Posted February 3, 2018

Joint Post: Quentin Cantrell, H.G. Mercer

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Harriet had met Quentin precisely a half hour later clad in a split riding skirt, jacket and tall boots. She had loosened her hair and pulled it back into a clasp at the nape of her neck. On her head, she wore a flat brimmed gaucho-style hat. With the court case behind them and despite Case Steelgrave's threat, she felt an odd sense of abandon and good spirits. At the livery stable, there had been no sign of Shade. Harriet felt a mild quiver of concern, but set it aside. He had been taking care of himself for several years so she turned her attention to the selection of horses and vehicles. They had driven from the ranch in a comfortable carriage, but it was large and bulky for just two people. After a few moments of conversation with the owner of the livery stable, Harriet chose a smart high-wheeled buggy, well-sprung and lightweight. To pull it, she chose a tall, liver chestnut mare that the stable manager said was a cross between a Standardbred and Hackney Coach Horse. After watching him trot the mare the length of the barn, she pronounced her satisfaction with the animal and proceeded to follow behind the man double checking the harness and traces.

If Quentin had been expecting a sedate drive to the country, he was doomed to disappointment. Harriet took charge of the reins and whip. She kept the mare to a brisk walk until they cleared the town's speed ordnances. As soon as they were on the open road, she expertly snapped the whip. Its tip never touched the mare's flanks. Striking the horse was not required. Just the sound sent the mare into a fast trot. The buggy was nowhere near as good as Harriet's racing sulkies, but it was quite well-made and stable, even on the sharper curves. As they descended a hill onto a flat, straight stretch of road, she called out to the mare to get a move on. The horse proved her mettle. Without ever breaking her gait, she fairly flew along the road. Finally, well-clear of Kalispell where gunshots would alarm no one, Harriet pulled the mare to a walk and guided the carriage off the road for some distance.

Flashing Quentin a laughing smile, she leaped from the buggy and walked to the mare's head, "Oh you beauty. I might have to see if the stable manager will sell you." Harriet offered the mare a few bites of dried apple.

Quentin slowly released his white knuckled grip on his side of the buggy. He took a breath and looked around then at Harriet. "Good lord, woman..." He slowly climbed down from the buggy, his legs just a little rubbery from being braced so tight for so long. He shook each one lightly. "...Do you normally drive like that?" He held on to the buggy as he stepped around to the small rear compartment, getting out the small box of items he had bought at the general store. Quentin had been smart enough to tie it down before they left town. He tugged the blanket off the top and picked out the canteen he had placed inside. He then twisted the cap off and took a drink, then held it out toward Harriet.

Harriet laughed, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she took the canteen and took a long drink, "Not usually in a buggy not suited to racing. I need to find a place of my own with a stable so I can bring my racers. Perhaps I can start a new fad here in Kalispell."

Quentin shook his head as he set the canteen down. "Well if its all the same, I'll watch from the stands if you get that kind of racing started." Quentin left one box covered with a blanket and rummaged in the first one. He pulled out some wooden boards, leaving a set of glass bottles still inside the first box and lifted out some boxes of bullets. "So just how much shooting have you done?"

"Fang saw that I learned the basics. I can load and unload, point, aim, fire. I can also do basic maintenance," Harriet reported dutifully. "However, I have not fired a gun in many years - probably not since Fang's lessons in my late teens. In fact, until Shade handed me the rifle when we road into town yesterday morning, I have barely touched one. You have my permission to treat me as a total beginner as about all I do know about the things is that I should not point one at anything I do not wish to harm."

Quentin nodded and reached under his jacket and tugged the bird's head Colt from the holster under his arm. He pulled it out and let Harriet see it, then he flipped the loading gate open and pulled the hammer to half cock. He then turned the cylinder and let the rounds slide into his palm until the weapon was empty. He then ran the cylinder around again and then closed the gate and lowered the hammer and handed it butt first to Harriet. "Here, feel the weight and get familiar with it. I would recommend something this size but a lighter caliber unless you think you want to hit very hard."

Harriet took the gun and did as he instructed, mimicking his previous actions. With it still unloaded, she raised in order to get a feel for holding it and sighting on a target. Slanting a glance at her new mentor, she said with a faint wry tone in her voice, "Quentin, if I am going to use a gun, I want to hit very hard. Otherwise, I would rely on my knives and throwing stars." She handed the gun back to him butt-first. "We will soon know if I cannot manage this caliber, yes?"

Quentin nodded as he took the pistol back and opened the loading gate, sliding the shells back into the cylinder. He closed the gate and half cocked the Colt, checking the load before turning the weapon around and handing it to her butt first. "You're absolutely right...and my money is on you being able to handle it..." He nodded as she took the weapon. "Let me set up a target..." He went to the back of the buggy and came back with a small square of wood. He walked over a short distance, maybe fifteen feet, and set the wood in the branches of a tree. Quentin then walked back over and stood beside Harriet. "Alright, first let's just get an idea of your basic accuracy..." Quentin pointed at the board. "That's about the right height for a normal man's chest...and this is about the normal distance for a gunfight inside a room. Shoot as fast and as straight as you can...try and keep the bullets as close together as possible. Fire whenever you are ready."

Taking a deep breath, Harriet tried to make herself relax. Bringing the gun up, she squeezed off the first round and then the other five in quick succession. She opened her eyes slowly and looked over at Quentin, "How did I do?"

Quentin looked at the board, then back at Harriet. "Actually not bad, but next time keep your eyes on your target. Anything can happen while you are shooting at someone..." Quentin reached into the box and pulled another handful of shells and handed six to her. "Here you go. Reload...do it as fast as you can but still not drop any. If anything helps your shooting it will be knowing that once you are empty this is how long it will take to get reloaded."

Harriet was fairly quick with the reloading process despite being a self-proclaimed novice. Her ability with timing and numbers kicked in allowing her to precisely calculate the time it took to reload and fire the gun to empty. Unfortunately, she failed the command to keep her eyes open. At the first loud explosion of the weapon, her eyes snapped shut and stayed that way until it clicked on empty. She sighed inwardly, recalling why she had not pursued the sport of shooting. She loathed the noise. Cutting her eyes sideways at Quentin, she shrugged, "It is the noise."

Quentin nodded and rubbed his chin as he thought. "I might have an idea while you practice and get used to it." He walked back to the wagon and rummaged around, then came back with some small pieces of the blanket in the other box. He handed these over. "Put these in your ears, that should drop the noise enough for you to keep your eyes open...eventually you will be able to keep them open without effort." Quentin stopped. "Wait. I have an idea..." He ran back and then returned with some small empty bottles. He walked a short distance to the side and set them on some low rocks. "There. That should also force you to keep your eyes open as you move from target to target."

"Sadist," Harriet muttered. She took the bits of cloth and did as he instructed, resolving to start carrying some cotton with her until she was comfortable with the weapon. Harriet kept it on hand at home to use when she wanted to tune out noise when reading or working through her martial arts moves. Sometimes, she liked her surroundings to be quieter than it was possible to make them without artificial intervention.

Harriet turned to the new targets and brought the gun up. Following Quentin's previous instructions, she sighted in and fired as rapidly as possible. Despite the bits of cloth in her ears, the sound of the weapon discharging still made her flinch and blink her eyes although she did not close them entirely. Pleased with her results, Harriet smiled a bit at him and removed one of the earplugs. "Better, but I have a long way to go to reach proficient."

Quentin nodded. "Hey, you're not doing too bad for your first real shooting practice. You need practice and you will start practicing." He smiled. "Don't be too hard on yourself. It's not easy to learn especially if you are picking it up a little late." He then pointed at the Colt in Harriet's hands. "You hang on to that...I want you to go out behind the ranch house every day and fire a box of shells. We have plenty in the gun room and can buy more." Quentin rubbed his chin as he thought. "So, any questions about shooting in general? It might be life and death considering what we are dealing with.

Turning the gun in her hand, Harriet studied it. Aesthetically, she really liked guns. The look and feel of one in her hand gave her a thrill. For practical purposes, she was not a fan. She found them cumbersome and noisy. Her choice of weapons, the throwing stars and knives, were elegant and all but silent. Of course, they were impractical in many situations. "Thank you. I will take good care of it until I can purchase my own at the gun shop in town or order one." Quickly, she made certain the cylinder was empty and tucked the pistol under her arm. Reaching inside her jacket, she slid out one of the steel kill-stars she carried and handed it to Quentin. "No questions just now, Quentin. Those will come as I familiarize myself with shooting."

Quentin took the star carefully. "I'll probably end up cutting my own throat with this before I damage anyone with it." He carefully slid it into a shirt pocket. "Anytime you have a question about shooting, just ask me...I am happy to help you..." He then grinned. "...And just so you know...I happen to have picked up a basket of fried chicken with some water, sarsaparilla, and root beer in the back of the buggy...care to have some lunch?"

Surprisingly, considering the fact that she had a light lunch right after the hearing, Harriet's stomach rumbled quietly at the mention of food. "That sounds wonderful, Quentin! If you will get the food, I will make sure the mare can graze," she told him and started toward the buggy.