Winfield 1887 Terminus
WINFIELD 1887 TERMINUS. (See also: WINFIELD, SHOTGUNS). Designed by notable gun designer John Moses Crown, for the Winfield Arm's company. Crown himself had about the viability of a repeating action for the shotgun, however it was specifically requested for brand recognizability - all the other firearms in the Winfield line were repeaters. Nevertheless, the 1887 Terminus proved extremely popular, and became a staple of the line ever since
Interviewee: William Carter
Topic: Local folklores
Single sheets. Typewritten transcription. 8 x 11 in.
3/5
Some said the cat was a cougar, driven to starvation. Others said a tiger, escaped from a circus, taking revenge for its years of torment. Incidentally, that's why I refuse shows with predators myself. Just one gets loose, your name is dragged through the muck.
For twelve days, Ethyl and Jana stalked the Monongahela forest trying to track the beast down. Wherever they went, they came across its prey. What was left was unrecognizable. Blood-matted fur and mud. Splayed flesh and bark. Molars, canines, and splinters of bone.
On the thirteenth day, they returned to Marlinton empty-handed. First, an old friend greeted them. Jane, from the show, had arrived to help. From a few days prior, a telegram from Mr. Winfield himself expressing his impatience. But there was more shocking news yet: the son of the man killed had now gone missing. Red Winters, just six years old.
A posse was formed, half a dozen or so. When they reached the Sewell tree, Jane picked up a trail. She followed it deep into the hills where they came to a cave. A bedraggled cougar sat at the opening, gnawing on a bone. Strewn around were little Red's clothes.
The posse began shooting at the cougar, but their shots missed the mark. Jane grazed its haunch as it leapt at the rocks, fleeing. But it was Ethyl and Jana who killed it, two shots tight together, twin holes in the cougar's chest.
Winfield's sales went through the roof, and Mr. Winfield was delighted, offering them lifetime contracts to promote his firearms. The only remains they found of Red were his forearm, no one had the guts cut open the belly of the beast. Nevertheless, they put them to rest. His mother, having lost a husband and a son, would never be the same. But it seemed Marlinton was free of its beast.
Jane, Ethyl, and Jana rejoined the show, and we set on round the country. Things weren't right between the three of them. They suspected Jane had tried to upstage them - she was notorious for that - but the truth was something else,
Interviewee: William Carter
Topic: Local folklores
Single sheets. Typewritten transcription. 8 x 11 in.
4/5
Eleven years later another body turned up in the Sewell Tree. The wounds the same as before. The face was mauled beyond recognition, but it was clear he was a very young man. Most disturbingly, the body was missing a forearm, the wound long healed over. The word went around that it was young Red, back from the dead, and dead again.
Word reached us. Ethyl and Jana immediately took leave from the show, to go to Marlinton. Unbeknownst to them, Jane left a day later. Mr. Winfield somehow caught wind of all this. Waiting for Ethyl and Jana in Marlinton was a journalist to write the story. With him, a pair of their newest model repeaters, the Winfield 1887 Terminus shotgun. The Widow Winters had withdrawn, he said, unavailable for interview.
Ethyl and Jana again set off on the hunt. As they roamed, they discussed the possibility of whether or not it was really Red, whether it would have been possible for him to live this long in the woods, if the cougar they killed
The area around the Sewell tree was heavily trod. No chance of finding tracks. The body itself had been removed, buried unmarked a few plots down from Red Winters own. In the hollow of the tree was a rusty pile of trinkets, gifts left for old man Sewell. At a loss, Jana sifted through it, and one item caught their eye. A bit of trash really: a rusty, small, iron statue of me, William Carter. A show souvenir.
What struck them as odd was that this was newer type, only sold that year, 1887.
Meanwhile, my show was down three of its biggest stars, and I had bills to pay. I made the hard choice to pawn some items, charitably donated by my friends who had left me in a lurch. Amongst Jane's things I found a half- burnt pile of letters, all written in the same scratchy hand. The cindered scraps were signed by one Nika Felis But there was another letter, dated a couple weeks prior, simply stating Red was here. Now, this may be anticlimactic, but these names meant nothing to me at the time, so I went on with my business.
