Donald… ermm…Don.” A nice enough looking younger thirty-something with the soft drawl of a native Texan. He looked like an ex-collegiate athlet... – hell, all three did – I wasn’t surprised. It was the corporate culture of the athletic shoe and clothing company they all worked for. Don was a few inches over six feet and just a few pounds under two hundred with thinning light brown hair. The man to my left was grinning, sticking his large hand out towards me. “Phil,” he said, pumping. I also bought two converted spare cylinders for Fawn’s pistol so that she could reload without having to fool with that damned loading gate.I was amazed at how accurate Fawn became with the Colt Army revolver at up to 100 feet, so I had to admit that she had passed that requirement. While we were about it, I had her become familiar with shooting my Starr DA revolver.She also learned to use the Henry rifle and was adequate in accuracy up to 150 yards, which was the usual limit for most people. More

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