THE MAN WHO TRIED TO CROSS CALEB . . .
Through the smoke, as if in a dream, Caleb saw Cheatham feverishly cocking the heavy pistol again, gripping it by the barrel as he levered back the hammer.
With an effortless and fluid action that he had practiced a thousand times since obtaining the unusual pistol, Caleb-thumbed back the hammer of the Le Mat and fired.
Even the worst shot in the world could scarcely have missed at that range with that charge in the gun.
Large enough to stick a finger into, the sixty-three caliber barrel exploded, the buckshot starring outwards in a vicious pattern of death.
Caleb felt the familiar jerk at his wrist from the heavy recoil, and waved away the smoke to see what remained of Lieutenant Cheatham of the Army of the Confederate States of America in the act of toppling over the rail to plunge bloodily into the river twenty feet below . . .