – they were all good.  He wanted to catch that moment and put it in a jar just like you do with fireflies – so he could always remember it.

                After Mark was asleep, Lucas came in and while getting ready for bed, he walked over to check on Mark as he always did.  Mark was sleeping soundly, looking so peaceful.  Lucas thought of all Mark meant to him.  His Mark – almost a man and still a boy.

                Saturday morning was sunny and warm; Mark’s chores were done in record time. He bolted down the eggs Lucas made for breakfast, packed his lunch and climbed aboard Blueboy to head for the river.  Lucas called out to him to be careful and to get home in time to clean up for dinner in town.  Mark waved to his Pa as he rode away from the ranch.

                Mark met Freddy at their fishing spot.  They’d been coming there for years, since they were little kids.  Mark couldn’t think of a better way to spend a sunny Saturday.  Jimmy showed up next, carrying a bag of jujubes – he seemed to always have an endless supply.  The three boys baited their lines and sat back to wait for the first catch.

                The quiet was broken by the sound of several horses riding up – the Conklin boys and another boy they didn’t know.  “Hey, fellas,” Tommy Conklin greeted them, “we brought a neighbor of ours – Doug Abbott.  He lives on the other side of the valley.”  Mark greeted the new boy, “Hi, Doug. I’ve never seen you at school.  Are you new around here?”  “Naw, not new.  My family’s been here more than three years.  I’m just done with school – I’ll be 18 next week.  The conversation turned to fishing as the six boys sat on the bank, kidding around a bit, but trying not to scare away the fish.  Jimmy caught the first fish and they sure were biting today.  They had a pretty good catch by the time they decided it was lunch time.

                They each unwrapped their lunches – except Doug.  He hadn’t brought any lunch and claimed not to be hungry at all, but he did accept the boy’s offerings of a hard-boiled egg, a piece of bread and butter and an apple.  They drank cool water with their lunch.  Mark and Freddy were the first to finish eating and get back to the serious business of fishing.

                It was obvious that Doug had his fill of trying to catch any fish.  He went to his saddlebag and drew out a holster and six-gun.  Tommy asked if he could see it. Doug said after he had some target practice.

                Mark was nervous about the gun and not knowing Doug real well or how he would handle a gun.  “Don’t shoot that near us.” Mark told Doug.  “What, are you afraid?  The Rifleman’s son is afraid of guns?”  “I’m not afraid of guns – just some of the people who use them.  Besides, the noise will scare off the fish.”  “Sure,” Doug replied,” the fish are scared – not the Rifleman’s son! Bet you can’t even shoot a gun.”  “I can shoot.  I have my own rifle.”  “So do I,” Freddy added,” but we didn’t bring them fishing.”

                Doug taunted Mark, “I still think you’re scared – you’re not like your old man!”  “Take that back!” Mark growled.  “Make me, if you’re not too scared”  Before Mark could react, Matt Conklin stepped in.  “Look, instead of fighting, why don’t we have a shooting contest?  That will prove who’s scared and who can shoot.”  “Okay with me,” said Doug,” what about the Rifleman’s son?”  Mark hesitated a moment, not sure of Lucas’ reaction to this contest.  “See I told you he’s scared.”  “I’m not scared!  We’ll have the contest, but next week, right here next Saturday.”  “Fine with me.  Hope you can really shoot a gun.”  “I can shoot”  Mark responded. “Next Saturday, be here.”  Doug challenged as he mounted his horse and rode off.

                Mark rushed home to get ready for dinner in town.  Lucas was combing his hair as Mark entered the house.  “Just in time, Mark.  Get washed up so we can get to town.”  “Yes, Pa.”  “Had a good day fishing, son?”  “Fine, Pa.  “Catch anything?”  “A couple, I gave them to the Conklin’s.”  Lucas nodded his ascent.  “Good, I’m sure Mrs. Conklin will appreciate the dinner tonight.  So who went fishing today?”  Mark finished washing his face before answering, “Freddy, Jimmy, Tommy and Matt.  Oh, and a new boy, Doug Abbott.  He’s a neighbor of the Conklin’s.”  Lucas puzzled over the name, “Doug Abbott?  Is he from around here?”  “I guess so, Pa, Tommy said he lives on the other side of the valley.  I didn’t know him.  He’s never been to our school.”  “No school?  How old is he?”  “Doug said he’ll be 18 next week, just a little older than me.”  Lucas grinned at Mark, “Mark, he’s a year older than you are!  Don’t rush your age because it makes me older, too!”  They both laughed as they left the house to head to town.

                As Lucas and Mark rode along, Lucas noted that Mark rode very well.  He was a natural rider, loved his horses and knew how to care for them, too.  Lucas was really proud of him.

                “Pa?”  “What, Mark?”  “Will you help me practice with my rifle this week?”   Lucas was a little puzzled, but said, “You know I’ll help you practice, Mark, but we aren’t going hunting for a while.  What’s the hurry?”  “I just need to practice, Pa.  The more I practice, the better I’ll be – you said so yourself, Pa.”  “Yes, I know I did, Mark.”  “And I’ll buy my own shells, Pa, from my own money.”  “Mark, that isn’t necessary.”   “ I want to, Pa, it’s only right.”  “Okay, Mark, if you say so.  Now c’mon, let’s get a move on – we don’t want to keep Lou waiting.  You know what they say in the “Old Country” – never get a red-headed woman angry!  Lucas and Mark laughed and spurred their horses on to North Fork.

                Lucas, Mark, Micah and Lou sat at the corner table.  They all ordered steaks and potatoes and vegetables.  They laughed and talked as they ate.  Lucas was acutely aware of feeling “at home” and at peace.  He was happy especially to see Mark enjoying himself, joking with Micah and teasing Lou.  It was a tough year for Mark with some hard lessons.  Lucas wished with all his heart he could protect Mark from all of life’s ugly parts, but knew just as certainly that he couldn’t.  Just take each happy day and appreciate it.

                As they were having pie for dessert, a ruckus started in the lobby.  A cowboy was yelling at the desk clerk, demanding a room – even though the clerk had explained that there wasn’t a vacancy.  The cowboy grabbed the clerk by the collar and pulled him halfway over the desk.  In one movement, Micah, Lucas and Lou rose from the table and rushed into the lobby. Micah pulled his gun, “Alright, let him go!”  The cowboy turned sneering toward Micah.  It was obvious he was drunk.  “You got a problem, Marshal?”  “No, but you do – let him go.  You’re coming with me now.”  The drunken cowboy appeared to be weighing Micah’s words.  Quietly, Mark followed Lucas out of the dining room, carrying his father’s rifle.  As he handed Lucas the gun, the cowboy’s eyes watched the rifle and considered his options.  He slowly released the clerk and held his hands out, away from his gun.  Micah approached and took the gun from him.  “Let’s go – the jail is across the street.  You can sober up there.”  The cowboy shot a murderous look at Lucas and walked ahead of Micah toward the jail.

                Lucas, Lou and Mark went back to their table to wait for Micah’s return.  Lucas rested his rifle against the wall and thanked Mark for thinking to bring it to him.  Although Lucas wanted to remind Mark of the danger he might have walked into, he didn’t want to ruin Mark’s jovial mood.  Micah returned shortly.

                “Micah, who is that man?” Lou asked.  “Some rancher named Abbott, George Abbott.  Lives over closer to Marinetta.  Seems he had some trouble at home.  Said his son pulled a gun on him and when he was teaching him a lesson, his wife told him to leave until he cooled down.

                Lucas said, “Abbott? Mark, what was Tommy’s friend’s name?”  “It was Doug Abbott, Pa.  Do you think it’s the same family?”  Micah responded, “I think so.  Sounds like it. I’ll let him sleep off his drunk and release him in the morning.  If that’s okay with you, Lou?”  “Of course, Micah, there was no real harm done.”

                Lucas noticed that Mark was looking very concerned.  “Something wrong, son?”  “No, Pa, I guess I‘m just surprised that a son would pull a gun on his Pa.”  “Does this Doug seem like trouble to you, Mark?”  “I don’t know, Pa, I only met him today.  He’s a friend of Tommy’s and Tommy likes him.”  Lucas considered Mark’s comments.  “Mark, I don’t like you being with a boy that carries a gun.”  “Pa, he’s almost 18 – he’s not a boy.”  “Mark, you don’t just become a man because you’re 18.”  “I know, Pa, but you have to become a man some time.  When is the time?”  Lucas had a hard time answering that question.  Micah told Mark, “You know, Mark, I’ve been told that you’re a man when your father says you’re a man. Don’t rush it, son.”

                Before Lucas and Mark left for home, they promised Lou they would have a picnic lunch with her after church tomorrow. Micah returned to check on his prisoner and then turn in.

                Every afternoon that entire week, after school was over and the chores were done, Lucas helped Mark with his shooting.  Mark did well.   He hit more targets than he missed.  Lucas was pleased that Mark’s vision seemed fine.  “You’re a good shot, Mark, very good.”  “Then, why did I miss that deer, Pa?”  “Mark, shooting at targets is very different than shooting at an animal.  That deer moved.  When you’re hunting, you have to anticipate what the animal will do.  Even then, there’s no way anyone makes every shot.”  “You make yours, Pa.”  “Mark, you’ve seen me miss.  No one makes every shot – not even me.  You’ve been hunting with me since you were small.  Mark, you know I’ve missed some.  You remember I missed that mountain lion, don’t you. ”  Mark thought before he answered his father.  “I know that, Pa. It’s just that people expect me to be as good as you.  They call me The Rifleman’s son.  And I’m not as good as you and I don’t think I ever will be!”  Mark’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.  “Pa, I don’t want to disappoint you.”

                “Disappoint me?  Mark, you have to know better than that.  Maybe I am a better shot than you are, but I am not the horseman that you are. You ride better than any grown man I know. Didn’t you win the Charity Day Race three years in a row?”  Mark smiled with pride as he nodded.  “Well, Mark, I’ve never won that race and no one’s ever asked me to ride their horse in the race either like Mr. Fenway did you.  Are you disappointed in me?”  “Pa, that’s crazy. I could never be disappointed in you!”  “Or me in you, Mark.”  “Let’s stop practice for now, Mark, I’m starved and look forward to tasting your stew.”  “The stew!  Pa I forgot to put in on the stove. “  Mark ran for the house, “I’ll get it ready, don’t worry, Pa, it won’t take too long for dinner to be ready!”  Lucas chuckled  and shook his head as he followed Mark back to the house.

                While they were eating Mark’s stew, Lucas asked, “Do you plan to go fishing again on Saturday, Mark?”  Mark didn’t look up at Lucas when he answered, “I guess so, Pa, why?”  Mark really wanted to avoid discussing Saturday with Lucas.  He didn’t want to lie to his Pa.  “Well, I think some trout would be great for supper Saturday night.  It’s been a busy week and I’d rather skip having dinner at the hotel.  Is that okay with you, son?”  “Sure, Pa, I just hope the fish are biting or we may go hungry.”

                 “Oh, Pa, I forgot to ask you.  Is it okay if we give one of the pigs to the Toomey’s and maybe one to the Conklin’s?  “Sure, Mark.  The pigs are yours to sell or not. But we’ll keep one to butcher for ourselves. “  Because Mark was the cook, Lucas took a turn washing the dishes.  He noted the boy used several more pots and dishes when he cooked that Lucas ever did.  While Lucas was at the sink, Mark sat at the table doing some homework.  Mark was reading his geography book and studying about the Mississippi River.  “Pa, how old was I when I saw the Mississippi?”  “Oh, just about two, I think.  Why?”  “Just curious.  There’s a lot to learn about it, guessing from this book.” “ I guess there is, son.”

                “Pa, how old were you when you joined the army?”  “I was 18.”  “How old were you when you killed a man with a gun?”  Lucas dried his hands and came to sit at the table.  “Why are you asking me about this, Mark?”  Mark didn’t look up for a minute, then, looking at Lucas, “I just want to know more about you, Pa, before you met Ma and before I was born.  You went into the army when you were just a y ear older than I am.  What was it like?”

                Lucas took a deep breath and thought carefully about how to answer that question.  “Mark, it was a time of war. I joined the army to defend my country.  No soldier wants to kill or to be killed.  Do you understand that?”  “I think so, Pa, but what was it like?  How did you feel?”  Lucas’ mind tumbled with the memories, the horrors of the war.  “I was scared, son, very scared.  You never forget the sound of the cannons, the rifle fire, the screams.”

                “You killed some enemy soldiers, didn‘t you?”  Lucas nodded his head but said nothing.  “You had to, Pa, it was war and it was your job.”  “Yes, son, it was war and I had to kill. I’ve killed many times since and not once did it feel good.  I’ve told you that often, Mark. “  “I know, Pa.  Is that why you won’t let me have a gun?”  “You have your rifle – do you mean a six-gun?”  Mark nodded his head yes.  “Why do you want a six gun?”  “I don’t know if I do, Pa, but some of the guys have them already.”  “Do they wear them?”  “No, only one does – that Doug Abbott.”  “The boy who pulled a gun on his father?”  “He’s 18, Pa.”  “He’s a boy – a boy who isn’t old enough for that responsibility!”

                Mark looked away from his father before he asked, “Don’t you trust me, Pa?  Don’t you think I’m responsible?”  Lucas looked him squarely in the eyes – “Responsible enough for a six gun – NO!” he thundered, them more quietly.  “Mark, I do trust you but you need to trust me, too.  I know what’s best for you now.  Do you remember what Mr. Drago told you – that once he picked up the gun, he could never put it down.”  “I remember, but he was talking about gunfighters.”  “No, Mark, no one starts out to be a gunfighter – it happens every time you draw your gun and you have to keep drawing your gun until someone outdraws you.”  Mark spoke very quietly, “Pa, you’re not a gunfighter, but you have to use your rifle.”  “That’s right, son, but I never wanted to do more than protect my family, my home.  You know I don’t go looking for trouble. I don’t try to prove myself – you know that, Mark.”

                “Yes, sir, I do, but that doesn’t stop people from coming after you.”  “Someday it will stop, Mark. Our laws are getting stronger; our citizens want to live in peaceful towns.  The time will come when I won’t need my rifle except to hunt.”  Lucas looked at the clock, “Mark, it’s almost 10. You’d better get to bed, you can finish your homework in the morning.”  Mark closed his book, and with a “Good night, Pa,”  he went off to bed.  Lucas sat for a long time wondering about the reason for Mark’s questions and what Mark wasn’t telling him.

                It was another perfect Saturday morning, bright sunshine, blue sky and a soft warm breeze – a perfect day to go fishing Lucas thought, so why was Mark so distracted?  Mark stumbled and dropped the firewood; he sloshed half the water from the bucket rushing to the pigpen and he jumped a foot when Lucas entered their bedroom to see what was taking Mark so long to come to breakfast. “Are you alright, Mark?  You feeling okay?”  Lucas still worried that Mark’s injuries might not be totally healed even though it had been months since he was kidnapped.  “I’m fine, Pa.  I just don’t want to be late meeting Freddy and the guys.”  Lucas considered his son’s nervousness but let it pass.  “Well, you’re taking the time for breakfast first. There’re flapjacks waiting for you with fresh maple syrup.”  Mark rushed past Lucas to the table and began to quickly down his Pa’s delicious flapjacks, after drowning them in syrup.  Conversation was minimal because every reply Mark gave to Lucas’ questions was muffled by the food stuffed in his mouth.

                “Got to go, Pa, they’ll be waiting for me.” “Alright, son, have a good time and don’t forget, we’re counting on you for dinner.” Mark smiled, “I remember, Pa.”  He raced out the front door and he and Blueboy started for the river.

                Lucas cleaned up the breakfast dishes and had another cup of coffee before starting to work on the stall in the barn.  He was in the barn, nailing slats on the stall when he heard someone ride up.  Picking up his rifle, he walked outside to see Micah dismounting.  “Micah, good morning!  How about a cup of coffee?  I could use a break.”  “Fine, Lucas, but I can’t stay long. Is Mark here?”  Lucas was concerned.  “No, Micah, he left over an hour ago to go fishing.  Why?  Is something wrong?”  Micah squinted in the bright morning sun, “I don’t know, Lucasboy. Remember that Abbott fellow from last week?  Well, his wife came to me this morning.  Seems the father and son had another fight.  This time the boy got the better of his pa.  He ran off after it, but she’s afraid of what her husband will do to him.  He’s gone to find him and “finish” the fight, she says.”  “Finish the fight?  What do you mean, Micah?  Does he mean to kill his own boy?” Lucas’ disgust was evident on his face.  “I don’t know, but if I can find either one of them, maybe I can stop a bad ending.  They both like to use their guns to solve things.”

                “So, why are you looking for Mark?”  “Didn’t Mark say young Abbott went fishing with them last week?”  Lucas nodded.  “Well, I was hoping Mark would tell me where they went fishing.”  “I’ll show you Micah.  It’s Mark’s favorite fishing spot on the river.  Mark’s there now.  I’ll get ready and we’ll go there.”  Lucas saddled Razor and entered the house to take some extra bullets just in case.  As he started to put his rifle in the holder by the door,  he noticed that Mark’s rifle was not in its place next to his.  Why would Mark take his rifle to go fishing?  Mark knows he isn’t supposed to carry his rifle without Lucas knowing about it.  Equal portions of fear and anger fueled Lucas’ movements as he ran to Razor and mounted in one motion.  As he slid his rifle into the holder, he spurred Razor on.  “C’mon, Micah, something’s not right.  Mark’s rifle’s gone from the house.”  The two men galloped toward the river, Lucas in the lead, his face set in angry, fearful determination.

                Mark, Freddy and Jimmy were all at the river. They were fishing, but Mark’s mind wasn’t on his catch.  Freddy had to remind him to pull one in.  The Conklin boys rode up.  Little Jacob rode behind Tommy.  “Why’d you bring him with you?” Freddy asked, “He’ll make noise and he’ll tell what’s going to happen.”   “Ma made us bring him.  He’ll be quiet, right, Jacob?”  “Right, Tommy” 5 year old Jacob replied as Tommy helped him to the ground.  “Now you play quiet-like and don’t go far off. “  Jacob immediately started searching for wood sticks so he could build a fort.

                “Where’s Doug?”  Mark asked Matt.  “Don’t know, “ Matt replied, “We waited for him to come over and then thought he must have come here already.”  “Nope, we haven’t seen him.”  “Well, maybe he was too scared to have a shooting match.” Freddy joked and the boys all laughed.  Mark hoped so – his hands were sweating and he was worried about his not telling Pa about what was happening today.

                “I’m not scared!”  Doug’s loud voice startled the boys.  None of them had heard him ride up.  The sound of his voice wasn’t all that startled them.  Doug’s face was a mess.  His  eye was discolored; there was a bruise on his jaw and his lip was swollen.  “Golly, Doug, what happened to you?”  Tommy questioned.  “Nothin’, nothin’ happened to me!  It’s none of your business.”  Doug sneered, “Well, Rifleman’s son, you ready for our shooting match?”  “My name is Mark and I’m ready.  You just get off that horse and we’ll get set up. “ Mark told him.  Doug slowly dismounted and it seemed to Mark that he wasn’t moving well.  “You alright, Doug?”  “I’m fine!  Now stop talking so we can start shooting.”

                As Mark watched Doug’s slow movements, he knew Doug had taken a beating – a bad one.  Mark’s own body remembered the pain of broken bones and aching muscles.  “Are you sure you want to do this today?  We can do it next week.”  Mark offered.  The fury in Doug’s face caused the boys to step back.  “I said now, not next week.  Are you too scared to face me, Rifleman’s son?”  “Alright, Doug, you’ve got your match!”  Mark yelled back, his own anger rising at Doug’s taunting.

                Freddy and Tommy set up 10 cans on a log they had already picked out.  Matt went to find Jacob before any shooting started.  Ma would kill him if Jacob got hurt.  Mark checked his rifle and mentally went over all the lessons Pa gave him.  Doug stood glowering at the cans – like they had done something to make him mad.

                When everything was set and Matt had Jacob firmly by the hand, Freddy told them the rules.  Each shooter would take five shots.  Mark would go first, then Doug.  They would go to another round if there was a tie.  “Ready, Mark?”  Mark nodded. “Shoot!”  Mark aimed carefully and squeezed the trigger – BAM and the ping of the can being hit was music to his ears.  He started to relax.  He hit the next two targets, missed the fourth but hit the fifth one.  “Four hits for Mark!”  Tommy called out.  “Doug, it’s your turn.  Shoot!”  Doug drew his gun and shot – he missed his first shot and Mark smiled.  Doug hit the remaining four.  They were tied.

                “Looks like we need round two!  Get ready while we set up again.”  Freddy instructed Mark and Doug.  Matt kept Jacob next to him as he retrieved the cans.

                “So you like shootin’ at empty cans?  You stinkin’ kid!  You thought I couldn’t find you!”  George Abbott nudged his horse from the trees.  His gun was drawn and aimed at Doug.  Abbott’s face looked even worse than Doug’s – one eye was swollen and there was dried blood over his eyebrow.  It looked like his nose was broken, too.  “You, boy!  (He motioned to Mark) Put down that rifle.”  Mark put the rifle down at his feet, his eyes never leaving George Abbott’s face. What was he going to do?

                Lucas and Micah heard the sound of gunfire and turned their horses toward the sound. Lucas pulled his rifle from the holder and slowed Razor to a walk.  He didn’t want to ride into a situation and make it worse.  Micah motioned to Lucas that he would circle around to his right.  Lucas’ heart was racing.  What had Mark gotten himself into?  Lord, don’t let him be hurt. They’d been through so much.  But he couldn’t let himself be distracted from the problem he faced right now.

                Mark spoke first, “Mr. Abbott, we’re just having a shooting match, sir.  There’s not any trouble here.”  “There’s always trouble where this ungrateful whelp is; well, the trouble stops today.” Abbott growled.   He dismounted and walked away from his horse.  “Okay, boy, think you can beat your old man?  Well, you can try.”  Doug’s face was contorted with anger and hatred but Mark saw tears in his eyes.  “I’ll holster my gun, boy and we’ll draw on 3.”  Mark called out, “Mr. Abbott, don’t draw, don’t shoot!  Doug, drop your gun belt.  He won’t shoot you unarmed.  Doug, listen to me!”  Doug’s voice shook with hatred, “Oh, he’ll shoot or he’ll punch or he’ll strap me!  He’s been doing it my whole life but I’m not that scared little boy anymore. I’m a man now and a better man that he is!”  Abbot baited his son, “You’re not a man at all – you ain’t got the guts to shoot!”

                “No one’s doing any shooting!”  Lucas’ voice rang out like a shot.  “Drop  your gun, Abbott.  You, too, Doug.  Now!”  Lucas ordered.  Mark’s whole body felt the relief of his Pa being there.

                Micah held his shotgun as he spoke from the other side of the clearing.  “Abbot, drop your gun – do like you’re told! Boy, you take off that gun belt and drop it to the ground! Both of you, now!”  Doug looked toward Micah and then to Lucas and finally back to his father, “I’m not taking no more!  Dying's better than living with him.”  “He’s not worth dying over, boy,” Lucas told him, “put down your guns now!”  Lucas was aware that Abbot could easily shoot Mark or any of the other boys. He caught Mark’s eye and motioned to him to get down on the ground.  Mark looked at Freddy, Jimmy and the Conklin’s.  As he flattened himself to the ground, they did, too.  Matt held Jacob close to him as Jacob started to cry.  He didn’t know what was happening, but it wasn’t fun anymore.

                Only Abbott, Doug, Micah and Lucas remained standing:  Abbott  & Doug locked in a hate-filled, deadly stare down.  Micah spoke again, “Boy, killing your father won’t stop your trouble.  It’s just beginning.  What’ll happen to your Ma?”  “ I don’t know, Marshal, but she’ll be better off without him.”  Doug’s voice was angry, but Mark saw a tear slide down his check.  Mark called out to him, “Doug, don’t shoot your pa.  You don’t want to kill your own pa!”  “Yes, I do!  What do you know, the Rifleman’s son – your Pa never beat on you!  What do you know?”

                “Mark.”  Lucas spoke his name and put his finger to his lips to silence his son.  Lucas spoke to Doug, “Doug, a man doesn’t beat up on a boy and a man doesn’t shoot and kill his own pa.  You want to be a man, son – put your gun down.  The Marshal will take care of your pa.”  Doug looked at Lucas and he wavered in his resolve. Lucas sounded so sure.  He wanted it to be over.  He unbuckled his gun belt.

                “Losin’ your nerve, kid?  Didn’t expect any less of you.  I’m glad to be rid of you!”  Abbott drew his gun, but Lucas shot is out of his hand before it cleared the holster.  Abbott let out a howl of pain.  His hand was shot through.  Micah rushed in and got Abbott on the ground.  Lucas walked over the Doug and took his gun belt.  “You did right, son.”  Doug looked at Lucas, almost numb.  He turned to Micah, “Marshal, can I go home and see my Ma?”  “Go home, boy, she’s waiting for you.  Don’t worry about  him (motioning to Abbott) – he won’t be around for a long time.”

                Doug walked toward his horse.  Freddy and Jimmy were already on their feet; Matt Conklin walked over to where Tommy and Jacob lay on the ground wondering why they hadn’t gotten up yet.  Mark rose, picked up his rifle and walked to where his Pa was standing.  He felt both relief and dread – relieved his father got there in time to stop the trouble, but dreading his explaining to him how the trouble started in the first place.

                “Tommy, don’t move, hold Jacob still!”  Matt yelled, “Mr. McCain, there’s a rattler”!  Lucas dropped the gun belt; Mark ran to Matt and saw the rattler coiled within two feet of Jacob’s leg.  “Don’t move Jacob!” Tommy held Jacob tight.  Mark raised his rifle, aimed and shot the rattler – killed him with one shot.  Jacob was still crying as Tommy lifted him up.

                “Nice shot, son!”  Lucas spoke from behind Mark.  He had already lowered his rifle.  “Quick thinking, too, Mark.   You saved Jacob & Tommy from that rattler.”  Mark turned to his father and nodded, but it had all happened so fast that his head was swimming.

                Micah tied Abbott’s hands to the saddle horn.  His wounded hand was bandaged and he’d have Doc look at him when they got back to town.  Doug thanked Micah and Lucas and Mark, then rode off.  Freddy and Jimmy tied the fish Mark caught to his saddle.  Tommy, Matt and Jacob all thanked Mark – Jacob even gave him a hug.  The boys were all buzzing about the events and how Mark killed the rattler. “Wait till all the kids hear about this at school on Monday!”  Jimmy said, “Mark you’re a great shot!  Wait’ll they hear!”

                “No one has to hear, Jimmy. I don’t want everyone to know all the bad things about Doug and I don’t want anyone to think I’m something special because I killed a rattler.  If I hadn’t shot it, my Pa would have or Micah.  I was just closer.”  “C’mon, Mark, that was good shooting.”  Mark considered this but said, “Maybe, but I don’t want everyone to know.  It’s between us.  Alright?”  Mark looked at his friends who all nodded even though they were disappointed at not being able to brag about Mark’s shooting, but glad about having a secret just between them.

                Lucas swung Jacob on the horse behind Tommy and cautioned the boys to go straight home.  Freddy said good bye and waited for Jimmy.  Jimmy collected all the empty cans in a sack to save for the next shooting match.  His horse shied a bit at the sound of the clanking cans.  As they both rode off, Lucas turned to Mark, “Are you ready to go home, son?”  “Yes, Sir.”  “Let’s go.”

                Mark put his rifle in the holder and mounted Blueboy . Lucas swung up on Razor and slipped his rifle into the holder and they started off toward home.

                It wasn’t a long ride but Mark wished it was a longer one.  He glanced at his father. Lucas’s face was expressionless.  Mark couldn’t tell if he was angry or how angry he was.  Mark knew he had several transgressions to explain:  he took his rifle without telling Pa; he had Pa help him practice shooting all week without telling him why;  he had a shooting contest when he said he was fishing – well , he did actually catch a couple of fish, so that wasn’t a total lie.  Lie – just that word made Mark regret the day’s events. Mark never lied to Lucas and Lucas never lied to Mark.  It was a special understanding they had. Mark felt he had broken that understanding.

                They arrived at the ranch after a very quiet ride home.  “I’ll take care of the horses, son, you clean the fish.  We’ll get dinner started in a few minutes.”  “Yes, Pa.” Mark slid from Blueboy’s back and headed for the kitchen. He had the fish cleaned by the time Lucas came in carrying both rifles.  He placed them in their holders by the door.  “Tables set, Pa, and the fish are ready for cooking.”  “I’ll fry them up with some potatoes.  There’s bread on the counter, Mark. Please put it on the table.”

                The delicious smell and the sizzling sounds of their dinner being cooked filled the cabin.  There wasn’t any other conversation.  When they were sitting with the meal in front of them, Lucas asked Mark to say grace:  “Lord, bless our food, our home and our family.  For these we give thanks.  Amen”  “Amen, “ Lucas added and started to fill Mark’s dish and his own.

                The silence was too much for Mark. “Pa, are you mad at me?”  “For what, Mark.”  “For taking my rifle without permission, for not telling you about the shooting match and, I guess, for lying about going fishing.”  “You guess?”  “No, sir, for lying to you.”  Lucas looked seriously at Mark, “We’ll talk after dinner, Mark.  Let’s enjoy the food.”  “Yes, sir.”  Mark replied, but now he knew how a condemned man felt when he was eating his last meal.  Pa must be really mad not to want to talk. It was true that his Pa never “beat on him” like Doug’s did, but Mark almost wished he would so it’d be over. Disappointing Lucas hurt Mark much more than a strapping might.

                Dinner was a pretty quiet event – the scraping of forks on the china sounding very loud to Mark’s ears.  As soon as they were done, Mark jumped up. “I’ll clean up tonight, Pa.”  “Alright, son, come out on the porch when you’re done.”  Lucas took a cigar from the jar and left the house, leaving the front door open.  From the porch, he heard the sounds of Mark cleaning the table and washing the pots and dishes – dropping one pot twice in the process  - as if he were a little nervous tonight.  Lucas smiled and leaned back in his chair.

                It seemed to Lucas that Mark took a very long time to finish cleaning up and join him on the porch.  It was late afternoon and the shadows were getting longer.  Mark finally came out and sat on the bench next to Lucas’ chair.  Lucas took a long drag on his cigar and slowly let the smoke out.  Then he flipped the cigar into the dirt.  “Mark, I want to talk to you about today.”  “I know, Pa, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”  “If you spoke to me first, Mark, maybe we could have figured something out.”  “Pa, I had to try to do this myself.  I can’t run to you like a little boy every time I have a problem.”  “No, you can’t, son, but you have to know when a problem is too big for you alone.  That’s what growing up means.”  Mark waited for a couple of minutes before asking, “Will you take away my rifle?”  Lucas looked at him before replaying, “No, it’s your rifle.  I gave it to you and I won’t take it away.”  Mark’s relief was short-lived.  “But I will lock it up when we aren’t hunting or you haven’t asked me for it, until I can trust you to use it again.”  “Yes, Pa.”  A little piece of Mark’s heart broke at that – his Pa didn’t trust him.  He would earn that trust back no matter what it took. 

                “Pa, I’m really sorry about today.  I didn’t know about Doug and his Pa.”  “None of us did, son, at least not the whole story.  But that doesn’t justify what you did.  You and the other boys – even little Jacob could have been hurt or killed if bullets started to fly.”  “I know, Pa, I’m sorry.”  Mark said again.  “Saying you’re sorry is one thing, Mark, learning from this mistake is even more important.  It’s the way we grow up.”  “Whatever punishment you think is right, Pa, I won’t complain.”  “They’ll be no punishment beyond restricting your rifle.”  “You mean that, Pa?”

                Lucas leaned forward and put his hand on Mark’s knee, “Mark, you acted with a lot of courage today, trying to get Doug to drop his gun and your quick thinking and good shooting saved the lives of Jacob and Tommy. I’m proud of the way you handled yourself, too, not letting the boys brag about you at school.  I figure all that good more than balances out your mistakes.”  “Really, Pa?  I never meant to lie to you and I will never do it again. I give you my word.”  Mark extended his hand to Lucas.

                As Lucas shook his son’s hand, he felt more pride than he thought possible. “When a man gives you his word, you know you can count on it.  I know you’ll keep your word, son.”  Mark’s face reflected Lucas’ love and pride.  “Now, we’d better get our rifles cleaned before it gets too dark.”  “Yes, Pa.”  Mark went to get their guns.

                Lucas and Mark sat on the porch cleaning their guns in a comfortable silence.  Lucas remembered how Mark used to watch him perform this chore, now they both had work to do.  Lucas felt deep in his heart that Margaret was proud of her two men.

THE END

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