Nagant M1895 Precision Deadeye

NAGANT M1895 PRECISION DEADEYE. (See also, NAGANT M1895). While unconventional, the Deadeye variant of the Nagant was a conversion with an attached telescopic scope. A rear mounted stock increases the stability of firing at range. One challenge of such an attachment is maintaining accuracy over distance with a heavy trigger pull. The degree of difference in experience becomes most pronounced in such a case. Effectively accommodating this, and achieving a smooth pull, offers a great advantage, making the Nagant a capable range weapon, though still compact. Therefore, it is for the disciplined shooter to utilize one in accordance with an unsteady weapon such as the one in question.

Letter to Frank Chambers
Author: Russell "Snakeskin "Chambers
Single loose sheet, 8.5 x 11 in.
4/9

Pa,

Have you been receiving my letters? I haven't heard back. We took recruits to replace Pellella and Billy. They were dead soon after. The Butcher ain't a man at all. Hounds prowl the roads in packs. Swarms of locust descend from the skies and La Llorona cries at the moon.

Hardin had been getting darker in his moods. Huff turned out to be no friend at all. I shot dead a would-be assassin on the steps of our station. An old deputy. We found a letter on the body, said it was the work of Huff, and he burned the letter before I had a chance to read it. He said things have been different. Since Lynch.

By way of congratulation, so I thought, Hardin gave me his badge, and bought me a new scope, as would fit my revolver. Said I was doing a different kind of Hunt, from now on. We scouted out an old barn, overlooking a field to the east of the grounds. I was to pick off the wandering, should they stray toward the town.

I took 12 the first night. 14 the second. The nights that came after, I stopped keeping track. Just pick off the strays as they come across the field. It's been something like a month now.

I'm worried I've done something bad to warrant guard duty. Something to take his anger. Each dawn, I tip the bodies into an open pit. The Bear stays sometimes. One of the dead men broke our boundary. He laid into him with his brass knuckles, glinting in bright full moon as he pummeled the man dead again

He's took a wound though, taking this letter to town, so I don't know it'll reach you. Write to address on other side.

Yours,
Russell