The Shooter

A young traveler paused atop a ridge to rest and survey the way that lay before him. Road dust filled his trouser cuffs and caked the sweat stains on his shirt. He shook out a red bandanna and, removing his hat, wiped first his brow and then the sweatband in the hat. He waved the hat before his perspiring face, creating a hot breeze that gave neither pleasure nor relief as he squinted toward the horizon.

The landscape shimmered under the midday sun. Ridges rolled away before him like ocean swells, patterned by irregular blotches of wilted timber and parched pasture. A dust devil pirouetted listlessly along the crest of the next ridge. The road bisected the panorama in a more or less straight line to the horizon, mounting ridge after ridge in a succession of narrowing vertical dashes.

Redonning his hat, he prepared to resume his journey when something--a wink of bright color--caught his attention. It was too far away to identify; all he could see through the hot wavering air was a shape squatting beneath a large oak tree three ridges ahead. When he topped the next ridge, he saw that the object was a small building painted bright red, with yellow and blue designs on the side and front; gaily colored pennants and streamers stirred listlessly in a meager breeze. From atop the second ridge, he saw that the building was a roadside stand of some sort--probably fruits and vegetables, he thought--with a waist- high window across the front, and painted signs above and below the window. He thought he heard a calliope wheezing faintly across the hollow. As he trudged up the last ridge, he saw that it was indeed a business stand, but, contrary to his expectations, the sign across the top of the structure announced in bright yellow, foot-high letters that this was:

"ANNIE'S WORLD FAMOUS SHOOTING GALLERY!"

Other equally bright but smaller signs plastered the building, exhorting non-existent customers to take a chance:

EVERYBODY A WINNER! TEST YOUR SKILL! PRIZES GALORE! FUN FOR THE WHOLE FAMILY! TRY YOUR LUCK! PRIZES! PRIZES! PRIZES! MAKE YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE!

On the counter, a small sign read:

ONLY 10 CENTS A SHOT!!!

Next to the sign a rifle, anchored with a chain, lay pointing at targets in the far end of the building. Machinery whirred and clanked softly as it drove the targets--five rows of flat wooden ducks swimming in alternate opposite directions--through blue- painted plywood waves. At the top of the target pyramid, a golden star flashed briefly in a narrow window at random intervals. Carnival music issued from three loudspeakers mounted in a fan arrangement on top of the facade.

A young woman sat near one end of the counter, chewing gum energetically and manicuring her nails with a long file.

"Hello," the young man said.

"Hi." She barely glanced up from her work. She looked to be a Gypsy; a red scarf held lush black hair back from her face, and silver rings dangled from her earlobes. Long lashes veiled dark eyes as she continued gazing intently down at her hands.

"Uh....How's business?" the young man asked.

"Not bad."

The young man waited, but she did not elaborate. "This is an unlikely place for a shooting gallery," he observed.

"I suppose."

"Do you get many customers?"

"Not many."

"I'm not surprised. Surely you could do better in town."

"I suppose."

"Are you Annie?"

"No. I just work here."

"I see." The young man removed his hat. "How far is it to the next town?"

"Not far. You can be there in an hour."

The young man waved the hat in front of his face. "This shade feels good. Do you mind if I rest here a while before I go on?"

"Nope."

The traveler sat with his back against the oak tree and gazed out across the dusty country. He picked up fallen acorns and tossed them out into the sunbaked road. He shook the dust from his trouser cuffs. He glanced at the young woman several times, but she remained absorbed in her manicure. After a while, he approached the counter again. The young woman was applying a coat of crimson polish carefully to her left little fingernail.

"I hate to be a bother, but could I trouble you for a drink of water?" he asked.

The young woman extended her left hand, dropped her head first to one side and then the other, and inspected the scarlet nails critically. "You'll have to shoot for it," she said, making her gum pop.

"Pardon?"

"You'll have to shoot for it. The boss won't let me give away anything for free."

The young man was puzzled. "You mean...shoot...with the gun?" he asked.

"Yes. If you hit a duck, I can give you something to drink. It's the rules of the house." She blew gently on her nails and waggled her fingers. "It only costs a dime," she said, smiling at him for the first time.
The young man placed a dime on the counter, took up the rifle, sighted, and jerked the trigger. He wasn't sure where he had aimed, but a duck on the bottom row dropped from view. He turned smiling to the young woman, and was surprised to find a tall pitcher of water before him with ice tinkling against the sides.

"There you go," she said, sliding a crystal tumbler toward him.

"Where did that come from?" he asked.

"Isn't that what you wished for?"

"Well...yes." The young man poured and drank a tumbler full of water. It was cool and sweet on his tongue, and his thirst evaporated. He felt remarkably refreshed, as if he had awakened from a restful sleep. He smiled and thanked the young woman.

"How long have you been doing business here?" he asked.

"Not long."

"I notice that you don't seem to have any prizes displayed. Isn't it customary to offer kewpie dolls and teddy bears and such to attract customers?"

"This isn't that kind of shooting gallery."

"It isn't?"

"Nope."

"Well...what kind is it?"

"We grant wishes."

"Wishes?"

"Yes. If you hit a duck, we grant you a wish--for anything tangible. We don't deal in intangibles--except for the grand prize, that is. If you hit the gold star, we give you an intangible prize."

"And what is that?"

"Wisdom."

"I see." The young man laughed. "This is...ah...hard to believe."

"Try it again. You'll see. It only costs a dime."

The young man smiled skeptically, but he laid another coin on the counter.

"What can I wish for?" he asked.

"Anything you want."

"Anything?"

"As long as it's tangible."

"OK, I'm tired of walking. I would like to have a car. In fact, I would like to have a Cadillac." The young man watched to see what effect this would have on the Gypsy.

She began applying polish to her right thumbnail. "Fine," she said.

The young man shouldered the weapon, pulled the trigger, and was again surprised when a duck dropped from sight. He looked at the young woman, and then out at the road.

"Well?" he said, smiling. "Where's my car?"

The young woman grimaced and reached under the counter. She brought up a shiny metal token grasped gingerly between her freshly-painted thumb and forefinger. She slid it across to him.

"When you get to town, give this to the Cadillac dealer," she said. "He'll fix you up."

"Oh ho ho!" laughed the young man. "So that's the scam."

"Scam?"

"Yes. The scam. The flimflam. I'm not the bumpkin you take me for. I've been to the state fair a time or two, you know." The young man said this in a good-humored way. He looked about, smiling and bouncing on his toes, as if he were struggling to keep a belly laugh inside. He felt exceedingly well after the drink.

"Suit yourself," the young woman said as she leaned back over her nails. "Like I said, I only work here."

The young man frowned. He had not meant to offend her. "I will admit, however, that this seems fairly harmless," he said. "You can't fleece anyone very badly at a dime a shot." He waited, but she didn't speak or look up. "In fact, I'd like to shoot some more." He pulled a crumpled bill from his pocket and smoothed it on the counter before passing it across to her. "I'll take ten shots," he said.

She took the bill and said, "OK, name your first wish."

"I'd like to be rich," he laughed. He raised the weapon and fired. A duck fell in the third row.

"Here you go. Present this at the bank when you get to town." She pushed another token toward him. He chuckled and dropped it into his pocket without looking at it.

"Next, I'd like a new wardrobe."

Another shot, another duck fell. The young woman offered another token. "Take this to the men's store," she said.

The young man continued wishing and firing and pocketing the tokens the Gypsy gave him until he had used nine of the ten shots. By then, he had run short of ideas. He had tokens for a boat, an airplane, an estate, as well as some silly things that he named simply because it was all in fun and he didn't believe any of it, anyway. But he thought long and hard about the tenth wish. Finally, he smiled and said, "Love".

"Pardon me?" the young woman asked.

"I wish for love."

"That's intangible. We don't deal in intangibles. The best I can do is to get you the woman of your choice. Whether love happens will be up to the two of you."

"Fair enough."

The young man shot and dropped a duck.

"Give this to any woman that you want, and she's yours," the young woman said, sliding another token to him.

"Suppose I gave it to you," he said.

"It doesn't work for me. Employees and their families are not eligible."

The young man smiled and pocketed the token. He poured himself another tumbler full of the water and drank it.

"Well, I've enjoyed the game," he said, tipping his hat. "But the sun is sinking, and I have business in town. Thanks for the water." He stepped back into the road, and strode away.

Two hours later, the young man had completed his business in the town, and was walking about looking for a suitable hotel for the night, when he happened to pass the Cadillac dealership. The pocketful of tokens jingled as he walked, and he smiled as he thought of the young woman and the shooting gallery. On a whim, he turned into the showroom and walked about admiring the shiny automobiles. He was especially dazzled by a white convertible with red leather seats. A bored salesman who obviously considered the dusty young traveler a poor prospect, approached, took the toothpick from his mouth, and said, "Can I fix you up with that beauty?"

The young man blushed and laughed. "Not unless you'll sell it for this," he said, holding out a token.
The salesman's manner changed in an instant. He shepherded the young man into the sales manager's office, introduced him, and showed the token. To the young man's astonishment, within half an hour he left the dealership driving the white Cadillac. It happened quickly, and he felt sure he was merely dreaming.

"But I might as well enjoy the dream," he reasoned.

At the bank, he shyly pushed a token across the counter to a teller. She looked surprised, excused herself, and returned shortly with the bank president. He took the young man into his private office and personally showed the young man where to sign to open an account that, the banker assured him, already had one million dollars on deposit.

The young man stayed in the town, exchanging the tokens for the wished-for items, and, at the end of the second day, he had redeemed all but one--the love token.

The next day, he had business in the mayor's office. (He was already an important person in town.) During their conversation, the mayor's daughter came in to speak with her father. She was just home, having graduated from an exclusive eastern school the week before. She was a tall blond girl with a face and figure that drew an involuntary sigh from the young man. Her name was Dorothy, and she spoke in soft cultured accents--obviously a young woman of intelligence and breeding.

The young man loved her at once.

"Will you marry me?" he asked, handing her the last token.

"Of Course," she replied, her eyes shining with love and admiration.

The entire town stopped to celebrate their wedding the following week. After the ceremony the mayor made a speech on the courthouse steps and proclaimed that the day officially belonged to the happy couple. The young man said a few words of thanks for the honors and affection heaped upon him and his bride. The people cheered, for they liked the young man, and some even hinted that he was a foreign prince who had decided to settle among them. The couple waved to the crowd, got into the Cadillac, and set off on their honeymoon.

As it happened, they drove back over the same dusty road that the young man had traveled the week before; when he saw the shooting gallery still there beneath the oak tree, he stopped the car, and got out.

The young Gypsy woman still sat on the stool at the end of the counter, engrossed now in a paperback novel.

"Hi," the young man said. "Remember me?"

"Oh, sure," the young woman said. She put down the book and smiled at him, and at Dorothy sitting in the white Cadillac.

"Looks like things have gone your way."

"Yes. I had no idea things like this were possible. I just stopped to thank you, and to apologize for doubting you.

"No problem."

The young man noticed that all of the duck targets were still. The only target moving was the golden star at the top.

"Is something wrong with your machine?" he asked.

"No, the boss just decided to stop offering the tangible prizes. We only offer the one prize--wisdom--now. Care to try your luck?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I feel lucky." He laid a dime on the counter. The Gypsy smiled and pointed to the new sign that stood there. It read:

ONLY $10,000 PER SHOT!

The young man looked stunned. "Are you serious?" he asked.

"I'm afraid so. Wisdom is a very valuable commodity. Most people live their entire lives and never get a drop of it. Besides, what's ten thousand dollars compared to all that you have?"

The young man thought for a moment. Suddenly, wisdom seemed very desirable. What good are possessions if you are not wise, he thought.

"OK, I'll try it once," he said. He took out his checkbook, wrote a check, and passed it to the Gypsy. Taking up the rifle, he watched the golden star wink three times in the window while he sighted. The star appeared and disappeared so quickly and at such random intervals that it was impossible to anticipate when it would appear. The young man jerked the trigger when he saw it the fourth time, but the star was gone before the bullet arrived.

"Tough luck," said the young woman.

"Darling, what are you doing?" Dorothy called from the car.

"Be there in a second, dear," the young man said. He turned back to the Gypsy. "I'll take another shot," he said as he scribbled another check.

He timed the shot correctly this time, but his hands shook, and the projectile struck beside the window for another miss.

"Perhaps it would help if you braced against the counter," the Gypsy suggested.

"Yes, you're right." He wrote another check.

Dorothy got out of the car and approached just as he fired and missed again. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Don't worry, darling. This is just a little unfinished business that I need to take care of before we go." He said this while writing another check. Dorothy watched silently, but with an expression of growing concern, as he repeated the procedure twice more. When he began writing another check, she cried, "Stop!"

"Please wait in the car," said the young man. He was sweating now. Dorothy laid a hand on his arm, but he shrugged away from her. She stepped back a few paces and covered her mouth with a trembling hand. After the young man shot and missed five more times, she began to cry.

"You're wasting our entire fortune," she said. "Please stop."

The young man turned a baleful gaze upon her and she retreated another step. He shot and missed again.

"If you don't stop this minute, I'm going back home," she sobbed. But the young man had gone too far to stop. He wrote another check.

He continued to shoot and write checks for an hour, and it wasn't until he had written the check that cleaned out his bank account, that he noticed that Dorothy had taken the car and driven back to town.

"That's the last of my money," he said to the Gypsy.

"I'm sorry," she said.

The sun was high in the sky by this time, and the young man mopped his brow with a clean linen handkerchief.

"Look," he said. "I've got an airplane. A jet. Brand new. How many shots can I get for it?"

"One," the young woman said.

"But it's worth three million dollars!"

"Sorry. The boss is very strict about that. Only one shot each for tangible assets."

The young man rested his head in his hands for a moment, but in the end he agreed. He missed the shot badly. The same fate soon disposed of his yacht, his estate, and all the other possessions, both valuable and frivolous.

When he had fired the last shot and missed, he laid his head on his crossed arms and remained still for a long time. The Gypsy went back to reading her paperback, until the young man's sobbing disturbed her.

"Look, I'm sorry," she said. "You were so close. Here, have a glass of water on the house." She placed a tall glass of ice water before him. The young man ignored the water and continued to sob. The Gypsy rolled her eyes skyward and sighed loudly.

"OK," she said. "The boss will fire me if she finds out, but I can't stand to see a grown man cry. I'll give you one more shot, on the house. But you must promise never to tell."

The young man raised his head and gazed at her with sad red eyes. He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his silk shirt, and stood up. He took up the rifle slowly, brought it to his shoulder and pointed it at the small window where the golden star winked. He was suddenly very calm.

He pulled the trigger smoothly and the star disintegrated into a thousand golden fragments.

"Great shot!" said the Gypsy. "Congratulations."

The young man stood motionless, looking at the shimmering pile of shards on the floor. "Do I get anything?" he finally said.

"You get wisdom."

"Where is it?"

"You've got it now."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"I don't feel wise."

"Believe me, you are."

"It doesn't seem right not to get a prize. Something . . . tangible."

The young woman sighed again. "OK. If it makes you feel better, you can have this." She reached under the counter and brought up a small teddy bear.

The young man took the bear and stared at it absently for a long time. Finally, he tucked it under his arm. "Am I still wise?" he asked.

"Sure."

The young man turned and stepped out into the sunlight. He stood at the edge of the dusty road and looked back toward the town. The dust from Dorothy's dash in that direction had long since settled. He sighed once, turned, and, without a word or nod to the Gypsy, began trudging along the road in the direction from which he had come days before. The Gypsy watched him mount successive ridges until he disappeared at the horizon. Then she went back to reading the paperback novel.