it over next time.”
“I’d sure like to know what’s on them. Equipment has improved since I was in the game.”
“You think I’ll ever be able to compete at places like Camp Perry?”
Mike picked up a magazine and handed it to Cat. “Take this home with you, and read about how to control your breathing. That is very important. Then you can learn how to slow your heart rate down.”
“I know about breathing, but heart rate…?”
“At a thousand yards, everything counts. You will need to be able to squeeze your shots off between heartbeats.”
“I guess I have a lot of learning to do.”
“Yes, you do. Take your practice rifle home and practice. I want you to be able to keep the dime still standing on the barrel after you squeeze the trigger.”
Cat picked up her stuff and walked toward the door. “I’ll see you later.”
“All right, remember practice, practice, practice.”
After Cat left, Mike poured himself a glass of lemonade and sat down at his kitchen table. It gave him a good feeling that he would be able to pass his knowledge down to the younger generation. Marksmanship demanded discipline from the shooter. This would help Cat with other challenges in life from schoolwork to life in general.
Mike picked up the phone and dialed Jim’s number. The phone started to ring. It was answered, “Hello.”
“Hello, Jim?”
“Yeah, this is Jim.”
“Hey, this is Mike. How’ve ya been?”
“Pretty good. Had a chance to look over the material I sent you?”
“Yeah, I have some of it in front of me now. Cat shot my .308 Winchester. She didn’t do too bad. I want to either build her a rifle or have one built. Wondering which caliber you recommend.”
“There are a lot of good ones out there. Thinking one thousand yards or better?”
“Yeah, that’s her goal, at least one thousand yards.”
“Some guys are using the .50 BMG. The .418 Rigby ain’t bad. Personally, I like the 6BR or the .338 Lapua.”
“I was thinking about the .338 Lapua. From what I have read it’s a good round.”
“I like it. If you are looking for a gunsmith to build a rifle, there’s a guy in North Manchester, Indiana, who builds rifles for competitions.”
“Does he build them for southpaws?”
“That I don’t know. I can send you his address and number. If not, Surgeon rifles build a hell of a rifle, might cost a little more for a left-handed action. Another thing you might be able to do is buy an action from Surgeon and have him build a rifle around it.”
“That’s an idea. I’ll write him a letter and ask him. I’m thinking about taking Cat to Camp Perry next summer.”
“That’d be great.”
“Yeah, thought we’d stay through the centerfire competition.”
“I can book you a room in the same hotel that I’ll be staying at. My daughter will be there, Cat can stay with her.”
“All right, I’ll talk to ya later.”
“Okay, bye.”
*****
Cat rode her bike over to Mike’s. Mike was sitting on his porch drinking a cup of coffee. As Cat walked up to the porch, Mike said, “A bit chilly for riding your, bike ain’t it?”
“Was gonna say the same thing about sitting on the porch.”
“Weatherman said it’s gonna warm up later this afternoon. Maybe we can go back and see if you can put anything in the X-ring.”
“That sounds good.”
“What’s the matter? You look like somebody shot your best coon dog.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“You’re not the easiest to read, but yes.”
“I was over to Widow Johnson’s yesterday. She is about out of meat. I’ve been teaching her oldest how to shoot, but I won’t be able to take him deer hunting till next season.”
“You’ve taking a liking to them, haven’t you?
“Yeah, her kids are great, and she is such a nice lady. I’d like to go out and get her a deer, but with Hot Shot still in town, I can’t take the chance. He is bound and determined to catch me at something. It was a lot simpler when he wasn’t here. Then I could just go to the meadow at night and get one.”
“I figured that’s how you were supplying Widow Johnson and a couple other families with venison.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was doing. I am sure you knew that. That’s how I happened to be there when Conrad ran into trouble.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“I guess I could give her some out of our freezer.”
“Hang on a minute, you still playing Cat and Warden?”
“Sure, anything to make him look stupid, not that he needs any help.”
Mike had an idea. He didn’t much care for Shot, especially with the way he was always after Cat.
“How do you usually take the venison to Widow Johnson?”
“I wrap it in old bedsheets that Mom has thrown out then put it in plastic bags. I put it in my backpack then take it to her house.”
“Okay, tell you what. You go home, get your backpack, sheets, and plastic bags. Be back here in a couple hours.”
“What you up to?”
“You’ll see. Now get going.”
“Okay, see ya in a couple hours.” Cat jumped on her bike and headed home.
Mike went into the house, grabbed a couple of coolers, and put them in the back of his pickup. He drove over to a butcher shop in the next town. He walked in. A big guy came up to the counter.
“Hey, Tiny, how’s it going?”
“Mike, is that you?” Tiny walked around the counter and shook Mike’s hand. “Haven’t seen you in a coon’s age, thought maybe the buzzards got ya. How ya been?”
“Nah, not yet. Hey, I need some chunks of beef.”
“What would you like? I’m just getting ready to cut up a front quarter.”
“Just
