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 give me some chuck roasts. Cut it so it will fit in these coolers.”
“Gonna have a barbecue?”
“More like a roast.”
Tiny took the coolers to the back room. In a few minutes, he came back with the coolers filled with meat. He helped Mike carry them out to his truck. Mike went back inside and paid the bill.
“Thanks, Tiny. I’ll see ya later.”
“Thank you, hope that works out for ya.”
“I’m sure it will.”
*****
Widow Johnson and her kids were in the grocery store to pick up a few things.
The oldest boy asked his mother, “Is Cat ever gonna bring us anymore deer meat? I’m getting tired of cheap hotdogs.”
“I don’t know. She’s been pretty busy.”
The next aisle over, Officer Shot was listening. I knew it. I’ll get her before I leave town. He left the store and staked out Widow Johnson’s house.
*****
Cat was sitting on Mike’s porch with her backpack when Mike pulled up. He got out of his truck and carried the coolers into the house.
Cat followed him in. “What are we going to do?”
“The way I see it, Shot wants to throw you in jail. I say let him.”
“Say what?”
“Don’t worry. He will have to let you out.”
“I don’t know if I like this plan.”
“It’ll be great. Now cut up this meat and put it in your backpack like you do the venison.”
Cat was starting to get the idea. She cut it into pieces that would fit into the bags she brought then put in her backpack. “Now what?”
“Take it over to Widow Johnson’s, and see if Shot takes the bait.”
“This