Watching the last of the embers peek through the ash, Skeeter wiped his Ruger sixgun down with a piece of flannel shirt and a hint of light gun oil. After roaming in the high desert scrub brush all day, nothing beat a nice fire to warm up, sear a steak, sip some bourbon and wipe down a favored gun.
This particular gun was Skeeter’s favorite — a well-worn 7.5” old model flat top designed by his friend Bill Ruger. Chambered for the powerful .44 Magnum cartridge, it had just the right amount of power for punching through the rib cage of deer or elk with a cast Lyman 429421 slug of his own making, loaded over a heavy charge of 2400 powder. Wiping the gun’s deepest crevices of desert dust, Skeet chuckled thinking of all the naysayers when Bill Ruger brought out the Ruger Single Six .22 long rifle in 1953, followed quickly by the flat top Blackhawks.
Almost finished with the wipe down, Skeeter took another swig of Henry McKenna, followed by the last bite of beef steak he pilfered from the kitchen counter when heading out the door that morning. Sally put it out the night before to thaw for that night’s supper.
He knew he’d face Sally’s wrath when returning home but felt the strong need to get away to cogitate, relax and enjoy a good day looking for arrowheads, jumping jackrabbits, or long-range plinking. Sleeping under the stars after such a day, next to his truck, in his beloved desert always made him sleep the sleep of the dead.
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