Second Hand Colt

By George M. Goodwin

"He's nothing but a kid," said the big man.
"Maybe so," said Boot, "but I told you what I saw."
"Was that before or after you started in drinking Boot? "
"Somebody ask him." Looking at me he said, "can you do it again?"
"You mean shoot a bottle?" I ask him.
"Well that's what you done last night ain't it?"
"Sure I can," I said, "but you fellows must be mighty hard up for entertainment around here."
The big man shouted to the bartender, "give me an empty bottle."
"Let's go outside," he told me and we walked out followed by every one of them in there. Even the bartender came from behind the bar and followed us.
The big man told another to take the bottle down to the end of the street. "Boot you tell him when he gets in the right spot." When it was in place and the man had moved back out of the way the big man turned and asked me, "where's your rifle?".
"Don't need it for this, "I said. Looking down the street I said, "the bottle's laying different."
He turned toward the other men and said, "and now the excuses start boys."
Not liking his attitude, I drew fired and holstered that Colt before the shards of glass quit falling.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pale Horse Publications
• Release date: May 31, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227635228

George M. Goodwin

George was born in 1960 in Jefferson County Alabama. The fifth of nine children, eight boys and one girl. The family was raised poor, but not poorly raised. At home, George was taught morals, ethics and respect. Reading, writing and arithmetic at school. Love, honor and obedience to God at church. He grew up on John Wayne movies, country music and the writings of Louis L' Amour, Robert Louis Stevenson, H.G. Wells and Jules Verne.  

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I Used To Be A Gambler

Why I’d even taken this job had an easy answer. It paid money and right then I had none. I was no lawman, I was barely even a westerner. Just over a year ago I was making my living as a riverboat gambler in New Orleans. Until a week long run of bad luck showed me how fragile that occupation could be. When I found myself down to my last fifty dollars, it set me to thinking. What I came up with was that a twenty-year-old man should have more than the clothes on his back, a horse and a second-hand Colt. I could use that Colt, fact is, I’d been told by some I was real good with it. I guess I could have used it to have about anything I wanted, but I just never leaned in that direction. Not that being a gambler topped anybody’s list as being a legitimate profession either, but at least I played an honest hand, win or lose. I cheated no man and had only used that Colt to keep what was mine that including my own life. 

That life had started in 1848. Born to an Irish farmer and his wife in a little town called Andalusia, Alabama. That town was so small you could chunk a rock clean over it in any direction. Now here I was hunkered down behind some boulders just outside of a little town they were calling Freeman and feeling like anything but a free man. It lay about twenty miles south and west of Austin Texas right at the base of a mountain.

I wasn't what you might call a good situation.

If I didn’t figure something out soon this may be where I was from, from now on. Leastwise, what’s left of me when the buzzards and coyotes was done picking my bones. My name is Dan McKay. Named for my pa Aidan McKay. My ma had died from fever when I was knee high to a short sheep. Me and pa, we did all right though. He was a farmer and a good one and he’d taught me all he knew about it. I had taken a load of turnip greens into town to sell one day and as I was coming back in the farm yard I saw pa in the field surrounded by four Yankee soldiers. 

Pa had that old rifle of his in his hand so when I stepped down from the wagon, I grabbed that old double barrel scatter gun we kept under the seat and laid both hammers back. As I was walking toward them, I saw them all raise their pistols and shoot pa down. Well sir I let rip with both barrels of that scatter gun right at them. They never saw it put me on my butt. They was too busy taking out of there like the hounds of hell was chasing them. I didn’t think to reload in case they came back, but went straight to Pa. He was hit hard by one of the slugs and I think we both knew he didn’t have long. They didn’t get my rifle did they boy? he said. 

Looking over at it I said, no sir Pa, it’s still right here. 

Listen to me boy he said, you take everything worth anything and go somewhere else. You’ve been a good son Dan, and I’m proud of you. You wasn’t cut out to be no farmer though. Go today Dan, he said then he closed his eyes and his hand went limp in mine. 

Going to the barn for a shovel, I buried Pa right there in the fields that he loved so much. I had taken his rifle and the shotgun to the wagon when I went for the shovel and strapped on my old Colt revolver. It was good that I did. As I finished burying Pa, I looked up to see them four soldiers coming across the field at me. 

See I told you, said one when they stopped a short distance off. It’s just a kid, let's go on and get what we want. 

You’ll get nothing here, I said, now go away. 

Shoot him, said one, and let’s see what’s in the house. As his hand started for his gun I drew and fired four quick shots and emptied four saddles. I took their pistols and rifles and caught up the reins of three of their horses. One took out when I shot the man who rode him. I went to the wagon, tied the horses to the back and loaded the guns in the bed. I loaded a few things from the house then went to the barn. I loaded Pa's plows and other tools in the wagon and saddled Jess, our old riding horse. I gathered my own few belongings and headed back toward town. I rode Jess and trailed the mule and horses behind the wagon. At the general store I told Mr. Jimmy about Pa being killed and what I’d done to the soldiers, then I told him what Pa had told me to do. 

It’s for the best son, he said. Your pa was the second one shot down this week. Just for not giving up their gun. If they find out you killed them soldiers, they’ll hang you for sure or you’ll be taken prisoner by the Union soldiers. He looked the things over and told me he would bury the saddles as they were stamped U.S. and would give him misery if he was caught with them. For everything else I’ll give you a hundred and eighty-five dollars. We shook on it and then I bought a few supplies for the trail. Where you headed? he asked me.

Mobile first, I told him, from there I plumb don’t know Mr. Jim, just away from here. 

At that time, I’d never been more than ten miles from the farm so he told me the best way to get to Mobile. We shook hands again and I hit the trail. I found Mobile right like he said and it was a bustling town, far bigger than anything I’d seen before. It took me a minute to get my bearings, but the day after arriving I got a job on a freight boat hauling between Mobile and New Orleans. I made five round trips for twenty-five dollars a trip. As we started to leave on the sixth, I told the captain I would be staying in New Orleans when we got there and ask about taking my horse. He said, yes, but he would have to charge me freight. I wound up bartering my labor on the trip there for the freight on Jess. That would allow me to keep what I’d made on the boat plus most of what was left from pa’s tools and the soldiers things in my pocket. All total I had three hundred dollars when we reached New Orleans. 

The captain told me I had been a good worker and that if I changed my mind to come on back. If he had no opening, he’d find me one on another boat. Back at home after the day’s work was over and supper dishes were cleaned, Pa would pull out an old deck of cards. He taught me how to play and also how to stack a deck and deal from the bottom and such. Not to be used, he told me, but so no one could use them against me. We only played for buttons, but the lessons was what was important, he said. 

I intended to try my hand at gambling here in New Orleans. I had once met a gambler passing through Andalusia and he was about the best dressed man I’d ever seen. A black suit and hat with shiny black boots and a big gold pocket watch on a chain. I watched as he paid Mr. Jimmy for some things in the store from a wad of bills that would choke a horse. I guess it made an impression on me. The first game I found after getting there was in a man’s backyard. We played all night and as the sun was rising, I went to my room with three hundred and eighty dollars in my pocket. That may not be a lot to some folks, but it was more than what Pa made in a year of farming. It was also more than most other jobs paid a year too. I went that same day and bought me a black suit and hat and some other things. I had Pa’s pocket watch and would rather have it than ten new gold ones. My boots were in good shape just in need of a shine which I took care of back in my room. 

I was just a boy of fifteen at the time, but that suit added years to my looks. That night I found a game in a saloon near where I was staying. By morning I was up two hundred dollars and had met a man who told me about the river boats. He said he’d done most of his playing on them. You have to be very honest or real slick though, he said. If you’re caught cheating, they'll either kill you or throw you over the rails or both. Sometimes a mile or more from the shore and brother that water is cold at night and full of alligators and snakes, he said. That sounded like experience talking to me so I fought shy of playing any more poker with him. He may not be slick enough for the players on the boats, but might be too slick for me. 

For three years I made my living as a river boat gambler. Pa had taught me the game well. My third year on the boats I caught a man bottom dealing and called him on it. He went for his gun and bottom dealing wasn’t the only thing he was no good at. Two men carried him out and later when I asked if I needed to report the man I’d killed when we got into port, they asked, what man? 

'Okay so that’s how it is,' I thought. After four years of being up a thousand dollars one week and down that much the next I found myself having just fifty in my pocket. I had been on a week long run of bad luck and saw no letup in sight. Luckily my room I paid for by the month. In it that night I did some serious thinking.

I decided a twenty-year-old man should have more than the clothes on his back and a second-hand Colt. I decided it was time I moved on and found what I was supposed to do in life. When we reached New Orleans, I went to the stables for Jess. The livery man said I owed him six dollars. I offered to cut cards double or nothing. Damn that bad luck anyway. So with thirty-eight dollars in my pocket. I rode out of New