“Well. I don’t know.” he said, picking up one of the guns and examining it critically “They certainly are a little on the showy side, aren’t they?”
“Well, anybody else might get a little ribbing with a rig like that.” said Bailey, “but I figure a serious shootist like yourself could carry them off without much trouble. And they’d be something that could add to your reputation. you know, like Bill Hickok and his brace of Navys. Tell you what. I’ll let you have the whole thing for sixty dollars and it’s a steal at that.”
“All right.” said Scott, barely able to hide his excitement.
“Hear tell you’re a good hand with a knife, as well.” said Bailey. “Don’t know as you’d be interested, but if you’d step over to this display case over here. I’ve got a few that I made up. Be anxious to see what you might think of ’em.”
Scott walked over to the other ease and once again, he caught his breath. The case held a number of Green River-style knives, popular among Buckskinners, as well as several large Bowies with staghorn grips, all extremely well-crafted specimens, but the blade that caught his eye was one forged of Damascus steel. It was a seven-inch stiletto with a rib running down the length of the entire blade, giving it strength. It had a narrow wood handle, flaring slightly at the middle and tapering at the ends and toward the guard. It was completely useless for skinning or any other task but one. Killing. Except for being forged of Damascus rather than stainless steel, it was an exact copy of the famed Fairburn-Sykes commando knife used in World War II.
He was suddenly aware that Zeke Bailey was watching him carefully from behind his wire-rimmed spectacles.
“What do you think?” he asked.
That one in the middle.”-Scott said. “I’ve never seen a knife like that before.”
Bailey took it out of the display case and handed it over to him. “Don’t know that I have either.” he said, in a neutral tone. He shrugged. “The idea just sorta came to me one day. George, he took one look at it and said he couldn’t see what use a knife like that would be. Said it would make a lousy skinner and thought it might break likely as not, but I made it pretty strong.”
“I don’t guess you’d use a knife like this for skinning.” said Scott. feeling the perfect balance of the blade.
“Though it might make a nice boot knife for a gambler.” Bailey said,” or somebody who might want a knife like that for serious business.”
“It looks serious, all right,” said Scott.
“It’s balanced so as you can throw it.” Bailey said, he pointed to a wood target mounted on the wall across the room. “Go ahead. Give it a try.”
Scott grabbed the knife by the blade, holding it not by its point, but so that his hand was along the side of it, fingers on the central rib. He threw it in a smooth, practiced motion. The knife struck the target dead center.
“Guess you are a good hand with a knife at that.” said Bailey.
Scott went over to the target and pulled the knife out “How much do you want for this?” he asked.
“Well, it’s a one-of-a-kind,” said Bailey. “Twenty dollars.”
“That’s a lot of money for a knife.” said Scott.
“It’s a lot of knife. And I’ve got a leather sheath goes with it.”
All right
.” said Scott “I’ll take it. What do you call a knife like this?”
“I figured I’d call it a Bailey fighting knife.” He shrugged. “Rezin Bowie made a knife up for his brother Jim and now everybody knows it as a Bowie knife. Maybe someday everyone will know that kind of knife as a Bailey. You never know.”
“You never know,” said Scott. “There might be a fair chance of that.”
Bailey showed no reaction to his use of the word “fair.” as in Fairburn. Scott paid for his purchases.
“Gunsmithing, knifemaking-you’re a talented man. Mr. Bailey.”
“Just tryin’ to make a livin’.” Bailey said. “And call me Zeke.”
“Where you from, Zeke?”
“Oh. here and there, I’ve traveled some. Grew up back East, on a horse farm in Pennsylvania. Ever been there?”
“Can’t say as I have,” Scott replied. “Never been back East. You been in Tombstone long?”
“Not too long.” Bailey replied. “But I kind of like it here. Lots of opportunities for a man in a boomtown like this. What brings you to Tombstone?”