His father bent over the rifle action, examining it. Then he stepped
over to place the weapon in a rack. Finally, he turned, to look
searchingly at his son.
"Permanent?"
"Afraid so, Dad. I guess I sort of blew up."
"Want to tell me about it?"
The older man motioned Don to a camp stool and pulled one over for
himself. As Don talked, he listened intently. At last, he nodded.
"So that's all of that, eh?"
"Guess it is, Dad. Looks as though I'll have to start working for my
keep. Won't be any police official in the family after all."
"Could be." Kent Michaels got up and reached out to the weapons rack.
"Got one more shot on this target. Then we'll talk it over, hm-m-mm?"
He stepped up to a line inlaid in the floor. Deliberately, he placed a
cartridge in the rifle and closed the action. Then, he raised the
weapon, seated it on his shoulder, and brought it into position with a
twisting motion.
Don watched, smiling in spite of himself, as the front sight rose and
fell with his father's breathing. That routine never changed. From the
time the Old Man picked up his weapon till he laid it down, you could
predict every move he'd make.
The motion stopped and for endless seconds, the man stood motionless,
the muzzle of his rifle probing steadily toward the lighted space
downrange. Then the front sight jumped upward, settled back, and
steadied again.
"Looked good." Kent Michaels let the weapon down, opened the action and
checked it, then racked the weapon. He touched a button near the firing
line and waited for the target to come in to him.
Deliberately, he unclipped the sheet of paper, laid it down, and
clipped another in its place. He touched another button, then picked up
the fired target and bent over it, checking his score. Finally, he
looked up.
"Ninety-seven," he said. "Four X's. Think you can beat it?" He walked
back to the rack and picked out a rifle. After glancing into the
action, he held it out toward Don.
"Zero hasn't been changed since you fired it last. Want to take a
couple of free ones anyway, just to be sure?"
Don looked at him indignantly.
"Good grief, Dad," he objected. "This is no time for a rifle match."
"Good as any, I'd say," his father told him. "Go ahead. There's a block
of ammo at the point. Take your time, but you'll have to make 'em
good." He sat down on his camp stool and waited.
Don looked at him for a few seconds, then shook his head resignedly and
stepped up to the line.
"Oh, well," he said. "I'll try. Never mind the zero rounds."
He loaded the rifle and brought it to his shoulder. The sight weaved
and bobbed. He brought it down again and looked back at his father. The
older man pulled a cigarette from his breast pocket.
"Go ahead," he said calmly. "Take a few deep breaths. And relax."
Don bowed his shoulders and let the rifle hang loosely from his
outstretched arms. He looked downrange, trying to drive everything out
of his mind but the target hanging down there. Finally, he raised the
weapon again. The sight bobbed about, then steadied. He put pressure on
the trigger, then growled softly as the weapon fired.
"Oh, no! Drifted off at three o'clock."
His father exhaled a small cloud of smoke and said nothing. Don looked
at him unhappily for a moment, then reloaded and brought the rifle up
again.
Finally, the tenth shot smacked against the backstop and he racked his
weapon and punched at the target return button.
His father got up and unclipped the sheet.
"Well, let's see," he said. "Eight, nine, nine ... here's a nipper ten
... nine ... oh, me! You didn't do so well, did you?"
"What would you expect?" grumbled Don. "Give me a couple of hours to
simmer down and I'll take you on. Beat you, too."
"Suppose you got into a fight, Don?" his father asked. "Think the guy'd
give you a couple hours to simmer down? So you could maybe shoot his
eye out?"
* * * * *
He turned and led the way to a couple of lounge chairs.
"Sit down," he advised. "And turn on that light, will you?" He leaned
back.
"So you gave Andy Masterson a fast outline on manners, eh?" He laughed
softly. "Boy, I'd like to have seen his face about then!"