Bandolier Man reacted first, popping two wild shots as Millard ran. He landed hard in the soft sand, came up, and the Winchester rifle practically leaped into his hands. The rifle had been a gift from the governor of Texas, back when Millard, Jimmy, and Borden had been much younger, much wilder—before Millard had become a family man and turned to the railroad for a steady, less dangerous life. A third-model that fired .32-caliber Winchester Center Fire cartridges, it had been manufactured in 1883, sporting a twenty-four-and-one-quarter-inch octagonal, blued barrel, walnut stock with checkering, and a hard-rubber butt plate. His name was engraved on the frame below a Lone Star flag. Also richly engraved with One of One Thousand, it was worth better than one hundred dollars. The excellent weapon had come with a standard rear sight, the sporting style, but Millard had added one of Winchester’s midrange vernier tang sights behind the hammer. It weighed nine pounds. It held fourteen rounds.
