The trio made their way through the throng of onlookers, which was unsurprisingly composed of mostly cowhands and cattlemen. They found two men at the wagon. The salesman, atop, was small, rotund, and wearing a bowler. He was displaying, for the crowd’s admiration, a shiny black revolver.

The fellow with him, standing in the street, sported a wide-brimmed, black hat, had long hair and a sculpted beard, and wore a fancily embroidered suit along with equally fancy hand-carved boots. He also wore twin cross-draw holsters and was firing a pair of pistols at a deck of playing cards set up against a backdrop in the wagon.

“. . . the best sidearm to ever grace the frontier,” the salesman bellowed to his rapt audience as he held the revolver aloft, like a chalice in a religious ceremony.

“Stronger of frame,” he continued, “more accurate, lighter of weight, better of balance, smoother of trigger, and chambered in the .44 caliber cartridge, Colt’s new Single Action Army revolver has been adopted by none other than the United States Army! These extraordinary weapons, as you can see demonstrated in the capable hands of none other than famous Union war hero, Indian fighter, and pistoleer, Colonel Dexter Bennington, are the finest, most accurate, one-handed guns ever built!”

As the salesmen made his impassioned speech, Colonel Bennington slowly shot the playing cards, one at a time, from ten paces. He held the pistols at arm’s length, with one eye closed, aiming carefully between shots.

“Look at that,” Ditch whistled. “A gen-u-wine Yankee war hero and Indian fighter.”

“Never heard of him,” Pritchard said.

“I have,” Paul said. “I heard tell that dandy spent the war in Washington, fightin’ off senators’ wives. The only Indians he ever shot were in front of a cigar store, and made out of wood.”

“While these incredible guns will not be in full production and widely available to the general public for several more months,” the peddler continued, “due to the army’s demand for them, I happen to have a limited supply of these magnificent weapons right here in my wagon, direct from the Colt factory in Hartford, Connecticut. One of these unparalleled pistols, the finest in the world, can be yours for the meager sum of only twenty dollars. That’s right, folks; for a twenty-dollar gold piece, you can get your very own Colt’s revolver! For another five dollars, I’ll throw in a holster and a box of cartridges to go with it!”

“Twenty dollars for a pistol?” Paul said.

“Must be quite a pistol,” Pritchard said.

“Or that salesman is quite a thief,” Ditch said.

“Actually,” Pritchard said, “he’s smart. Selling his guns in a cowtown like Abilene, in the summer, when all the hands are flush with cash, is a shrewd play. Betcha he wouldn’t get twenty dollars for ’em in Kansas City in January.”

“I reckon not,” Ditch agreed.