Fritz picked up the Winchester, and walked out into the cool night air. It had droped a few degrees since he'd rode in. Buddy was waiting; it almost seemed as if he was smiling. "Damn...thinking like Scarlet now," Fritz thought. He hoped she was okay.
He was about to saddle up, but something was nagging at him. It took Fritz a moment to realize what it was. The big Colt was .45 caliber. The Navy was .38 caliber. And his prairie belt was loaded with .45-70 rounds. He cycled the action on the rifle. The chambered round spun briefly in the air. Fritz caught it, and rolled it in his hand.
"Damn....44-40."
Fritz knew he wouldn't last long in a firefight. Not unless he did something to even the odds.
Fritz led Buddy towards the Quartermaster's office. He knew Keith would be awake. He could smell the coffee.
"Figured you'd be back," Keith smiled. "Want some java?"
Fritz smiled. "Yep, but not the irish stuff. I've got some riding to do yet."
"You know where it is...help yourself."
While Fritz poured a steaming cup, Keith Gaines went to the armory. He came back carrying a familiar piece of hardware.
"You looking for this?" Keith asked, handing over the Trapdoor carbine.
"Somehow you seem to know exactly what I need, when I need it." Fritz opened the action, and sliiped a round into the chamber.
"You're not dressed right," Keith said. "Wait here."
The tin cup had cooled enough to sip from. Keith returned with an old greatcoat, and a carbine sling. "This one's too worn to be repaired. I was gonna give it to Rosie for patches, but it should keep you warm tonight."
"You're gonna have to find another charity once I retire. Thanks Keith." He buttoned the coat up and slipped the sling over his shoulder.
Keith looked outside. "I see you got a new mount."
"Nope," Fritz replied, a hint of sadness in his voice. "Just one I trained."
"YOU...TRAIN a HORSE?"
Fritz mounted up, and slid the barrel of the Trapdoor into the carbine socket.
"You'd be surprised what you can do, with the right motivation." Fritz shook his friend's hand. "Thanks pard."
As Fritz rode off, Keith yelled, "You still owe me for that Sharps you know!"