Luke said. âThank you for telling me, Señorita Diaz. That way I wonât say anything to the marshal that might be awkward.â
âOf course. You would have no way of knowing.â She pointed along a hallway that led toward the back of the house. âYou can go out that way, Señor Jensen.â
Luke nodded his thanks, put his hat on again, and found the back door. He thought about what he had just learned from Consuela Diaz. It seemed the young marshal was a widower and had a mighty pretty housekeeper and cook to help him raise his son.
Whatever else she might help him with was none of his business, Luke told himself, but he was human enough that he couldnât help wondering about it.
When he stepped out into the yard, he spotted Marshal Hatfield and the boy standing under a cottonwood tree, facing away from him toward a fence about twenty feet from them. Empty cans were balanced on three of the fence posts. It was obvious to Luke what Hatfield and Bucky were doing.
For one thing, Bucky was wearing a gun belt and holstered revolver, too. The gun was a Smith & Wesson. 32 with no trigger guard, lighter, with a shorter barrel than the Colt Peacemaker Hatfield carried, and more suited to the youngster.
Neither of them seemed to have noticed Luke.
As he approached, Hatfield said to his son, âAll right, Buck, letâs see your draw. Remember, you want it to be fast, but it needs to be smooth, too. Thatâs even more important. Donât jerk the gun. Itâs liable to throw off your aim if you do.â
Bucky nodded, concentrating on the cans atop the fence posts. His right hand was poised for a hook and draw. He grabbed the .32 and pulled it from the holster.
The draw was pretty swift for a kid, Luke thought, and clearly Bucky had been listening to his paâs advice because the gun came out slick and smooth. He lifted it, thumb curling over the hammer and drawing it back, and when the gun came level Bucky squeezed the trigger.
The hammer clicked as it fell on an empty chamber. Bucky cocked and dry-fired the revolver twice more, rapidly shifting his aim each time.
Hatfield clapped him on the shoulder. âNot bad, son. Not bad at all. I think you mightâve gotten all three of those cans.â
âI agree,â Luke said.
Hatfield looked back at him casually. His lack of being startled made Luke realize the marshal had been aware of his presence all along.
Bucky looked around quickly, though, and exclaimed, âMr. Jensen! The bounty hunter!â
âSome men donât like being called that, Bucky,â his father advised.
âItâs all right,â Luke said with a little wave of his hand. âThat doesnât bother me. Itâs exactly what I am.â
âHave you been by the jail?â Hatfield asked.
âJust a little while ago. Your deputy seemed to have things under control.â
Hatfield nodded. âFredâs a good man. He hasnât been packing a badge for very long, but heâs eager to learn and heâs taken to the job well.â
Bucky spoke up. âMy paâs teachinâ me how to be fast on the draw, Mr. Jensen.â
âI saw that,â Luke told him. âIt looks like youâre learning, too. I donât think many youngsters your age could get a gun out that slick.â
âYou should see Pa draw and shoot. Heâs the fastest there is!â
Hatfield said, âDonât exaggerate, Bucky. There are plenty of men faster than me.â
âShow him, Pa,â the youngster urged. âShow Mr. Jensen your draw.â
âNo, Iâm sure Mr. Jensen has better things to do than stand around and watch me shoot.â
âAs a matter of fact,â Luke said, âI donât. Iâm just waiting for supper to be ready, and your housekeeper talked like it would still be a few minutes.â
Hatfieldâs eyes narrowed. âYou wouldnât be wanting to get some idea
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