Brings the Lightning (The Ames Archives Book 1) (6 page)

The hired hack drew up outside a storefront labeled, in gold script on the glass window, “Josiah Fitch, Esq. Guns”.

“This is the place, sir,” the driver said, turning to Walt as he sat in the rear of the open buggy.

“Thankee. Wait here while I get my things, if you don’t mind.” He handed him a couple of greenbacks.

“Yessir!”

A bell rang as Walt opened the door, and a man sitting at a workbench behind the counter looked up as he removed a loupe from his eye. He looked to be in his early thirties, and was dressed in a white shirt over gray trousers beneath a craftsman’s apron.

“Good afternoon, sir. How may I be of assistance?”

Walt put down his burdens and offered his hand. “Good afternoon, Mr. Fitch. I’m Walter Ames, from Sparta. My brother-in-law-to-be, Lt. Jim Webber, allows you’re a good man to do business with. Also, my father, Edward Ames, brought his shotgun here for repair one time, and told me you drove a fair bargain.”

Fitch shook his hand firmly. “Your father is a fine gentleman, Mr. Ames. I’ve heard the lieutenant speak of his bride-to-be, but I didn’t know she had a brother.”

“I’ve been away. The war, you know.”

“I see. Were you in Lt. Webber’s unit?”

“No, a different regiment.” Walt grinned inwardly.
Better not tell him just how different,
he decided. It still wasn’t clear whether paroled Confederate soldiers were permitted to bear arms after they got home. Policies varied from district to district. “I’ve got a few rifles and revolvers here that I don’t need. I want to buy weapons that’ll be more suitable for the western frontier. I’d like to trade these against the others, and pay the balance.”

“So you’re bound for the west? I’ll be glad to assist you. I don’t guarantee the lowest prices, but they’ll be reasonable, and I’ll give fair value for whatever I take in trade from you.”

“Fair enough.” Walt undid the ties fastening the blanket roll and spread it out to expose the guns inside. “I’ve got three carbines, two Sharps and a Burnside.” He indicated the carpetbag. “In the bag there’s an Army Colt, a Navy Colt, a Lemat, and a Smith & Wesson Model 2, the .32 caliber.”

“The Sharps are in high demand; the Burnside less so. All the revolvers are popular models, the Colts in particular. May I?”

“Please do.”

The gunsmith spent ten minutes examining each firearm closely, opening the action, checking the chambers and bore for corrosion, and testing the lockup of the mechanism. At last he set down the Burnside carbine. “These have been well cared for, Mr. Ames. Your handiwork?”

“Yes. I learned how to look after them from our unit armorer. If they came to me in good condition, I kept them that way.”

“You were fortunate in your instructor. I see many firearms whose owners failed to clean them properly, leading to corrosion and pitting from blackpowder salts. What do you want to buy?”

“It’s a long list. First off, I want three of the Remington New Model Army & Navy .44 revolvers, the 1863 model with the safety notches cut in the cylinder, plus a spare cylinder for each of them.”

Fitch frowned. “I have one, but two more may be hard to source in a hurry if you’re leaving soon. I may have to recommend you to someone else to buy them.”

“I’ll let you source them for me, Mr. Fitch, even from a competitor if necessary, in order to keep things simple. I’ll even accept a lightly used example if necessary. My time here is limited, so I’ll trust you to do the best you can for me.”

The gunsmith nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate your trust. If I may ask, why the Remington revolvers? Many people prefer the grip shape and slightly lighter weight of the Colt Army model.”

“I do too, but the Colt’s got three shortcomings. First, you’ve got to lower the hammer on an empty chamber to carry it safely—the pins between each chamber simply don’t hold it securely enough. That means it’s a five-shooter unless you have enough warning to load the sixth chamber, and that doesn’t often happen before danger strikes. With the Remington you can load all six chambers, then lower the hammer into a safety notch between them. Second, the Colt mechanism binds up particularly badly if a spent percussion cap falls into the action. I had the opportunity to try one of the Remingtons last year, and found it wasn’t affected as much by that problem. Finally, the Colt has an open frame. If you have to whomp someone over the head with the barrel, you might bend it. The Remington has a top strap, which makes it much stronger.”

Fitch smothered a smile. “I daresay it is. You appear to have far more extensive experience with weapons than my average client. If I may ask another question, why three revolvers?”

“Spares are always useful. I may be a long way from a gunsmith out West. Also, I may need to arm a companion in an emergency.” He didn’t explain his real reason; that he’d habitually ridden with three revolvers for most of the past two years. There had been one or two times when he’d shot all three dry, and wished he’d had a fourth.

“That’s true. Next?”

“I need a repeating rifle. I used a Spencer cavalry carbine during the war, and liked it, but a couple of times I came across Henry rifles that held more than twice as many rounds.” He didn’t bother to explain that they’d been in the hands of his foes, and had made life miserable for him and his comrades. “I’d like one of them.”

“I have one, but I must warn you that it’s a particularly fine example, and therefore more expensive than usual.” He took down a rifle from a rack. “It has a twenty-four-inch octagonal barrel and a specially selected, highly figured walnut stock. It’s forty-two dollars.”

Walt mentally winced at the price as he accepted the rifle, looked it over, worked the lever action, and sighted down the barrel. “Yes, that’s costly, particularly when you consider the Henry’s shortcomings. The powder charge is too light for use at longer ranges, and the slot in the loading tube for the follower can get clogged with dirt very easily. Still, in a close-range fight where you’ve got to put out a lot of lead in a hurry, you can’t beat having sixteen rounds on tap. I’ll take it. I want a lot of shells for it, too. I’ve got to learn how it shoots, and that means burning powder. There’s no other way to get to know a rifle. I also want to take plenty of ammunition with me.”

“I can accommodate you, even if I have to buy more from elsewhere. Will three hundred rounds be sufficient?”

“Yes, I think so. Next, I’m heading first for the plains, then the mountains. I’m told rifle shots out there are sometimes taken at longer ranges than we’re used to here in the East. I want something that can reach out a goodly distance with accuracy, and still be powerful enough to take down a buffalo or bear. What do you recommend?”

“I have the very thing.” Fitch took a long, heavy, gleaming rifle from a rack, and passed it over the counter. “This is a Sharps New Model 1859 military rifle, formerly owned by a member of the Second Regiment of Berdan’s Sharpshooters. It fires a linen cartridge holding a .52 caliber 350 grain lead bullet over 64 grains of powder. It has a thirty-inch heavy barrel, a double set trigger and sights graduated to a thousand yards. The Sharpshooter who sold it to me claimed he’d made shots at three to four hundred yards without difficulty, and once at over six hundred yards. It’s in excellent condition overall.”

Walt inspected it closely. For a former service rifle it had been very well, even lovingly, maintained. “Looks like just what I need. How much?”

“It’s costly—sixty-five dollars. These rifles are hard to come by. Not many were made of the special Berdan Sharpshooter model, and very few have come onto the civilian market, so they carry a premium.”

“I can understand that. I’ll take it. Let me have a hundred cartridges for it as well. Finally, I want something small and easily concealed. I was thinking of something like Henry Deringer’s single-shot pistols. I see you have a few on display.”

“Yes, I do; also Colt’s 1862 Pocket Police Model revolver, a five-shot .36 caliber that I think is a superior weapon for that purpose. The shortest version has a barrel only three-and-a-half inches long. However, you may wish to take advantage of the misfortune of a late customer of mine. He was a riverboat gambler who commissioned me to alter a Colt Army revolver to his specifications. Regrettably, he died in an altercation down in Natchez before he could pay for it and take delivery. If you want a concealed gun, it might suit you very well.”

He bent, rummaged in a drawer below the counter, and took out something wrapped in baize cloth. He unfolded it to reveal the strangest-looking revolver Walt had ever seen. The grip, frame and cylinder were conventional Colt components, but the hammer spur had been shortened, there was no loading lever, and the barrel had been cut back from eight to about two-and-a-half inches. The stub was topped with a high shotgun-style brass bead instead of a regular front sight. The gun had been expertly refinished.

“The muzzle blast must be something fierce,” Walt commented as he picked it up.

“Not as bad as you’d expect. My client planned to load it with fifteen grains of top-grade English priming powder. That burns much faster than regular gunpowder, to give the best possible velocity out of so short a barrel, but without the huge muzzle flash one would otherwise expect. It also has higher pressure, of course, but fifteen grains is only half the normal charge weight of regular powder, so that’s still within safe limits. I’ve made up fifty paper cartridges for it with that load.”

“Hmm… Accuracy? Power?”

“It’s designed for conversational distances like this, or across a card table. Accuracy isn’t an issue at such short ranges. As for power, I tested it after I cut down the barrel. From ten feet, a normal Colt Army revolver with its eight-inch barrel will drive a .44 lead ball through four or five one-inch pine boards, spaced an inch apart. A ball from this gun at ten feet, even with its reduced charge, will penetrate one board and lodge in the second. That’s twice as good as a typical Henry Deringer pistol; its ball won’t fully penetrate even one board.”

“How about that Colt Pocket Police model?”

“It penetrates about the same as this; one-and-a-half boards. I should add that it shoots rather high for its sights, but that’s something one can allow for with practice.”

“Yes, or have the front sight modified. How do you load this gun without a loading lever?”

“It comes with a custom-made ramrod. I suggest you remove the cylinder to load it.”

“I see. How much?”

“The gun was new, and then there’s the cost of my professional services on top of that. It’ll be forty-five dollars for the package. That includes its special ammunition and a shoulder holster. It’s surprisingly fast to draw from beneath a coat. The very short barrel helps, of course.”

“I’ll take it. I also want one—no, two of those short Pocket Police revolvers.”

“I have them in stock. Will that be all, sir?”

“Far from it. I want leather cases for the rifles, and a lot more.” Walt rattled off a long list of ammunition, accessories and supplies, while Fitch made hurried notes. “I’d like to collect everything by close of business tomorrow. Can you meet that deadline?”

“It’ll be tight, but yes, I think so. I suggest you bring a trunk in which to pack everything except the rifles—or I can supply one, of course.”

“Please do that, and provide protective padding to separate everything inside. What’s the total? I’ll pay you half now, half on collection tomorrow.”

“Give me a few moments, please.”

Fitch scribbled columns of numbers on a sheet of paper, muttering to himself as he made mental calculations. At last he looked up. “I’m afraid it’ll be expensive, Mr. Ames. I figure the cash price after your trades to be two hundred and forty-two dollars in gold, or twice that in greenbacks.”

“Done.”

Walt didn’t hesitate to hand over six double eagles. The profit margin on so large an order would ensure the gunsmith’s best efforts to get him all he needed before his departure. Of course, if his future brother-in-law ever found out that he’d used his name as a reference to buy weapons, despite his status as a paroled Confederate, he probably wouldn’t be happy; but by then Walt would be too far away for it to matter.

―――――

He arrived back at his hotel room to find that his new clothing had been delivered. He tried on one of the four sets of working clothes, finding them loose-fitting and comfortable. There were also six white shirts, four cotton and two silk, with stiff detachable collars; two conservatively-cut business suits; and a suitably elegant formal evening suit. He’d be well dressed during the journey to St. Louis, and would be able to create the right impression when he arrived there.

Walt examined the business suits carefully. There was room to tailor a narrow leather-lined pocket inside the left and right chest of each jacket, sized to fit a small Colt Pocket Police revolver. He resolved to get that done the very next day. The tailor might question his haste, but he figured payment in gold would produce rapid results. The jacket of the evening suit didn’t have as much space inside its lapels, but he’d foreseen that, and bought it sized a little larger in the chest than fashion dictated. That would allow him to conceal a shoulder holster beneath it.