“Didn’t seem to do much damage, that must be heavy steel,” I said.
Without saying a word, E. C. led me back until we were about thirty feet from the sign.
“Ok, now take this 1903 thirty-eight Colt Pocket like Deck Goad was using. Fire a shot at the same ‘C‘,” he said as he walked about ten feet away from me. But before you fire, I want you to run over to me, looking at the sign, then aim and fire as soon as you get to me.”
I smiled as I realized what he was asking me to do. I would be re-enacting what it was like to have been at the courthouse. I trotted toward him, never taking my eye off the sign. I slightly tripped over an exposed root, regained my balance, and continued until I was near him. I raised the gun. For some reason, my hand was shaking so badly I wondered if I could
