Devil Rising: The Heart of a Gunman. R. B. Conroy

The young fella spoke confidently as he approached Jon. “Could that be you?”

      “Now hold on there friend. I wasn’t really lookin’ for a partner,” a surprised Jon replied with a nervous chuckle. “I was trying to get my own outfit.”

      “Well, I understand Mr…?”

      “Stoudenmire, Jon Stoudenmire,” Jon responded quickly, a little taken back by the aggressiveness of this young hunter.

      “You see Jon, you got a big problem. I been checking around for quite awhile and as far as I can tell, there’s only one outfit for sale in this camp and it’s been promised to me. But I only have half the money it’s going to take to buy it, so I need a partner to cover the other half. You look honest enough to me, so are you in or out?” the young runner pushed on, barely giving Jon a chance to think.

      Never one to make rash decisions, Jon was really being pushed by this young Missourian. He wanted more time, but he also wanted to get his own outfit real bad. He liked this brash young tenderfoot and decided to trust his instincts and give it a shot, but not before a little more friendly bantering. Years later, Ed would confess that even he was surprised by how forward he was that first day.

      “Now just hold on there fella, I don’t even know if you can shoot straight or not. I might be tying into somebody that couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn from fifty feet. I might end up shooting all the buffs and then you’ll want to split the profits.” Jon’s eyes narrowed as he looked over at the young runner.

      Without saying a word, Ed carefully lifted his .50-90 Sharp Carbine up out of its saddle holster and raised it carefully to his left forearm. Jon wondered what the heck he was doing, as he leveled the large rifle for a possible shot. Ed then took direct aim at a big sign hanging some hundred yards away, next to the Wells Fargo Tent. It seemed like an eternity before Ed gently squeezed the trigger on the beautiful rifle.

      Boom! came the blast from Ed’s .50-90. All eyes turned to look at the distant sign. Splinters flew as the bullet hit the soft pine edifice. It was a long way off, but it appeared to Jon that the “e” in the Wells Fargo sign was pretty much gone.

      “You still think I can’t hold up my end?” Ed said confidently, the smoke still spewing from his Sharp’s barrel.

      Jon couldn’t believe his eyes. This kid can really shoot, he thought. I’d better just knock him down a notch or two. Jon, without saying a word, slid his .50-70 Carbine out of its saddle holster; lifted it up to shooting position and took careful aim at the same distant sign. A crowd had started to gather after Ed’s shot; some of the men in the camp had picked up on what was going on. They had quit doing whatever they were doing and started moving closer to where the two young men were squaring off.

      Suddenly there were two loud blasts from Jon’s Carbine. Hs head jerked back, his horse reared up as the percussion from the shots reverberated throughout the camp.

      The growing audience hastily turned to look at the distant sign to see how the youngster had done. No splinters flew this time; it appeared as though Jon had missed the sign completely.

      “Looks like you were off a little my friend!” Ed shouted. “Let’s go check it out!”

      Ed leaped abroad his mount as he and Jon raced toward the sign. Their horses jumped to a stop right in front of the sign. Both men craned their necks to try and see the result of their handy work. Sure enough, the “e” had a great big hole in it. Just as Jon had thought, Ed had made a perfect shot. The pressure was on Jon now as the two young men scanned the rest of the sign. There were oohs and ahs from the arriving crowd as they began to see the results of Jon’s marksmanship. Upon closer examination, two precision like holes could be found in the middle of the “a” and the “o” of Wells Fargo.

      “Lordy be, did you see that?” one of the old runners exclaimed loudly. “Them young fellers sure can shoot!”

      Both men began laughing hysterically as they reached out to shake hands and cement their new partnership. The crowd that had gathered began to applaud the young sharpshooters as they dismounted and went inside the tent to pay the frightened owner for the damage to his sign. Soon the two young men emerged from the tent, smiling from ear to ear.

      “What you say we get that outfit we were talking about a few minutes ago?” Jon said with a smile.

      “Sure ’nuff, Partner. Sounds like a great idea! I’ll meet ya here in the morning.”

      Jon nodded and headed for the mess tent.

      The next day the two young men met and purchased their new outfit. After a few small repairs to a back wheel on the large wagon, they were ready to start shooting some buffs and making some money. But as Jon thought back, he remembered that it wasn’t quite as easy as they reckoned it would be. These cocky young hunters had a few lessons to learn along the way.

      He remembered the first day of the hunt. He and Ed had located a herd of buffalo only a few hours from the camp, just up from the Red River northeast of camp about five miles.

      “Hold on there, Jon,” Ed ordered as they approached the buffs.

      Both of the young runners reined their horses to a stop. Jon looked puzzled as he glanced over at Ed.

      “What’s the matter; did you wet yourself or something?” Jon kidded his new partner.

      “No, smart aleck! I just want to know how we’re going to shoot these buffs?

      “With our guns,” Jon laughed. “How else?”

      “You really are a green horn,” Ed replied. “I sure hope nobody heard you say that or they’ll never call us runners again, even if we are crack shots.”

      “Okay, okay. Go ahead!”

      “There’s two ways of shooting, Jon. The stationery method, where we lay down behind our horses and shoot the buff as the run by; or there’s the running method where we ride into the herd on horseback and shoot them that way. I could do it either way, what do you think partner? “

      “Oh, the running method for sure,” Jon replied, cheeks still a little pink with embarrassment.

      “Okay big Jon, running it is. Let’s get at it. We’re not doing any good standing around talking about it.”

      As they approached the herd of about three hundred buffalo, the huge animals became nervous and began to move away from the two youngsters. Jon signaled to Ed that he would ride in first. By now the frightened buff were almost at full gallop. Jon was more scared than the buffalo as he rode into the middle of the herd - a little too far in, he would think later. There were buffalo all around him and they kept bumping into his horse and knocking him sideways, all the while they were picking up speed. Jon had basically seen only pictures of buffalo and was amazed at how big they were as he raced among the giant behemoths. He was holding on for dear life and trying to get his rifle out.

      It was at this point that Jon learned the first important lesson about buffalo hunting - beware of prairie dog holes! Now just a few hundred yards into the hunt, Jon was being knocked silly in the middle of the rampaging herd. Suddenly, he felt his horse go out from under him.

      “Oh my God, oh my God!” Jon screamed as his poor horse stepped into a prairie dog hole at full gallop. The horse went down and Jon went soaring through the air, right into the middle of a bunch of stampeding buffalos. It was at this point that Jon’s instinct to survive, that would serve him so well throughout his life, kicked in. The chances of making it out of a fall like this alive were slim to none, especially for a beginner. But somehow Jon was able to grab hold of the mane of a large bull buff as he flew over the frightened animal. With a mighty effort, he yanked himself down on top of the two thousand pound beast. With Jon holding on for dear life, the frightened buffalo went kicking and snorting down the trail. After several minutes, the huge animal grew tired and ran off to the side of the pack. This momentary detour allowed Jon time to jump to the ground, safely out of the way of the other rampaging buffalo.

      Ed arrived on the scene shortly