"It's simple. It looks like the TacRail company is going to war. And we're getting the littlest pig's share when it comes to weapons. What I want to do is to fill the wagon with anything that will shoot, and haul it back for the boys and girls. Think of it as a late Christmas present."
"Okay. We'll write it off against the debt the factory owes you and save you some money. I take it this is not official."
"No, it's not official, although eventually I'll finagle some kind of reimbursement. But I'll pay cash money. Gold, in fact." Anse grinned. "You can handle Krugerrands, can't you?"
Pat chuckled. "Hell, yes. They'd be a lot better than most of the coins floating around."
They'd finished eating. Pat pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. "Let's go down to Ruben's shop and see what he has in stock. I'll introduce the two of you and make sure he gives you a discount."
"It's convenient that his shop is so close to the factory," Anse commented as the two walked along.
"Ruben found the location for the factory, so it's not surprising it's close to his shop. It works out fine. The gunmaking companies in Suhl are competitors, I suppose, technically speaking. But it's really more of a cooperative relationship, in the real world. Kinda like, back home, a bunch of furniture stores would set up right next to each other. Whatever sales one of them might lose to a guy next door, they all gained from the fact that, bunched up like that, they drew a lot more customers to begin with."
He pulled up before a sign and pointed at it. "Here we are. You should notice that Ruben changed his sign. Before, it was two crossed wheel-lock pistols. Now look at it."
Anse looked up. The sign on the gunshop featured two crossed flintlock pistols, just like those that were the output of U.S. WaffenFabrik.
Anse liked the shop, the minute he walked through the door. Its walls were covered with all kinds of weapons. Wheel locks, the old Dutch-style flintlocks and the modern flintlocks introduced by Pat were in the places of pride, but there were guns of every description on the walls. The floor was crowded with racks that were also loaded with guns. Those spaces in the floor racks that did not have firearms were filled with crossbows, spears or swords. And in between the guns on the walls there were accoutrements, powder flasks, bullet pouches and tools.
It was so much like his favorite gunshop back in West Virginia, that Anse felt almost at home. If you added a couple of stuffed deer heads and a girly calendar this place would be just like Jimmy's Gun and Pawn.
"Herr Blumroder, come on out!" Pat called, waving the sales clerk aside. "I want you to meet Anse Hatfield. I know I told you about him."
When Blumroder came out of the back of the shop Anse saw a tall man somewhere in his late fifties, slightly older than himself. Blumroder had the confident air of a successful businessman. "Ah, Herr Hatfield! I have wanted to meet you. Patrick has said so much about you."
His English was fluent, and less heavily accented than Anse would have expected.
"And he has written a lot about you, sir. I'm glad he had your good advice to help him set up here in Suhl."
"Nonsense. Patrick is a wise young man. My major contribution was to make it easier for him to meet people. As you Americans say, I introduced him around."
"And one of those people must be your tailor. Pat was always in jeans and a sweat shirt, before. Now I find him in the latest styles."
Blumroder smiled. "Of course. A successful man must look successful, or no one will take him seriously. But I doubt you are here to ask for my advice on clothing. What can I do for you, Herr Hatfield?"
"Herr Blumroder, I need all the flintlock rifles and smooth bores in your shop and probably most of the pistols."
Before Ruben could react. Pat said: "He's paying in gold, Ruben, and I promised him a discount. What he can't cover right now we can write off against the debt the company owes him. Besides, it's good business. With a major war looking to be in the works, Anse's railroad outfit is bound to expand. And even after the war, the railroads will keep going. If we get in on the ground floor now, we'll be sitting pretty."
Blumroder considered Anse carefully. "Railroads, ha? When you have time later, Herr Hatfield, I would appreciate a detailed explanation of how these things are constructed and operate. From what I've heard from Patrick, it strikes me that there might be a profitable sideline for us there. Not making rails, of course. That's the sort of heavy iron work we don't do. But if those machines are as complicated as they sound . . ."