Suddenly a short man in a dark suit and light-colored hat with a dark hatband charged into the picture. The film footage being broadcast immediately went into frame-by-frame mode. The short man extended his right arm towards the prisoner. He was holding a revolver in his hand. In the next frame, he had fired the gun and the prisoner's mouth was open in a grimace of pain. By the next frame the young man had started to crumple to the floor. After he was on the ground, the film speed resumed to normal, and the family watched intently as the police wrestled the shooter to the floor and disarmed him. There was brief news commentary before the station cut to a commercial.

"That's the goddamnedest thing I've ever seen in my life," Max Collins said with wonder.

"According to what they've been saying on the news, he did it so that the family would be spared the ordeal of a trial." There was a hint of derision in Walter Bowman's words. Each of the adults in the group murmured comments about the killing they had just seen.

"What do you think, Henry?" Walter asked finally. His son's brows knitted. He was concentrating on forming his answer before he spoke.

"That revolver he shot him with. It looked like a Colt Detective Special with a hammer shroud. That's a pretty rare version. I've only seen pictures of them. Most of the hammer shroud guns you see are the Smith & Wesson Bodyguard."

"That's true," Max Collins offered. "The kid's exactly right. Installing a shroud on a Colt is no five-minute job. The factory sells you the shroud and two screws, with different thread sizes. You have to buy two drill bits and two taps to do it, and if you're not a gunsmith you'll ruin a good gun."

"What's the purpose of a hammer shroud?" Walter inquired. His son spoke up.

"It's so the gun doesn't tie up if you have to fire it when it's in your pocket. The reason some people go to the trouble of putting one on a Colt instead of a just buying a Smith with a factory-installed shroud is that the J-frame Smith only holds five rounds. The Colt carries six." Henry furrowed his brows.

"Something else I noticed, too. He was pulling the trigger with his middle finger, and laying his index finger alongside the gun. Some people use that technique when they point-shoot a revolver without using the sights." Henry shrugged. "I've tried it, and it doesn't help me any to shoot that way, but there are some people who swear by it."

"The kid's eyes are better than mine. I didn't notice that." Max Collins spoke with respect in his voice. "What he's saying is that this Ruby guy is a pro. And from the dead center shot he just made, that fits."

"Or Ruby happened to walk into a gun shop at the right time, just after the guy who had the Colt built got tired of it or needed money," Henry added quickly. "And maybe he's got a piece of wire in his index finger from some injury, like that mechanic at the gas station on Delmar, and that's why he was pulling the trigger with his middle finger." He shrugged. "After all, it doesn't take any special skills to hit someone in the chest from three feet away."

"It sure as hell looked like a pro hit to me," Max Collins said. "That 'saving the family' stuff is a bunch of crap." He changed the subject. "They still saying it was a Mauser that Oswald used to kill Kennedy? I heard that again on a news conference yesterday."

"But it was a Carcano they were holding up on television!" Henry exclaimed. "And the Carcano is a piece of junk."

"Dallas cops said they found a Mauser, then an hour later they hold up Dago iron that isn't even safe to fire."

"What do you mean?" Walter Bowman asked his brother-in-law.

"Shoot a Carcano enough to be able to hit something with it, and it's apt to blow the firing pin back in your eye. Henry'd wear one out in an hour, if it held together. Worst rifle of the war."

"Next thing they'll be telling us is that the gun that killed the President originally came from one of his father's companies."

"Why do you say that, Henry?" his mother Catherine broke in.

"The big surplus importers, like INTERARMCO and Service Armament, that I buy from? Joe Kennedy, the President's father, owns some of them. Not those two, but he owns all or part of a couple of the other surplus-gun importing companies." The group sat in silence at the boy's statement. It was something that none of them had known. Finally, Irwin Mann spoke.

"Henry, do you have...an opinion about the assassination?" Irwin Mann was staring intently at the sixthgrader. The boy was startled by the question, but it addressed an issue that Henry had been thinking about all day.

"The way the news says it happened seems crazy to me. Someone thinking about shooting the President wouldn't use one of the worst guns ever made, unless he had no idea about what he was doing. If he knew anything at all about rifles, he'd use a target rifle, or at least a good quality surplus gun, like an Enfield or a Mauser.

"Also, anyone who had ever shot a rifle in his life would know that if you have to shoot at a moving target, it's a lot easier if the target is coming right at you or going straight away. Especially if your rifle has a cheap scope on it, like Oswald's did, and you're going to fire more than one shot in a short time. You have a real small field of view with a scope, especially those skinny ones with little lenses, and it's really hard to pick up a moving target with one in a hurry." The boy looked at his uncle for confirmation.

"The kid's right," Max Collins agreed. "According to all the pictures and drawings they've been showing about the assassination, Oswald had all the time in the world to shoot the President in the chest as the car was coming directly towards him. Kennedy was standing up and not even the windshield was in the way.

"Instead, Oswald waited until the car turned the corner and was angling away from him. And after it turned, Oswald's view was partially blocked by some trees, it looked like. Then he decided to start firing at the President with his junky, scoped Carcano." Henry nodded as his uncle went on.

"So I guess it's pretty obvious that this Oswald guy was no shooter, and didn't know that the Carcano is an unsafe junker that's really slow to operate. And we can assume he didn't know that with a cheap scope, it's even harder to pick up a target moving on a sideways angle, particularly with part of your view blocked by trees. Hell, he didn't even have the sense to take a clear shot with his target coming straight at him.

"But when this guy who obviously doesn't know anything about shooting a rifle does start firing at the President, he suddenly turns into somebody that Winchester should have put on the exhibition circuit." Max held up his hand and started ticking off his points on his fingers.

"He manages to find his moving target, fire, pull the gun out of recoil, work the bolt, find his moving target in the scope again, and repeat the process for a whole magazine. He hits Kennedy twice, once in the back and once in the head, for Christ's sake!"

"And," Henry broke in "he puts another bullet into that other guy, uh..."

"Governor Connally," Mann prompted him, still hanging on every one of Henry and Max's words.

"Yeah, Connally," Henry agreed, getting more animated, "and he does all this superb shooting in-what? five seconds?" He shook his head. "If Ad Topperwein and Herb Parsons were still alive, I don't think either one of them could do that kind of shooting with a Carcano. I know I couldn't come close." 'This nut who knows nothing about shooting but decides to kill the president anyway using the worst possible equipment and taking the worst possible shot somehow manages to do it. Bullshit," Max Collins spat. "No such thing as that much luck. God himself couldn't pull that one off. There had to be other shooters." Irwin Mann said nothing but nodded, fascinated by the persuasive analysis. He looked at his brother-in-law, nodding his understanding. Max added another comment.

"And now the man most likely to tell us who else was involved has conveniently been killed. He's been killed by a strip-club owner with a pro's gun using a pro's technique, who did it, we are told, out of respect for the Kennedy family," Max snorted.

"And may I also point out that this strip-club owner happens to be Jewish, and the head of the family this Jewish strip-club owner professes to respect so much is old Joe Kennedy, who never made any secret of his admiration for the Nazi regime." Max Collins laughed without humor. "Don't expect this deal to make sense any time soon."

"Curiouser and curiouser," Walter Bowman murmured. He was arguably the most literate person in the room.

January 10, 1964 "God damn it!" Harold Gaines roared at his son. "Why the hell did you have to ge- have to go cheat on a test, for Christ's sake?" the elder Gaines demanded. He had revised his question at the last moment. 'Have to get caught cheating on a test' was what he had been on the verge of asking.

"No one knew there would be a quiz the first week back from school," Richard blubbered. "It wasn't a real test or anything," he added defensively.

"All the more reason not to risk getting flunked out!" Harold replied. Richard thought it best to avoid pointing out that he was already failing the math course. "Now I'll have to go make nice with the teacher again," Harold fumed. Dad will probably have to give him some money again because I'm so stupid Richard thought miserably.

"Maybe you can come up with a C-minus on your next 'quiz'," Harold said in a voice that dripped with sarcasm, then turned away from his son in dismissal.

Richard Gaines hung his head and left the room. / wish Dad would help me understand my math homework he thought bleakly.

It did not occur to Richard Gaines that his father's academic abilities were no greater than his own.

"Well, good evening, birthday boy." Henry Bowman rolled his eyes as he came in the kitchen after being dropped off from sledding with some of the other boys from school. His mother Catherine knew that the phrase mildly embarrassed her son, and she laughed at his reaction. "Come get some hot chocolate. Your Uncle Max is here, and Irwin Mann is with him. They're with your father in his study, waiting for you to get back. I think they have something to show you."

Henry shrugged out of his coat, pulled his galoshes off, and put them on the porch to dry. He took the cup of cocoa from his mother and padded into his father's study in his socks. Max Collins was sipping a scotch and water, and Irwin Mann had a beer in his hand. Walter Bowman drank tea.

"Well, look who made it back! You didn't freeze your little dingus off, did you?" Max Collins was grinning his most engaging grin. Henry smiled and lowered his eyes. He knew his uncle didn't really expect an answer.

"Happy birthday, Henry," Irwin Mann said to the boy.

"Thank you." '

"Henry, your uncle and Mr. Mann have some presents for you, as do I. They all go together, so we thought we'd see that you caught us all at the same time."

Max Collins held out a box that was blue-grey, about three inches thick, and roughly the size of a legal pad. "This one goes first. Was going to buy it for myself, but decided you needed it more. Let me borrow it sometime and maybe I'll decide to get one, too." Henry took the box and his eyes got big as soon as he saw the S&W logo stamped into the lid. A Smith & Wesson presentation case. He had heard of them, but had never seen one. He knew of only one gun that the company shipped in a presentation case, and his hands felt awkward as he lifted the lid.

His information was correct. Inside was an N-frame .44 Magnum with a 5" barrel. This was unusual. The big Smith & Wesson was catalogued with 4", 6 1/2", and 8 3/8" barrels. The gun Henry was staring at had been one of a special run of 500 made for H.

H. Harris and Co. in 1958. The metal glowed with the milk-blue finish that was characteristic of all of Smith & Wesson's best guns made while Carl Hellstrom was still in charge of operations.

Henry lifted the revolver out of the satin lining, pressed the cylinder latch forward, and swung out the cylinder. Each of the six chambers was burnished with the factory's proprietary process that allowed fired cases to drop effortlessly out of the cylinder, even when maximum-pressure loads were used. Henry closed the cylinder, cocked the weapon, and tried the trigger pull. The trigger broke without a trace of creep at what Henry judged was no more than two pounds, with a release like breaking glass. The double-action pull was smooth and positive, and Henry immediately noticed that the trigger itself was not the standard wide, grooved, target version that was best suited for slow fire, but a smooth, polished one perfect for double-action shooting.

Max Collins saw his nephew examining the non-standard piece. "Fran Longtin, in the service department in Massachusetts, set you up with that trigger when I told him the way you were apt to use the gun. Says it's their Jordan Combat Trigger, made for Bill Jordan on the Border Patrol in Texas, and anyone else that's on the company's good side."

Henry had written to Fran Longtin when the trigger stud of his uncle's .357 had broken and he had sent it back to the factory for repair. Longtin had inquired as to how many rounds had been fired through the weapon, and Henry had replied that he had shot over 20,000 rounds through the gun in the year he had used it, but had no idea how many had gone before. The service manager had apologized for the premature failure, and sent Henry a thousand fired cases along with the repaired gun as a bonus.

"This is from your old Dad," Walter Bowman said, holding out a cardboard box. Henry laid down the revolver and took the package from his father. It was heavy, and when he opened it, he saw why: Inside were a pair of eight-cavity bullet molds with handles. He did not need to read the letters stamped on the mold blocks to know that they were made by Hensley & Gibbs in Oregon. Only H&G had the skill to properly make 8-cavity gang molds.

"I was going to get you just one mold," Walter explained. "Then I wrote the folks up there, and they told me to buy a pair, made at the same time with the cavities matched to a half-thousandth, so you can fill one and let it cool while you're filling the other one. Said with practice, you could cast over 1500 bullets an hour, so you won't have to spend so much time down in the foundry." Walter used the term his wife had jokingly invented to describe the corner of the basement Henry had set up to cast bullets. "They feel a little heavy, but I guess your wrists are up to it."

"Good exercise for a revolver shooter," Henry said immediately.

"Mr. Mann has something for you also," added Walter. Irwin Mann reached behind a leather armchair and retrieved a steel 5-gallon bucket with a wire loop carrying handle. It was obviously fairly heavy. He set it down in front of Henry, who lifted the lid. It was filled to the brim with empty brass .44 magnum cartridge cases.

"Should be four thousand there," Irwin said, speaking for the first time.

"And I've got the dies, 5000 primers, and four 4-pound cans of Hercules 2400 powder coming Monday or Tuesday," Max threw in. "You can start casting this weekend, and be shooting by next Saturday."

Henry did not know what to say. He feet were still cold from sledding, but he did not notice it. His hot chocolate was forgotten. He picked up the revolver again, then looked at his father. "Can I cast some after supper, Dad?"

"I don't see why not. It's Friday. How much lead have you got left?"

"I was almost out, but Mom took me by the Goodyear place on Monday for more wheelweights. I got them all melted down, fluxed, and cast into ingots this week. I have almost 200 pounds of alloy." He was rapidly calculating how many bullets that would make. Each .44 slug was 250 grains, and there were 7000 grains to the pound. A little less than forty pounds per thousand. "That's enough for about 5000 bullets."

Max Collins laughed. "If you didn't have to wait for the molds to warm up and the lead to melt, hell, kid, you could knock those out tonight," he joked.

As it turned out, Henry turned on his three lead furnaces and started preheating the molds on a hot plate before sitting down to dinner. He got to bed a little after midnight.

When he did, he was once again out of bullet alloy.

March 12,1964 The return address on the envelope made Henry Bowman grin. Kane's Custom Ammo it proclaimed. Henry had been very pleased with the first reply he had received from Allen Kane, but he had been afraid that he might not hear from the man again. In Henry's second letter he had confessed to the nationallyrecognized ammunition expert that he was only eleven years old.

The envelope he held in his hand was thick and Henry tore it open. To call Allen Kane's typing mediocre was to be charitable. Henry would not discover for two years that Kane's left hand was permanently damaged, the result of a farm accident when Kane was fifteen. Henry did not care at all that the letter was littered with typos. Though his spelling and grammar were impeccable, Henry's own handwriting was far from pretty. Kane didn't complain about the letter I sent Henry thought. He began to read the letter which had obviously been hammered out on an aging manual typewriter.

3 8 64 Hi Henry Eleven huh/? I got my frst 45 whn I wasd 7 but no 44mag until almost 14. you mention Ken Bella piece in 1959 dDigest . Jim harvey is dead killd himself but lakeville Arm s bullets still available and yes they are god good. ProtX bore w th zincv washer ok but the JUGULAR is th one to use for long range out of wheelgun. I was Jim' s Indiana distruibytor in 1957 and that was 8th grade HAH!

2400 is ok in 44 but 295HP is bett4er dont care what keith syas. Not in real cold wethr thoug h but any other time yes. Try 24 grains with H&G 503 not with jacketed they raise pressures and will wear out your barrel the way we shoot. Also your wallet. load 9.5 Unique and 250 keith. /Your girlfriend can shoot thiswhen you get old enough to have one.

Dont tell S&W but the N frames much strongr than they ever thought . I have one with 75000 rounds all at least 3 grns over listed max. Beroke trigger stud like you did but still shoots 6 inc h at 100 even thoug forcing cone is ou tto the edge. Franny Loongtine wanted to replace but I said not until the frame cracked.. Glad you got the 5" with Jordan trigger its the best for carry gun dont sellit. Get an 83/8 in for best longrange when you get older and stronger like maybe n ext week.

Many like the light bullets in 44 but they will wear out yr forcing cone if you shoot a lot and wont hit hard at longrange like the heavy ones. Most people think 300 plus yards w/a whelgun is a lie but glad to hear you knowit just takes some practice. Was at elmers last summer a guy called him a liar about long range work. Keith pullefd out $500 it looked like an d said take it count off 5oo big steps then turn around and stand still for 6 shots. If you can walk away its yours. Guy left in a hurry. Keith was mad I know he wouldhave don e it.

If you want to try 5 or 600 yds buy some 270 gra in jugulrs with jacket ^covering lead up to shoulder no le d touching bore, they are in the list, take off 20% all dealer prices, special discount for 5" 44 shooters who dont shave yet.. Use 22 295hp and mag primer and it should do real well if the weathers not too cold. makes a mess out of groundhogs too Y es i often shoot on paper at 200 yar ds. if the load is good and you are on sandbags then 8" with iron sightsis no big surprise, rest the frame on the bag not the barrel or they will string vertically . also use an old towel as blast from bbl-cyl gap will ruin your bags. You must have good crimp though or bullets will pull undr recoil and accuracy goes to hell even if the gun dosnt tie up. Crip in crimp groove notover front drive band like some idiots do.

Write Star they make the best cdies and get a 7/8 bushing for your press. Tell them you want th 2step .450"-.475" carbide sizer like mine don't let them talk you out of it like they always try to do. Ammo may look funny but will shoot great. Polish down your expander so it only bells the case mouth and get a starr roll crimp die too. then you will be all set.

Put a 5gal bucket of water by your casting setup dump the bullets out of the mold into it. They will be harder that way and won't lead your barrel as easily, also not so many dings or dents on bullets, dings don't matter for blasting ammo but customers complain so I shoot em myself. Beeswax Alox mix is best lube for full power loads to avoid leqding. For light loads anything will work ok but you dont shoot those either do you Rob a bank if you have to but get yourself a star loader. 5oo roumds an hour then you can spend more time shooting not loading. The wait on a .44 is over a year but wel worth it so get your dad an d uncle thinking about it now. I have used a single stage too and you need a starr. qwrite me before you buy one and I will tell you what to tell Mock you want when he builds it and what spare parts you will need. Also you need to get a star sizer luber it will do a lot better job than whatever you are using- now and 3 or 4times as fast too.

If you like big guns thenyou shpld have a Solthrun like the add inside. Shot one cople moths ag o and thyre beutigul and acurate too. Jus t an idea good shooting

Allen

Henry turned to the next page and saw that Allen had enclosed his entire price list with a note again reminding him to deduct 20% from the printed dealer prices.

Poring over the ad for the Solothurn kept Henry occupied until his mother called him for dinner. He knew he would probably never get one, but it was fun to dream.

The letter from Kane gave Henry something else, as well. Ever since he had walked into his first gun store with his Uncle Max and met Al Goodman, Henry had found that adults ignored his age and treated him as an equal when their interests involved shooting. Al, Doc Wiemann, Irwin Mann, and now Allen Kane had proved this to him. The boy was experiencing something that was true for all people in the gun culture regardless of age or native language. Henry's skills and passion would one day make him a welcome guest in the homes of people he had never met before.

In the years to come, Allen Kane would become one of his closest friends. It was a friendship that would shape the course of Henry Bowman's life.

Henry folded the letter and put it back in his pocket. People who take shooting skills seriously have a natural affinity for one another Henry thought It doesn't matter how old they are. Henry would observe this phenomenon over and over again in the coming years.

Unfortunately, the people who would become the gun culture's mortal enemies would also be well aware of this truth.

On most school mornings, Henry Bowman was a little drowsy when he left his room to go downstairs for breakfast, and even though it was Henry's birthday, this morning was no exception. He would have tripped over the packing crate if it hadn't been quite so large. It was lying in the upstairs hall just outside his bedroom door, and for a brief instant in the dim light he thought it was a grandfather clock that was lying on its side. Then he saw the rough texture of the crate and noticed the strange markings stenciled on the side of the dark wood.

Tankbuchse S18-1000 Kal. 20mm

Suddenly Henry realized what he was looking at.

"Dad! A Solothurn! You got me a Solothurn!" Henry yelled at the top of his lungs before realizing that his father probably did not need to be told this fact. His voice was considerably deeper now than it had been a few months ago, and the sound carried throughout the house.