Parnell Hall - The Wrong Gun

Steve Winslow leaned back in his chair, cocked his head, and looked across his desk at the man holding the gun.

Russ Timberlaine looked like hed stepped out of the road company of Indians. He could have played Ned Buntline, Buffalo Bill or Wild Bill Hickok, no problem. His blond hair hung to his shoulders. He was dressed in boots, jeans, denim shirt, buckskin vest and cowboy hat. He was a tall man, say six-six, broad-shouldered and solid. Looking at him, the term cowpuncher came to mind. He looked like he could stop a stampede just by standing there and letting the cattle run into him.

Completing the picture was a hand tooled gun belt and holster. The holster was now empty, since Russ Timberlaine had drawn the gun.

Know anything about guns? Timberlaine said.

Steve Winslow shook his head. Not a thing.

Timberlaine glanced over at Tracy Garvin. What about you, young lady?

Tracy shook the long blonde hair out of her face, pushed her glasses up on her nose. She smiled. Only what I read in books.

What kind of books?

Murder mysteries.

Timberlaine grinned and shook his head. Then you know about as much as the boss. Ninety percent inaccurate, those things are.

Timberlaine chuckled, looked at the gun a moment, then turned it around and extended it to Steve. Here, take a look.

Is it loaded?

Yes.

Then Id better not mess with it.

Timberlaine nodded approvingly. Good man. I wish more people had that attitude. He extended the gun. Go ahead. Take it. Its not loaded. I just say it is, cause you should always handle a gun as if it were loaded. If your reaction is not to touch it, youve got the right idea. Here. Go on. Take it.

Steve took the gun, turned it over in his hand. Knowing nothing about guns, there wasnt much for him to observe. It was a revolver, that he could tell. And it seemed to go with the Wild West image Russ Timberlaine was attempting to cultivate. It had what appeared to be wooden handles, though again Steve couldnt tell if thats what they really were.

Steve noticed a flaw on one of them. Looking closer, he saw that it was a scratch. He tilted the handle, made it more visible. Sure enough, the letter R had been scratched onto the handle of the gun.

Steve looked up to find Russ Timberlaine watching him closely.

Well? Timberlaine said.

Steve pointed. This R on the handle. Is that for Russ?

Timberlaine winced. Hell, no. You think Id deface one of my guns.

Steve smiled. Obviously not. So whats the R?

The R is for Robbins. As in Pete Robbins. As in Pistol Pete Robbins.

Youre kidding.

Timberlaine grinned. Not at all. They really existed. The Kids and the Pistols. Hell, even the Deadeyes and the Two-guns and the Slims and the Reds. Anybody ever killed anybody got some kind of nickname laid on em.

Like Pistol Pete Robbins?

Exactly. Now that son of a bitch, Pistol Pete, killed five guys that they know of, and lived to the ripe old age of twenty-six, when he was gunned down by, get this, Sheriff Montana Pride.

Oh, no.

Oh, yes. Timberlaines eyes were gleaming. The pride of Montana. He must have taken some kidding over that, which might explain why he was such a mean son of a bitch. At any rate, guess who this Montana Pride turned out to be?

Pistol Petes boyhood friend?

Bingo.

Jesus Christ.

Hey, these things are documented.

By whom? Mexican maidens who play guitars and sing?

Timberlaine grinned. Its not as bad as all that. There were newspapers back then. Some of the accounts written exist to this day. Theres a lot of stuff on microfilm, and if you dig you can find it.

Fine. So?

So the legend of Pistol Pete is an authenticated part of the history of the Old West.

Steve nodded. I see. And this gun is therefore valuable.

No, it isnt.

Steve frowned. Why not?

Russ Timberlaine shrugged and shook his head. Its the wrong gun.

Steve Winslow frowned. I beg your pardon?

Its not my gun. I dont know how else to say it. Its not mine.

You mean someone switched guns on you?

Exactly.

How could that happen?

I dont know how it could happen. Thats what Im trying to figure out. The point is it did.

So this gun is not Pistol-Pete-whoevers despite the R on the handle?

Of course not. Someone scratched the R on the handle to make it look like mine. It could have been done yesterday.

Is that when the gun was stolen?

I dont know.

Oh?

I noticed it last week. Thats why Im here now. Obviously thats the first time I noticed. But when was the last time I looked at the gun? I mean carefully enough to see the difference. I try to think back and I dont know.

Where was the gun kept?

Thats just it. In a display case. In my study. Along with a bunch of other guns. Glass enclosed. The gun sits in a rack. If I glanced at it lying there in the case I might not notice. Im trying to think. When was the last time I took it out, picked it up? The last time I know for sure. And damn it all, I cant remember.

Steve held up his hand. O.K., he said. Pardon me for a moment, but as I said, I know nothing about guns. How do you identify your gun, and how do you know this isnt it? Are you going by the serial number?

Timberlaine shook his head. He pointed. Turn the gun over. Look there, on the other side of the barrel in front of the cylinder. See those scratches?

Steve turned the gun over and looked. The area Timberlaine had indicated was a crosshatch of metal scratches. Thats where the serial number was, Timberlaine said. Only its been filed off. On my gun and on this one.

Why? On the real gun, I mean.

Theory is Pistol Pete did it himself. Apparently a lot of cowboys did. Superstitious. Didnt want a number on their gun. The gun was their lifeline. Always workin on it. Cleaning and oiling it. Carving things in the handle. So a lot of them took the numbers off.

If theres no number, how can you tell this isnt yours?

How do you know one paintings an original and anothers a copy? I know my gun, and that isnt it.

Fine, but could you give me a concrete reason?

Sure. Just look at it. See the cylinder? Youll notice the metal on the cylinders slightly lighter than the metal on the barrel. See that? Why, because this guns been rebuilt and the cylinders been replaced. See what Im sayin? The cylinders newer than the rest of the gun, so its lighter in color.

Thats one thing. For another thing, the whole gun is lighter in color. Than the real gun, I mean. That means the whole gun is probably more recent. My gun dates back to 1862. What this is I couldnt tell you.

I see.

Then theres the handles. To begin with, the woods lighter. And if that werent enough, look at the R. Whoever did this rubbed something in the scratches to try to age em, but you can tell the difference. No way that R is a hundred and some odd years old. That carving is fresh.

Timberlaine looked up. You want more?

No, thats pretty convincing. All right, someone stole your gun and substituted a duplicate. Ill buy that. Tell me. The original-was it valuable?

Timberlaine nodded. Relatively. I paid twenty thousand dollars for it. And that was ten years ago. The price has doubtless gone up.

Doubtless, Steve said. Mr. Timberlaine, why are you here?

Timberlaine frowned. I beg your pardon?

A valuable gun of yours has been stolen. Why are you consulting a lawyer? Why dont you go to the police?

Well, thats a problem.

Whats a problem?

Well, for one thing, as I said, the serial number had been scratched off.

Yeah. So?

Technically that makes the gun an illegal firearm.

You paid twenty thousand dollars for an illegal gun?