Sister Sharpshooter
The Kate Chronicles
by
ShiningStar
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program
"Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures and
have been used without permission. No
copyright infringement is intended by the author. The ideas expressed in this story are copyrighted to the author.
Part 1
“Get away from that guncase!” Nick growled as he strode
through the library door.
Ten-year-old Kate startled at her brother’s booming voice
but didn’t move.
“Nick, when are you going to teach me to shoot?”
“When pigs fly!” He stomped to the desk and began to
rummage in a drawer.
Kate giggled. “You taught me to ride.”
“That was different!”
“How?”
“It just was, that’s all!”
Kate edged closer to her brother. For all his loud bluff
and bluster, she adored him and found him to be the most pliable of all her
brothers in her dainty fingers.
“Papa says I’m a very fine horsewoman. Whenever we go
riding, he always tells everyone that my brother Nick taught me everything I
know about horses!”
“He does, huh?”
Kate didn’t miss the pleased expression that spread over
his craggy face.
“Your father’s no slouch on horseback. He was in the
cavalry, you know.”
“Yes, I know. He fought the Indians before he went to be
with General Lee.”
Nick grunted and pulled a paper from the drawer and tossed
it on the desk.
“So when will you teach me, Nick?”
“I told you. . .”
“Mother can shoot.”
“So?”
“And you let Mark go out with you and shoot at rabbits—and
he’s only seven.”
“He’s a boy.”
“Mother shoots,” she repeated patiently.
“Well, she needed to know how when she came out here years
ago.”
“I might need to know someday.”
“What’re you gonna shoot at in Nashville? The ladies’ fine
hats?” He chuckled at his own bad joke.
Kate rolled her eyes. “That’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair!”
“I want to learn, Nick,” she said stubbornly.
“No! And that’s the end of it! In the first place, Royce
would take me out and shoot me if he knew I was letting you handle a
gun, and. . .”
“If Papa says it’s all right, will you teach me?”
“Sure, sure!” Nick said impatiently. “But I know what he’s
gonna say! Now get on out of here, KatieBee! I’m busy!”
Smiling complacently, Kate obeyed. She’d known she would
get her way. It was all a matter of how one talked to Nick. He usually said no
to almost anything at first, but he always came around.
She sat down on the bottom stair to contemplate her next
move. Should she ask her mother to
intervene with her father—or should she go directly to Papa?
When you have something to say, Kate precious,, always say
it to the person it’s intended for—not to someone else.
Just then Silas shuffled in from the kitchen, immaculate
as always in his starched white jacket and polished black shoes that reflected
his steps like a mirror, but his gait clearly showed the debilitating effects
of his recent illness.
Kate jumped up.
“Let me carry the tray, Mr. Silas!” she exclaimed, reaching for the
silver piece.
“No, Missy, I got it just fine.” As he started toward the
library, she sprinted ahead of him to open the door.
“Thank you, Missy.”
Kate frowned. She loved Silas—he was like the grandfathers
she’d heard her friends talk about—always ready with a story or a helping hand.
He’d been so sick in the winter—she’d heard Mother and Papa talk about how he
might not see another Christmas. He couldn’t even get out of bed this past
December, and she’d spent a lot of time reading aloud to him.
Jarrod told Nick that Silas should retire. “We’ll build
him his own house—close to this one so someone’s always available to help.”
“It’d break his heart to be put out to pasture like an old
horse!” Nick protested. “I can’t do it!”
Even Mother seemed to agree with Nick, and so Silas went
back to work before he was able but when he insisted. Of course, Nick’s wife
and Heath’s wife helped, and her cousins, Mark, Deborah, Leah, and Tom, were
expected to pick up after themselves downstairs.
She waited until he’d poured Nick a cup of coffee and then
walked with him back to the kitchen. “Would you like me to help you with
anything, Mr. Silas?”
“No, Missy, ain’t nuthin’ needs doin’ right now.”
Dismissed—for the kitchen was still his private
kingdom—she went in search of her father and found him reading the newspaper on
the porch.
“Are you very busy, Papa?” she asked politely.
Royce put down his paper immediately. “Never too busy for
my princess!” He held out his arms, and she snuggled into them.
“Papa, will you teach me to shoot a gun?”
“Guns aren’t toys for little girls to play with.”
“I don’t want to play with it, Papa. I want to learn to
use it.”
“Well, I don’t think. . .”
“Mother knows how.”
“Well, but your Mother’s a westerner. Everyone who came
west in the early days needed to be able to use a gun—and do a lot of other
things, too.”
“I might need to know someday.”
“I hardly think so, Kate precious. Not in Nashville. You
know I don’t even keep a gun in our home.”
“We don’t keep a horse either, but we go riding. Will you teach me?”
“You can’t make me believe that you want to shoot a birds
and rabbits—or anything alive for that matter.”
“No, Papa, I want to shoot at targets. Will you teach me?”
“Kate, I haven’t handled a gun in twenty-five years. I
wouldn’t be the one to teach you.
Nick’s probably the best, but. . .”
“He said he’d teach me if you said it was all right!” As
soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized she’d said too much.
“Oh, so you’ve already discussed it with him, have you?”
She nodded—and didn’t look at him.
“So why did you ask me to teach you?”
“Because she’s artful.” Victoria stood in the open door,
having overheard almost all of the conversation. “Aren’t you, Kate?”
“I’m—I’m. . .”
“Do you know what artful means, Kate precious?”
“Trevor says it means I’m a sneak, but. . .”
Victoria stepped outside and took the chair opposite her
husband and daughter. “Nothing so harsh as that, I think.” It amused her how the child was able to get
around her father and every other male member of the family as well. If it had
been for selfish gain, she would have stepped in, but it was always for
something useful—and often for someone other than herself. “Why do you want to
learn to use a gun, Kate?”
“Papa’s a horseman, and you’re—Heath said you could take
the whiskers off a hare at twenty yards!”
Victoria threw back her head and laughed. “Not quite,
though I was very good once.”
“I thought that if I rode like Papa, I should shoot like
you.”
“I also do very nice needlework, but you haven’t expressed
any interest in the business end of an embroidery needle.” Victoria looked at
Kate with amusement.
“I—I don’t like sewing, Mother.”
“You don’t like sitting still unless you have your nose in
a book,” her mother returned.
Kate sighed. Papa wasn’t difficult to convince, but
Mother—oh, dear, why did Mother have to appear at this particular moment?
“What do you think, love?” Royce asked his wife.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t like guns—you know that.”
“Like anything, they can be both good and bad.”
“I suppose Nick might teach her the rudiments of
gun-handling—safety and all that.”
“It couldn’t hurt,” Victoria said.
Kate threw her arms around her father’s neck. “Oh, thank
you, Papa!” Then she slid off his lap and embraced her mother. “Thank you,
Mother!”
“I’m not quite sure how she managed that,” she heard her
father say as she ran off to find Nick.
“I am,” her mother replied.
* * * * * * * *
“Nick! Nick!” She almost slid across the polished floor of
the entry hall.
He looked up from the papers he was reading at the desk.
“What is it now?”
She perched on the corner of the desk. “Papa said you
could teach me to shoot!”
“Well, now, I just may have to ask him about that!”
“He did, Nick! Honestly, he did! Mother said so, too!”
“Mother?”
Kate nodded solemnly. “Cross my heart, Nick!”
He narrowed his eyes. “You are the most. . .”
“Mother says I’m artful.”
“Sneaky is more like it! Just how did you ambush
Royce this time?”
“I didn’t ambush him, Nick. I just asked him.”
“And batted those green eyes at him, I’ll bet! I’ve never
known you not to get what you want—but I thought this time might be different.”
“It’s not like I want things that cost money, Nick,” she
defended herself, not feeling quite as pleased at her victory as she had
earlier.
“What do you think guns cost? And ammunition for them?”
“I—I’ll pay for the bullets out of my pocket money, Nick.”
“Nah, you don’t have to do that, but—“
“When will you teach me, Nick? This afternoon?”
“Maybe tomorrow.”
“Really tomorrow?”
“I guess, but—I’m going to talk to your father first, and
then you and I are going to have a long talk and—we’re gonna have a clear
understanding about some things, Miss KatieBee! You mark my words!”
She smiled showing the deep dimple in each smooth cheek.
“Thank you, Nick.”
“Get outta here now! Didn’t I tell you that before?”
She hopped down from the desk and kissed his cheek. “I
love you, Nick.”
When she’d gone, Nick Barkley sat at the desk without
seeing the papers in front of him. She was a piece of work, that KatieBee!
Royce wouldn’t deny her anything. If it wasn’t for Mother—but then, she’d
gotten around Mother, too! How had she done it? How had she gotten around him?
He shook his head. One thing for sure—life hadn’t been dull since KatieBee came
into the family! Nope—hadn’t been dull at all!
* * * * * * * *
The next morning after breakfast, dressed in a split
riding skirt like the ones her mother wore and a long-sleeved blue shirt, Kate
followed Nick outside to the barn. “I’m ready, Nick.”
He turned to look at her. “Ready for what?”
“Ready for you to teach me how to shoot.”
“Now, KatieBee, I can’t. . .”
“You promised.”
He raised his eyes heavenward as if invoking some divine
power to deliver him from this dainty tyrant who dogged his footsteps. “All
right—just a short lesson. We’ll go down by the creek. Go saddle up.”
“By myself?” She
was quite capable of saddling the small mare that she always rode, but she was
also used to Nick or Heath doing it for her most of the time.
“If you can’t handle a saddle, you can’t handle a gun,”
Nick insisted.
She sighed and went into the barn where she found Heath.
“Mornin’, KatieBee,” he said, stooping to kiss her.
“Good morning, Heath.”
“What are you doing out so early this morning?”
“Nick’s going to teach me to shoot, but he said I had to
come in here and saddle Daisy first.”
“I’ll do it.”
Kate shook her head, and reached for the blanket on the
edge of Daisy’s stall. “I guess I’d better do it myself, Heath.”
Heath leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest, and
watched his little sister sling blanket and saddle across Daisy and fasten the
cinches with skill and speed. She was amazing, this little girl who had entered
their lives so unexpectedly. Though Heath had daughters of his own, KatieBee
still occupied a big space in his heart.
With Heath following, Kate led Daisy outside. “I’m ready,
Nick.”
“So you’re gonna turn our little sister into a
sharpshooter, are you?” Heath asked. “Aren’t you afraid she’ll run off and join
a wild west show—ridin’, ropin’, and shootin’ the way she does?”
Nick scowled. “No, I ain’t afraid. . .don’t you have work
to do?”
Heath grinned. “Sure do, but I guess you don’t.”
“I’ll be back in an hour!” Nick swung himself into the
saddle. “Well, come on, KatieBee—what’re you waitin’ for?”
Nick drove her mercilessly. Every morning, as soon as
breakfast was over, he sent her to the barn to saddle Daisy. Then they rode to
the river where, for an hour, she aimed and fired almost nonstop at cans,
bottles, and paper targets. At night, after dinner, she disassembled, cleaned,
oiled, and reassembled all the guns she’d practiced with.
At the end of the
second week, Gene came to dinner and stayed to witness the evening’s
entertainment as Jarrod had referred to KatieBee’s labors. He watched his
younger sister with obvious amusement.
“So, are you aspiring to be the next Belle Starr?”
She glanced up, pushing back a stand of hair—damp with
perspiration—that had come lose from the long braid that hung down her back.
“No—I’m going to be a doctor.”
“A doctor! I see—you’ll go out and shoot people and then
patch them up!”
Kate’s face flushed, but she didn’t reply.
“Don’t tease her, Gene!” Victoria said sharply.
Gene’s eyes widened. “It was all in fun, Mother. She knows
that—don’t you, KatieBee honey?”
She nodded absently, concentrating instead on her task.
In the somewhat uncomfortable silence that followed, Gene
asked, “What prompted the shooting lessons?”
“I wanted to learn, so I asked Nick to teach me.”
“She ambushed me!” Nick growled.
“You, Nick?” Jarrod stirred in his chair.
“Yeah, me!”
Jarrod chuckled. “Well, she hasn’t shot you yet anyway. I
might have been tempted myself. You’re working her too hard!”
“She’s gonna learn right or not at all!” Nick returned.
Kate finished the last gun and took it to her brother.
“Here, Nick. Is it all right?”
He took a long time inspecting it. “Yeah, you did good,
honey.” He reached to hug her, and Victoria didn’t miss the fact that she
winced in pain.
“It’s time for bed, Kate,” she said to her daughter.
“We’ll be up to say goodnight after awhile.” When Kate was gone, she continued,
“Nick, was she firing your hunting rifle again today?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Because it kicks and bruises her shoulder. I have to rub
her with liniment almost every night.”
“She didn’t say anything to me about it!” Nick defended
himself guiltily.
“Well, now, she wouldn’t, would she?” Jarrod asked.
“She could. . .” Nick stopped and glanced at Royce. “We
won’t take it out tomorrow.”
* * * * * * * *
It was at the beginning of the third week that Nick
admitted to himself—and told his little sister—that she was better than a lot
of grown men. “You got good hands, honey—but if you’re gonna be a doctor, maybe
you better save those fingers.”
“I’m all right, Nick.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, but I think we’re gonna knock off
awhile just the same. Audra’s coming this weekend. You’ll want to spend some
time with her.”
“But you’ll let me shoot again, won’t you—after Audra
leaves?”
“Sure, I will.”
* * * * * * * *
Audra was expecting again, and Kate loved snuggling on the
settee with her after dinner, her small hand resting on her sister’s belly,
waiting for the baby to move. When it did, her face would light up with
excitement. “I’m going to bring babies when I’m a doctor,” she announced one
evening. “I love babies.”
“Then you must have a family of your own, darling,” Audra
said, cuddling her.
“Can I do both? Be a doctor and have a family, too?”
“Of course, you can! You can be anything you want to, Kate
precious!” Royce spoke up.
Kate beamed. “Then I will.” She patted the bulge beneath
Audra’s dress. “Wake up, baby, and kick again.”
* * * * * * * *
Nick took his sister out for the last time two days before
she was to return to Nashville. Victoria was packing, and Royce had gone into
town to talk over some business with Jarrod. Kate rode out of the yard on Daisy
with the rifle carefully tucked into its sling on the saddle.
They’d been shooting for half an hour when it happened.
Nick had gone to get some water from his canteen, reminding Kate to put down
the gun until he was beside her again. He’d left the horses untethered so that
they could crop at the grass and drink from the river, but his stallion had
wandered off a few yards into some tall weeds, and as Nick plunged in after
him, he heard a sound that turned his blood to ice.
Heath had brought the news from town just the week before
that rabies was once again scourging the area. “Jed Benson killed a skunk last
week, and he said he saw a wolf in his south pasture. Musta been rabid—wouldn’t
come down like that in broad daylight if it wasn’t.” He’d told KatieBee that
she couldn’t ride alone anymore.
Nick knew the sound—he’d heard it before—but he couldn’t
place exactly where it was coming from. Instinctively, he reached for his
gun—and then realized he’d taken it off and hung the holster on the branch of a
tree when he was setting up targets for KatieBee.
His heart pounded. KatieBee! He couldn’t call out to
her—and even if he could, she couldn’t outrun the animal. There was no place to go anyway.
The growl—more of a keening wail—came closer. He strained
his eyes to see some sign of the animal, but the weeds obscured his vision. The
horse, sensing danger, whinnied nervously, then shied suddenly as matted fur
and dripping fangs sprang from hiding. For a moment, Nick hoped that the wolf
would chase the horse, giving him time to get back to his sister, but it didn’t
happen. Instead, the animal, its yellow eyes rolling crazily, caught his scent
and turned in his direction.
He froze. KatieBee would hear the commotion if the wolf
attacked him and come running to see—and then it would go for her, too. Nick
had felt fear before—but this time he felt terror as he pictured his small
sister at the mercy of the crazed animal.
Behind him, the weeds rustled, and for an instant, the
wolf seemed distracted. It stood swaying from side to side, it’s mouth dripping
saliva. Suddenly there was a sharp cracking sound and the feel of something
rushing past him. The wolf yelped, leaped—and fell dead.
He whirled. KatieBee stood with the rifle still aimed.
Then, slowly, before he could react, she lowered it slowly.
“You killed it,” he whispered in disbelief. “You—“ She was
in his arms before he could finish.
“Oh, honey, you killed that wolf!”
“It was sick, wasn’t it?” Her voice sounded far away although
her face was pressed against his.
“Yeah—yeah, it was sick, honey.”
“It was going after you—you’d have gotten the sickness,
too.”
Nick’s memories of another encounter with a wolf rushed
back. “Yeah, I’d have gotten it, too.”
He felt her trembling. “Come on, honey, we’re goin’ home
now.”
“Don’t tell Papa.”
“Why not?”
“He’d be worried, Nick. I don’t want him to be worried.”
“He’ll be proud, honey—real proud. Mother, too.”
He picked her up and whistled for the horses. They came—as
if they sensed the danger was past—and he put her on Daisy. “Can you ride—or
you wanta ride with me?”
“I can ride, Nick. I was just a little scared.”
“I was a lot scared!” he said, and she smiled shakily.
“You’re not scared of anything, Nick.”
“Sure I am—anybody with a lick of sense gets scared—or
gets dead.”
She shivered. “I think I want to go home, Nick.”
He mounted his horse. “Yeah—so do I.”
* * * * * * * *
Royce rocked her while Nick told them what had happened.
“Please don’t be worried, Papa,” Kate whispered. “Please.”
Royce looked over her head at Victoria. “We’re very proud
of you, Kate precious.” Victoria
recognized the delayed fear in his eyes and reached to touch his arm.
“Of course, we are, Kate,” she said. “You saved your
brother’s life.”
Kate relaxed a little. “I was scared, Papa.”
“Papa’s princess was a brave girl.” He put his lips
against her hair. “A very brave girl.”
“Papa, I’m glad I learned to shoot, but I don’t think I
want to anymore—not right away.”
“Well, we’re going home soon anyway, precious.”
Her small body went suddenly limp with the emotional
exhaustion. “I’m so tired, Papa.”
In a few moments she was asleep.
* * * * * * * *
In subsequent summer visits to
the ranch, Kate perfected her skills with many kinds of guns. Nick often
referred to her as Sister Sharpshooter, and she always smiled. And
though the memory of that hot summer day and the terrifying vision of the rabid
wolf never left her, Kate learned that fear was conquerable. She would need
that knowledge in years to come. She would need a cool head and a steady hand.
And she would always need her
brother Nick.
THE END