In the morning, Randy massaged her sore skin after Zhang’s treatment. Sometimes she was fine after his treatments but that one was painful to recover from.
Trevor left to take Zhang home. Randy only needed to be treated once a day and she promised him she would go to Zhang at his brother’s store for her next treatments.
Randy tried putting more weight on her leg. It still hurt like mad but for short walks, it wasn’t going to make her cry. She dressed the way Miss Marla would say was civilized in her skirt and button shirt.
Miss Daisy hollered at someone outside. They had a hired farmhand that was there in the morning but the tone in her voice was alarming. Randy pulled the lace curtain back slightly to peer outside. A well-dressed, greasy-haired man was standing at the bottom of the steps all haughty-like. Daisy waved her arms angrily at him. He pointed at Al standing at the side of the house and started walking over that way. Randy pulled out her pistol and slid it in the waist of her skirt. She had her shotgun in hand as she limped as fast as she could to the front porch.
“Forgive me Pa,” she whispered checking to see if her shotgun was still loaded.
“Who is it, Miss Daisy?” Randy asked heading over to the side rail of the porch.
“What do you think your doin’ with that gun?” Miss Daisy’s hands went right to her hips.
“Takin’ care of you. What’s goin’ on?” Randy ignored Miss Daisy’s protests and had the gun ready as she stood near the rail when the strange man approached Al. “He don’t take kindly to strangers.”
The man turned to face her and his eyes widened when they met the barrel of her shotgun.
“And I don’t either. What’s your business here?” Randy asked.
“Now see here, little girl. I was here to talk to Miss Daisy about how she got herself such a fine specimen of a horse on her property when she can’t pay the fees for the town’s protection.”
“Well, see here, Mister. That horse is mine, not hers. And where I come from, no one pays for the town’s protection. Especially when one can take care of it themselves.” She cocked the gun still pointing it at his chest.
“Now if you ain’t from here, you shouldn’t go makin’ enemies of the lawkeepers in town.”
“I wouldn’t be makin’ no enemies with the lawkeepers here if they weren’t givin’ me good reason to. Now back off from my horse. He will hurt you before I do. I guarantee it. And I’m a pretty good shot. I never miss.” Randy squinted at him and knew what game he would try to play with her to see if what she said was true.
“Now, smart mouth little girls don’t last long around here either, mind you.” He headed for the rail. She shot the ground in front of his foot. He backed up and glanced over at Al again. Randy whistled signaling for Al to leave. Al took off at a full run.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve.”
“And so do you.” She cocked her gun once more. He wanted to make her shoot her last round.
“You hurt me and you have my deputies to answer to.”
“Yeah, well what you gonna tell them? You was shot by a smart mouthed little girl? Go ahead, try me. I’d love to see you go back and tell the men how I messed ya up. I’m a good shot, I’m tellin’ ya.”
“Who are you?”
“You might ask me who my pa is first.”
“Who is your pa?
“James Carter.”
He looked at her puzzled until it started to register.
“I knew you’d know him. Do you believe me now that I’m a good shot?”
YOU ARE READING
Little Sharpshooter
Historical FictionSixteen-year-old Randy has been playing games with her pa for as long as she can remember. When shots are fired while she's tending her ill-tempered horse one morning, the game that plays out becomes one of survival for Randy. Outlaws have shown up...
