unbearable.
“Be careful not to crowd him.” Drakov continued. “I want you to do nothing that could arouse his suspicion, but I do want you to report to me concerning everything he does and whom he sees. Especially anyone newly arrived in town. I’ll have him watched, so I don’t want you following him. But when you’re with him, pay close attention to everything he says. If he asks you about Stone and Bailey, as he most assuredly will, play on his suspicions. You have already made a good beginning. Emphasize that both men have not been in Tombstone long and little is known about them, only be subtle. In particular, direct his attention at Ben Stone. You’ve been with Stone. Tell Neilson that there was something about him that seemed foreign somehow, something more than a little frightening, though you couldn’t put your finger on it. Tell him he was cruel.”
“He was.” said Jennifer. She shuddered. “The things he made me do
…”
“Tell him that,” Drakov said. “The way you just told me. With that little shiver of disgust. It’s perfect. Neilson will ask what sort of things. Any man would. Only you will refuse to go into any details. You will beg him not to press you on the subject. It’s painful and humiliating. Neilson’s imagination will supply the rest.”
“Master forgive me, hut is there no chance that you could be mistaken about him?”
Drakov stared at her and frowned. “Mistaken’?”
“It’s… it’s just that he seems so nice… so kind… so gentle… It seems, so hard to think of him as an enemy.”
“Ah. I see,” said Drakov. “Do not allow his manner to deceive you, Jennifer. Naturally, he will not seem as coarse and rough as the men that you have grown accustomed to. He comes from another time. He is much more hygienic, more educated, more refined. That is only to be expected. His attitudes toward women are much different from those of the men you’ll find in Tombstone. But take care not to let that influence you. Do not underestimate him. You have already seen that he is an accomplished killer. Think about that and not his gentle manner. If he were to discover what you really are, he would kill you without the slightest hesitation. Remember that. “
Jennifer felt a chill run through her. “1… I will remember.”
Drakov nodded. “Good. You have done well. Now go.”
Jennifer turned and left the room. She was escorted back to the chronoplate and she stepped into its field. The border Circuits flashed and she disappeared, to another place and time.
4
George Spangenberg’s gun shop wasn’t much to look at, merely a small store with wood-plank floors and walls, a few wooden chairs, a cracker barrel and three glass-topped display cabinets, but to Scott, it was like entering a wonderland. The racks behind the counters displayed Winchester rifles, carbines and shotguns, and even a few Sharps buffalo rifles chambered in. 50 caliber.
The holster rigs gave off the pleasant smell of brand-new leather. Some were made in the Territorial style, covering the entire gun except for the grips, so that the weapon sat very low in the holster. It was not a rig designed for a fast draw, but it provided greater security for the weapon. Others were cut slightly lower, such as the Main and Winchester holsters designed for percussion revolvers and the slim, open-bottomed holsters for metallic cartridge pistols. There were doubled-looped, Texan-style holsters, with wide leather skirts, some in plain, smooth leather, others border-stamped with decorations or carved with floral designs. The belts were looped for cartridges, some made in smooth leather, others in roughout, some plain and others carved, some sewn as money belts, so that coins could be slipped into them through an opening behind the buckle. There were leather carbine scabbards for carrying a rifle on a saddle, military-style flap holsters and leather pouches, handsome silver buckles and even Civil War belts with the letters “C.S.A.” on the buckles. Union buckles with the letters “U.S.” on them were conspicuously absent. But the guns in the display cases were what really caught Scott’s attention. There was a profusion of Colt Single Action Armys, chambered in. 45 and. 44–40 calibers, most with the longer, seven-and-a- half-inch barrels, blued with color case-hardened finish and oil-stained walnut grips. There were a few Colts that would become known to future-era collectors as “U.S. Marshalls,” those made under government contract and stamped on their wood grips with the date of manufacture and the government inspector’s cartouche, as well as with the letters “U.S.” on the left side of the frame. There were Colt and Remington derringers and pocket pistols, percussion pistols that had been converted to fire metallic cartridges, Smith amp; Wesson top-break revolvers. sidehammers, Colt Navys and Remington revolvers and even a couple of cased Walker Colts.
These monsters, with nine-inch barrels and a weight of four pounds and nine ounces, chambered in. 44 caliber, were the largest production handguns Colt had ever made, named in honor of Captain Samuel Hamilton Walker, the Texas Ranger who had helped design them. When fired, they sounded like a howitzer going off. There were only about a thousand of them made. They were the rarest of all Colt pistols and Scott burned to have them for his collection.
“Help you, sir?”
The man who’d spoken was a small, trim, slightly bookish-looking individual who looked to be in his late forties. He had a receding hairline and wore little, round, wire-rimmed glasses and a leather apron over a white shirt and dark wool trousers.
“You’d be Mr. Spangenberg?” said Scott.
“No, sir. Mr. Spangenberg is out. I’m his assistant, Zeke Bailey. Is there something I can show you?”
“Oh, you’re the gunsmith, then.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I was admiring these Walkers,” Scott said. “Always wanted to get me a couple.”
“I’m afraid those aren’t for sale, sir. They are only for display purposes.”
“I could make you a good offer.”
“No. I’m sorry, sir, they’re not for sale, as I said. They’re my personal property. They belonged to my father. I couldn’t possibly sell them. However, if you’re interested in percussion pistols. I could show you some very fine Colt Navys that we have, just like Wild Bill Hickok’s.”
“No. I don’t think so.” Scott said. He would have liked to have them, but he reminded himself that he wasn’t here shopping for his collection. “I think I need something a bit more practical.”
“Well, then, you can’t go wrong with one of these.” said Bailey, opening up a display case, teaching in and taking out a Colt Single Action Army. 45 with a seven-and-a-half-inch barrel, blued with a color case-hardened frame and walnut grips.
“I think I’d like a shorter barrel.” Scott said.
“Ah,” said Bailey, replacing the revolver in the case. “Something like this, perhaps?”
He took out a Colt with a four-and-three-quarter-inch barrel, blued and color case-hardened, with dark walnut grips. It was also a. 45.
Scott took it from him and examined it. He pulled back the hammer to half cock and slowly rotated the cylinder, holding the gun close to his ear and listening to the lockwork.
“I see you know your guns,” said Bailey. “You’re the Montana Kid, aren’t you? I’ve heard about you. Heard you shot three men in the Alhambra the very first day you came to town.”
“It was two men, in the Oriental.” Scott said,” and it was self-defense.”
“Oh, I have no doubt that it was,” Bailey said, hastily. “I merely wished to say that it’s a privilege to have a shootist such as yourself in our store. In fact, I think we could even arrange a discount. I’ll let you have that piece right there for twenty-five dollars and I’ll throw in two boxes of cartridges.”
“Sounds like a good deal to me.” said Scott.
“Hear you use the crossdraw.” Bailey said. “I have an unusual rig here that just might strike your fancy.”
He turned around and took down a peculiar looking holster rig from a coat tree that was festooned with them.
“Fella came in about six months ago and ordered it made up special. Heard about that holster vest John Wesley Hardin used to wear and wanted a two-gun shoulder rig made up. Man was a greenhorn. You could tell straight off, but his money was just as good as anybody else’s. When he picked it up, he put it on and stuck two brand-new Colts in it. Had them made up special too, ordered straight from the factory in Hanford. Had more money
