They were the worst bunch of bushwhackers this side of the Dakota and Arizona territories. They rode their black mares with a slow certainty that bespoke of their grim purpose. Or, rather, shoot out a scenario just like that one. Shooters emerge through swinging doors, crouch behind troughs, and come out of a seated position in a makeshift outhouse to blast targets. The fastest shooter through the scenarios with the least number of misses wins.
All guns start out with their hammers down on an empty chamber so that no errant shots are fired.
And the guns are supervised as they are loaded at a separate, roped-off table. Suddenly, the call of the West has become safety, safety, safety. Quick, move on to the steel targets, and take aim at the coffin cut-outs, the cowboy silhouette, a rattlesnake, an American Indian brave, or a cuspidor. Total period appropriate clothing is optional, but a Stetson soon becomes a gateway drug to chaps city. Everyone of the Geechee Gunfighters has an alter-ego they can hang their hat on.