My Twelve-Year-Old and Her Gun
The man started after me, but he stopped cold when he heard the shotgun blast. It was Sarah, my twelve-year-old daughter. She was on horseback, holding that Winchester like a natural.
Sarah moved closer. The taller man reached for his gun. She fired a shot into his torso and he fell backward. The other man tried to run. Danny grabbed him and placed the noose around his neck. He pulled a lever, the noose tightened, and he dropped to his death.
The crowd was frozen as Danny mounted Sarah’s horse. “Come on, Mama! Let’s go!”
“Give me the shotgun. The three of us wouldn’t stand a chance!”
Sarah tossed me the shotgun. I limped up the steps as Danny and Sarah made their way out of town. I pointed the barrel into the crowd. “I always taught my kids right from wrong,” I yelled. “But the world beat it out of them.”
The sheriff stepped forward, pointing his gun at my head. “Drop it! It’s over now, Belle!”
I handed him the gun and they hauled me to jail, sentencing me to be hanged two weeks later.