by Peter Grant
“I’m going to sell them with half a pound of birdshot, the same of buckshot, half a dozen musket balls, and enough wads, powder and percussion caps for twenty-five rounds. I’ll charge eight dollars for the whole package, and make a profit of more than six dollars on each one. Ours will be the only store offering shotguns at affordable prices, which should draw customers like honey draws flies. Those who buy them will want more ammunition and other shooting supplies, too, and maybe even more guns. I’ll offer a shotgun and a former army revolver at a special price for the pair. They’ll sell like hot cakes, or my name isn’t Walt Ames!”
―――――
Walt found that customer demand for his musket-shotguns soon outstripped the time he had available to convert them. He hired a local youngster named Paul, and taught him how to measure and cut the barrel and ramrod, shorten the fore-end, and clean, sand and oil the woodwork. The better barrels were cut to sporting length, while those more damaged or worn were shortened even further to make coach guns. Walt re-crowned each barrel, fitted a brass bead sight, and went over the lock to make sure everything was in order. Between the two of them, even with the other demands of the shop, they could convert two or three muskets each day. They never stayed in stock for long.
Rose started teaching at a private school a few blocks from the shop. She worked there for six hours a day, then came home to keep the shop’s accounts, cook, and clean. As she learned more about bookkeeping she passed on her knowledge to Walt, so that before long they were able to do the books together. She also encouraged him to broaden his education. He bought books and began to read them in the evenings: Plutarch’s Lives, Blackstone’s Commentaries on the Laws of England, de Tocqueville’s Democracy in America, and other classic works. They settled into a cheerfully cozy domestic life together.
Walt borrowed two Colt Army revolvers from his stock and began to experiment with the holsters he’d taken off the body of the outlaw in Missouri. He was intrigued to find that his speed on the draw was faster than from a military-issue flap holster, but disappointed that the soft leather from which the holsters were made sometimes bound up the gun. He approached a leatherworker who’d bought one of the other shops in his building. Jeremy Davis was an Englishman who’d landed in San Francisco a decade before and somehow never made it home. He was still working his way eastwards. Like Walt and Rose, he and his wife had decided to spend the winter in Leavenworth City, accumulating funds before continuing their journey.
“Have you seen this style of holster before?” Walt asked him.
“Oh, yes. It’s common enough in California. Out there they’re known as Slim Jims.”
“The straight-up pull is faster than the cavalry twist draw I’ve used up to now, but the height is wrong, and the soft leather sometimes binds on the gun.”
“That’s because this holster is old and worn. It should have been replaced long ago.”
“I figured as much. I was wondering whether doubling over the leather at the back of the holster to make the belt loop, but leaving it long and stitching it all the way down to the toe instead of cutting it off below the loop, would make it more rigid. That’d make it easier to draw the gun.”
“Yes, a double layer would be stiffer. I can also use thicker, better-quality leather, which would have the same effect. As for the height being wrong, revolver barrels are seven to eight inches long. That makes it hard to get your elbow high enough when pulling them out of a holster at waist height. If the barrels were half that length, you wouldn’t have to lift the gun so high.”
“But you wouldn’t burn all the powder in a heavy charge if the barrel was that short.” Walt scratched his chin thoughtfully. “What if the belt loop were raised an inch or so above the mouth of the holster? That would position the gun a little lower.”
“I see what you mean. I can make you up a holster like that, then you can see if it works for you.”
“I’d like that. Also, these holsters swallow almost the whole gun, leaving only the bottom two-thirds of the grip showing. Could you cut down the upper part so that the grip and hammer are exposed, to allow me to reach them better? You could also leave the rear third of the trigger guard open. The leather would rise from there to cover the whole cylinder.” Walt illustrated what he meant with his finger, tracing it along the leather of the old holster.
“I’ve seen variations like that, although they offer less protection to the gun, of course. I’ll see what I can do.”
The newly made holsters, a straight-up draw on the right and a cross-draw on the left, were considerably stiffer and worked much better than the ones Walt had captured. They were sized to fit his Remingtons, which were a little larger than the Colts the outlaw had carried. He practiced with them for several days before going back to the Englishman.
“They’re just what I wanted. My draw’s about half a second faster now, and it’s much smoother too. I’d like another cross-draw holster to fit this Colt Pocket Police revolver.” He laid it on the counter. “That’s for my wife. Also, these holsters don’t have flaps, so there’s a risk of losing a gun if you fall off your horse. Can you put rawhide loops on them, to fit over the hammer spur? Make them tight enough to stop the gun falling out, but loose enough that they can be pulled off in a hurry if necessary, to hang down the side of the holster.”
“Sure, that’s easily done.”
Samson and Elijah showed up for a brief visit, in between their trips taking wagon trains across the prairie. Both had visibly grown in self-confidence, as well as mastery of their craft. They looked closely at his holsters.
“Where you get dese, suh?” Samson asked.
“The second shop down. The owner is Jeremy Davis. Tell him I sent you, and he’ll make some for you as well. His prices are fair.”
“I’ll do dat, suh. Reckon you’ll want a pair too, ’Lijah.”
“Yeah, I do. We got two guns now, so we may as well get holsters for both of dem.”
As word spread, Jeremy began to do a roaring trade, particularly among Samson’s and Elijah’s fellow teamsters. The cross-draw holsters proved particularly suitable for them, as they were easier to use while driving a wagon. Jeremy and Walt came to a mutually profitable agreement. Jeremy sent those asking him about guns to see Walt, and Walt sent those asking him about holsters and saddle boots to see Jeremy.
The winter passed faster than Walt would have ever imagined, but he and Rose were still eager to begin the next stage of their journey.
Samson and Elijah came to visit late one afternoon in March 1866, while the mud in the street outside was still frozen, and ice still made the plank sidewalk treacherous. They were dressed like old plains hands, wearing knee-length buffalo-hide dusters as they walked into the shop.
“Aren’t those awfully heavy?” Rose asked as she fingered Elijah’s jacket, fur side outermost.
“Yes, dey is, ma’am, but dey’s warm!” Elijah retorted. They laughed at his emphasis as he walked over to the coal stove, took off his thick mittens and extended his hands over its heat with a sigh of pleasure.
“Are you still working on the wagons?” she asked. The wagon trains had stopped running in December. Most of the drivers had been laid off for the winter, but Samson and Elijah had been kept on the payroll to repair and overhaul the wagons and harness for the coming year.
“We jus’ ’bout finished, ma’am,” Samson informed them. “De boss say we run de firs’ train in two weeks. He say de army ain’t gonna wait for it to get warmer. Dey want to build up de forts out on de plain afore de wagon trains start to roll. Dey’s expectin’ a lot more dis year.”
Walt and Rose exchanged glances. “Are they expecting more Indian trouble as well?” he asked.
“Yassuh. Worse dan ever, dey reckon. De fort scouts, dey say de Injuns gettin’ real angry over de railroad pushin’ t’rough. Dey say dis dere ancestors’ huntin’ grounds an’ de white people tryin’ to push dem out. Dey paintin’ for war.”
“Dat’s true, suh,” Elij
ah said somberly. “Samson an’ I was on wagon trains dey attacked last year. Dey fight real fierce. For dem, it be for pride an’ honor more dan for land, I t’ink. We heard dem shoutin’ as dey charged. De scout, he say dey was callin’ to each udder dat it was a good day to die. Dey scary fast, suh. Dey charge in like lightnin’. If you shoot dere hoss, dey jump off into de long grass an’ sneak up on you, den jump up an’ charge from real close. If you ain’t got a loaded gun ready, dey gonna be on you in seconds an’ you gonna be bad hurt or killed. I seen dat several times. Dey be darn good fighters, suh.”
Walt nodded. “I’ve heard the same from the scouts up at the fort, and read it in books about the plains Indians over the past winter.”
Samson said, “Suh, if you got dem, we wanna buy Henry rifles. De Spencer, it real nice an’ it work real well, but it take an extra step to cock de hammer after workin’ de lever. Dat slows you down. Wid de Henry you don’t need to cock de hammer—de lever do dat—so dey faster to shoot, an’ dey hold more bullets, too.”
“I’ve got three in stock.” Walt turned, took them from a rack, and laid them on the counter. “Pick the two you like. I’ll take your Spencers in trade, if you want, and sell you these at my cost price.”
“T’ank you, suh, but udder drivers already wanna buy our Spencers. We want lots o’ Henry ca’tridges, too. We been savin’ our money.”
“I can give you four hundred right away. That’s all I have in stock. I’ll order more from my supplier. Are you still planning on coming to Colorado Territory with us later this year? I’ll match what Mr. Jones is paying you, so you won’t lose any money.”
They exchanged glances. “We’d like dat, suh, t’ank you,” Samson assured him. “Only problem is, we’s movin’ to Topeka in two weeks—de whole operation. De boss say, now dat de trains go dere, supplies gonna ship to de railhead an’ we take dem onward. He say dat by de end of dis year, he gonna move again to Junction City. How we gwine t’ know when you ready to go?”
“You can expect us in Topeka by the first of May. We’ll meet you there. I’ll send a telegraph message when we leave here.”
“What you gonna do for wagons, suh?”
“Rose and I will live in her ambulance. I’m going to buy another wagon for our belongings. We’ll only need one, I think.”
Elijah made a face. “Suh, don’t be like most of de travelers an’ buy an ox wagon. Dey can carry two, maybe t’ree times de freight ob a hoss or mule wagon, but dey slow. If you wants to travel wid one o’ Mistuh Jones’ trains, you needs a fast wagon.”
“Dat’s true, suh,” Samson agreed. “Dere’s anudder t’ing. Mule prices be real high right now. De army’s buyin’ all it can get. Iffen you buys a mule wagon, you’se gonna pay dear for a team an’ mebbe not get de bes’ animals. Iffen you don’t figure on carryin’ a heavy load like las’ year, it be a lot cheaper to buy a hoss team.”
“That’s a good point. I’ll buy a four-horse wagon. They’re as fast as a mule wagon, and four animals are easier to handle than six.”
“Dat’s true, suh. Also, don’t load it too heavy. Out dere, we see de trail marked by stuff t’rown off dere wagons by settlers to lighten dem. Dere’s beds, cupboards, chairs, sofas, stoves, even a piano one time. Take de least you can o’ dat stuff, an’ load up wid food an’ ammunition. You use dat up as you travel, so de wagon get lighter. You prob’ly gonna have to fight Injuns at least once on de way t’rough Kansas, maybe two, t’ree times. De boss say, if you got to run for a place where you can fort up an’ fight, too much weight gonna slow down your team an’ mebbe break your wagon. Dat get you killed for sure.”
Again, Walt and Rose exchanged concerned glances. “I hear you. Where can I buy good horses?”
“Suh, de boss, he gwine up to Atchison nex’ week. A dealer up dere gettin’ in fresh stock from Missouri to auction—mules an’ hosses, all broken to harness an’ de saddle. Mistuh Jones reckon he’s gonna have to pay high, but says dey gonna be de bes’ stock on de market right now. Iffen you gives him de money, I dessay he’d buy a team for you too. For a wagon, bes’ get a new, strong one, not broken-down and wore-out like so many I seen on de trail. De boss, he orders dem from Milt Stone in Kansas City. He charges high, but he got good strong wagons for hoss, mule or ox.”
“I’ll talk to Mr. Jones and write to Mr. Stone, thank you. I’ll ask your boss to buy a couple of extra horses as well. One of you can ride while the other’s driving the wagon; and if the Indians manage to kill or steal any of our horses, we’re going to need spares.”
“What you gonna do wid dis shop, suh?”
“I’ll sell it, along with any stock I have left.”
After Samson and Elijah had gone, as they locked up for the night, Rose observed, “We’ve done better than all right since you opened this place. We’ve got almost six thousand dollars in the bank now, plus the value of the shop and its stock, and my ambulance and team. I think you may have a head for business, dear.”
Walt grinned to himself. He’d never told Rose the true story of how he’d come by so many of the guns he’d brought from Missouri. He reckoned now that he probably never would. Let her think the best of him, rather than the worst. He contented himself with saying, “It’s not as much as I’d have liked to have earned, but I suppose it’s a whole lot better than it could have been. I could never have done it without your help, though. The best piece of business I ever did was marrying you.”
She dimpled, and hugged him. “Are you worried about the possibility of Indian attacks, darling? Should we delay heading out until next year? It might be safer if we wait.”
“There’s no guarantee next year will be any better. If we’re going to go, let’s go. When I talk to Mr. Jones, I’ll ask him if we can join up with one of his army supply trains. We know his drivers can look after themselves, and they’ll have a military escort.”
“That would put me more at ease. What about selling the shop, its fittings, and the furniture we don’t take with us?”
“I’m a little worried about that, actually. Now that the railhead’s reached Topeka, fewer wagon trains are forming here, so there are less customers for shops selling goods to them. That’ll make it more difficult to get a good price for the store, but I’m not greedy. All I want is enough to buy our new wagon and horses, and help buy supplies for the journey. Even if we lose money compared to what we paid for everything last year, I’ll be satisfied with that much.”
Rose shook her head. “Remember, dear, last year we were thinking of renting a store, rather than buying one. If we’d done that, we’d be out of pocket almost a thousand dollars by now. If you recover even half our purchase costs, we’ll still be better off than if we’d rented.”
“True, and we’ll get back more than half—more like three-quarters or better.” He picked up the last Henry rifle from the counter. “I’ll hold a sale to move most of our stock, and sell the rest with the shop; but after what Samson and Elijah told us, I’m going to keep this. We each have our own rifles, but one might break, and there’s no way to get parts out on the prairie. Having a spare Henry will make me a lot more comfortable in my mind.”
“Good idea. You’d better get lots more ammunition, too.”
“Yes. I want to take with us five hundred rounds for each rifle. That’s got to see us all the way to Denver City. I’d rather have too much than too little.”
“What happened to the Henry you took off that outlaw in Missouri?”
“Oh, I sold that long ago. I sold all their weapons except the revolvers I gave to Samson and Elijah.” He thought for a moment. “I’ll take the last of the musket-shotguns with us, too.”
She smiled. “You met a real need with those.”
“Yes. We’ve sold a hundred and sixty-nine of them all told. They’re the single biggest reason for our success. They brought in a lot of customers. People who bought them bought other supplies as well, just as I hoped they would, and some bought another gun too.”
“Where a
re the last shotguns? I don’t see any in the store.”
“I’ll show you.”
He led her to a rack of six coach guns in the back room. Their barrels were even shorter than usual, ranging from fourteen to sixteen inches long. “I built these from the muskets in the worst condition—crushed or split barrels, cracked woodwork, broken locks and more. I rescued the salvageable parts, married them together, and threw away the rest. The finish was so poor that I ended up painting the barrels black and the stocks brown. I even had to bind three of the stocks with wire. Still, they all work. I can’t expect people to buy them looking like this, so I’ll put three in each of our wagons. Firing buckshot, they’ll hit much harder than a revolver or a rifle at close range.”
“They may be useful, I suppose, even if only as cheap trade goods.”
“That’s the idea.”
―――――
The new wagon arrived two weeks later. The teamster who delivered it said cheerfully, “It’s one of our best. Rides real smooth an’ easy. You’ve got a spare axle an’ two spare wheels, just as you asked.”
“Thank you very much,” Walt said as he paid him the balance due. “I’m glad you had one available.”
“Mister, you ordered it just in time. When your letter and deposit arrived we had three wagons left. Two days later they was all sold. A lot of travelers are gonna be disappointed. They come in all the time, wavin’ money at the boss an’ wantin’ a wagon. Heck, someone tried to buy this one from me while I was bringin’ it here!”
“Thanks for not selling it to them.”
The driver grinned. “I figured, you ownin’ a gun shop an’ all, that might not be the safest thing a man could do.”