Winfield M1873C
WINFIELD M1873C. (See also, RIFLE, WINFIELD REPEATING ARMS COMPANY) The Winfield rifle s namesake, Oliver Winfield, began his career as a clothing manufacturer, moving into the arms business, at first, as an investor in the Lava Repeating Arms Company. Lava's rifles were technologically advanced, but performed poorly because of a badly designed cartridge. An improved cartridge - brass-cased .44 caliber rimfire - was the company's first big step toward success. Winfield eventually took over ownership of the company, changing its name to Winfield Repeating Arms Company in 1866. Though most of the firearms that would make the company a success were designed by engineer Henry Tyler, the most iconic repeating rifles of the time would bear the Winfield name. The company became well known for its high-quality arms and sold its rifles to both American hunters and pioneers, and armies around the world.
The Winfield M1873 was one of the most iconic rifles manufactured by the Winfield Repeating Arms Company, and the Winfield M1873C is a slightly smaller version of that first big success, measuring four inches shorter than the original model. Its lighter weight makes it easier to handle and store, though otherwise the design does not differ from the M1873.
Unpublished manuscript, "Bad As They Seem"
Author: Hayden Collins
Undated
Bleached paper, typewritten, 8.5x11 in
-6-
They bathed in gold; they bathed in blood. By day they worked on horseshoes, pots, and pans, and once the smith was closed, they chose their weapons and headed out into the swamps. They were silent, and ruthless: a perfect team of two, able to communicate without speaking, and they killed almost as many hunters as they did creatures, clearing the field of every kind of evil.
Lynch opened up a world of connections. Superintendents, government men, captains - men who the day before wouldn't have given them the time of day. Now, they were eager to meet the infamous twins. Dispatch them. Pay them, on their return, handsomely. This society of hunters, it seemed, was more a loose band of greedy ruffians than the tightly knit society Lynch had described, "led"by the self-important and power-hungry. The twins reputation spread, and as it did their own heads became a much-sought bounty. They each slept with a Winfield beside their bed, now
It was a Sunday when they found the woman's body, nailed to a tree beside a dilapidated cabin, rotting, and missing the right leg
Fin nodded towards it, the nod an acknowledgment and a question. Monster or human he nod asked.
Jos shrugged. The answer was monster either way. The woman's corpse - pile of rotting flesh, marshy vessel for flies and maggots - had obviously been tortured, used for target practice, and my God, had she still been alive when she had been nailed to the tree? Fin shook her head and pointed toward the door, which hung open. Inside they found a man - dirty and covered in weeping red boils - asleep on a cot. They both raised their rifles and waited. They would learn his victim's name before he died. But as Fin leaned down to shake him awake, a meathead broke through the front door, spraying leeches in every direction from the open sore of its neck.
Unpublished manuscript, "Bad As They Seem"
Author: Hayden Collins
Undated
Bleached paper, typewritten, 8.5x11 in
-7-
Salter awoke to a floor awash with leeches, a Meathead stumbling against the wall and then the small table, knocking papers and pistols to the floor. He awoke to two strangers, two girls, standing beside the fireplace, guns raised, weapons strapped at every possible point across their bodies. One signaled to the other, who took something out of a pouch tied to her belt and threw it through the paper tacked to the window. Outside a cacophonous racket began and the creature began to throw itself against the far wall with renewed force
One slung her rifle onto her back, and took up a sledgehammer that she wielded with a strength unseemly for a woman, let alone a girl. Who were these intruders?
She swung the hammer through the air and into the spine - assuming it had one - of the creature. The sound it made, that wet thud - a noise that every being of flesh and bone must loathe to hear - echoed in his ears, though he was glad to see the thing floundering on the floor where it heaved and writhed. The girl struck down a second time with the added force of gravity, crushing its leg, but she had not accounted for the leeches, which had, in the meantime, found their way to her feet. She gasped and screamed as their sickening tendrilled suckers found purchase on her flesh, and they began to feed.
