"Honey...where's my Colt?"
It was an old game, which Scarlet enjoyed. She wiped a breakfast dish and set it on the table.
"Where did you leave it?" She tried not to giggle.
"Under my pillow," Fritz replied. He was getting a little annoyed. He knew what was coming.
"Did you look there?" Scarlet said coyly.
"If it was there" he said, "would I have asked where it was?"
In truth, Scarlet knew exactly where the Colt was. The short-barrelled revolver had become his constant companion. It went everywhere with him. She'd managed to sneak it out one night, over to Bill's lab. He was "refining" it at Scarlet's request, for his birthday. But she couldn't tell him that.
She set the dishrag down, and walked to the master bedroom. Scarlet was treated to the view of Fritz' posterior hanging out from under the bed. He was wearing his union suit and wool socks. The flap gapped partway open. She slipped her hand inside, giving him a squeeze. Fritz reacted by slamming his head into the underside of the bedframe.
"Ouch!"
She couldn't resist now, and began laughing in earnest. Fritz slid out from under the bed, his chest covered with dust bunnies. Scarlet laughed harder.
"How can I possibly stay mad at you?" he asked. Fritz kissed her lips.
"So," he asked, "where's my Colt?"
"Well," she replied, "maybe one of the boys borrowed it."
He got up and got dressed. "I wish they'd ask me before taking it." He slid the converted Navy into the flap holster, leaving the other one empty. Fritz lifted the Berdan from the rack. Johnny had done a hell of a job. The wood glistened. The action had been engraved and gold-filled. The left side bore their initials in an oval. He smiled, sliding a cartridge into the breech.
"Where are you off to now, darlin?"
He smiled. "The range...where else?'