David Wade Harris: A keeper of a vanishing Texas tradition

Key Takeaways:

• Direct lineage to a vanishing American craft: David Wade Harris represents the third and likely final generation in an unbroken 90-year tradition of Texas cattle-brand firearm engraving. His direct training under Weldon Bledsoe, who learned from the originator, Cole Agee, in the 1950s, makes him the only living engraver with an authentic transmission of techniques dating back to the 1930s. With fewer than 500 total authenticated pieces created across three generations, Harris’s work documents both exceptional craftsmanship and American Western heritage.
• Traditional methods in a modern world: Harris remains one of perhaps two engravers worldwide who hand-forge their own tools using 300-year-old techniques, working exclusively with hammer and chisel without power assistance. His four-step process, which utilizes beeswax, talcum powder, mental visualization, and a special chisel design passed down through Agee to Bledsoe, distinguishes his work from contemporary laser engraving and power-assisted methods. This absolute fidelity to historical process over efficiency creates pieces that are both functional art and living demonstrations of disappearing craftsmanship.
• Investment value tied to cultural preservation: Harris’s signed work currently commands over $ 4,000 at premier Western firearms auctions, with pricing reflecting accessibility rather than premium positioning compared to six-figure European masters. As the tradition’s current terminus and potential final practitioner, his authenticated pieces represent both historical documentation of Texas ranching heritage and appreciative investments. The succession question—whether his daughter Tiffany successfully continues the exact traditional methods—will significantly impact the historical importance and market value of the work produced during Harris’s active years.

Let’s get started…

There’s this guy in Texas. David Wade Harris. He’s 62, works alone in a shop in Jacksonville, and he might be the last person on earth doing what he does the way it’s supposed to be done.

I’m talking about cattle-brand engraving. If you’ve never heard of it, you’re not alone. It’s this distinctly Texan thing where someone takes historic ranch brands and engraves them all over firearms, usually single-action revolvers. Full coverage. Dense patterns. Brands from ranches that existed a hundred years ago, packed together on punch-dot backgrounds until the whole gun becomes this catalog of Western history.

Harris is probably one of two engravers worldwide who still make their own tools from scratch, the old way. We’re talking hammer, chisel, and methods that haven’t changed in 300 years. He learned from Weldon Bledsoe, who learned from Cole Agee, the guy who invented this whole style back in the late 1940s. Three generations. Harris is the third. He might be the last.

“My craft is the same today as it was a hundred years ago,” Harris says. “So I feel I have a chance to show others a piece of historical art.”

And honestly? That’s what makes this interesting. Not just the engraving itself, though that’s beautiful work. It’s the weight of being the final link in a chain that’s almost a century old.

How It All Started (Or: When a Mexican President Wanted Something Unique)

The genealogy here reads like some kind of spiritual succession. Cole Agee started it all. Born in Runge, Texas, in 1901, died in 1955. The story goes that in the late 1940s, Mexican President Miguel Aleman commissioned a unique Colt Single Action Army revolver. Agee’s wife had this idea. She suggested using actual Texas cattle brands from a booklet published for the 1936 Texas Centennial.

That was it. That’s what started everything.

Agee made maybe 15 to 20 cattle-brand guns before he died. They’re so rare that only four confirmed signed pieces exist today. If one shows up at auction, you better believe collectors pay attention.

Then there’s Weldon Bledsoe. Born in 1916, flew B-17s in World War II, completed 25 missions. Met Agee in Fort Worth around 1950. And here’s the thing about Agee that stands out: unlike many craftsmen who guard their techniques as trade secrets, Agee “readily shared his skills and special shortcuts.” That’s according to Harris, anyway.

Bledsoe learned the style. Mastered it. Over his career, he produced an estimated 300 to 400 cattle-brand guns. Every single one included his personal mark, the “2 Lazy 2 P” brand. He was fast, too. Could finish a full cattle-brand gun in about eight hours. Agee could do it in under six.

Not gonna lie, that’s impressive, considering it’s all done by hand.

The Shaking Hands That Never Missed

Harris remembers watching Bledsoe work near the end. By then, Bledsoe was older, and his hands would shake constantly. “He would hold his hammer in one hand and his chisel in the other,” Harris recalls. “As his tools approached the work, they would shake uncontrollably. Still, when they made contact with the workpiece, they were under absolute control.”

Bledsoe went blind before he died. Harris remembers running into him in a hospital waiting room. “He could only see out of one eye for about the last year that he engraved. I walked up and shook his hand. He said, ‘I know you, I recognize your voice, but I can’t see who you are.'”

Despite all that, Bledsoe kept his commitment to the craft. More importantly, he kept his commitment to finding someone who would carry it forward.

That someone was Harris.

But it almost didn’t happen. When Harris’s wife gifted him an engraved pistol by Bledsoe one Christmas in the 1980s, it sparked an obsession. Harris wanted to learn. But Bledsoe, then in his 60s, had grown skeptical. Previous apprentices had bailed on the tradition. They’d learned the basics, then moved on to easier techniques or more commercially popular work.

So Bledsoe tested Harris. Would he promise to keep this dying art alive exactly as taught? Or find another teacher?

Harris promised.

He became Bledsoe’s last apprentice. Started working full-time as an engraver in 1985. And here we are, decades later, with Harris still at his bench doing it the same way.

The Process (It’s Weirder Than You’d Think)

The four-step process sounds simple enough on paper. First, rub beeswax onto the metal surface. Second, dust talc or baby powder over the wax to create a white drawing surface. Third, sketch the design into the powder. Fourth, hammer and chisel to cut the pattern into steel.

But that’s like saying painting is just: get a canvas, get some paint, apply the paint to the canvas. The real work happens before any tool touches metal.

“After looking at an area over for a little while, a pattern just comes to mind or is visualized,” Harris explains. “Once I see the pattern in my mind, I really trace the image that I see there.”

This is what separates the masters from everyone else. You can’t just pick up a hammer and chisel and start whacking away. The design has to exist fully formed in your head first. Bledsoe taught him that. An engraver doesn’t randomly daub strokes any more than a painter does. You have to see it through to the end before you can make it real.

The physical execution relies on a special chisel design passed down through all three generations. Agee to Bledsoe to Harris. “I use many different types, sizes, and shapes of chisels,” Harris notes, “but about 90% of my work is done with the chisel that Weldon taught me to make, the same as Cole taught him to make.”

It’s the key to the whole thing, apparently.

Harris hand-forges these tools himself. Most contemporary engravers just buy manufactured tools or use power equipment. Harris uses neither. He’s one of two people worldwide who still do it the old way.

The results are unmistakable. His work features authentic historical Texas brands like the “101” and the “XIT” (a massive three-million-acre operation), plus hundreds of others from the 1880s to the 1920s, all densely arranged on those distinctive punch-dot backgrounds. The coverage is complete. Every inch gets used. The whole piece becomes this dense catalog of Western heritage.

Beyond cattle brands, Harris does traditional American scrollwork in the styles of 19th-century masters like L.D. Nimschke und Cuno Helfricht. Native American symbolism, too: thunderbirds, lodges, Zias. And historically accurate patterns that collectors prize.

The Work That’s Out There

Let’s talk about some actual pieces, because this stuff is documented.

The America Remembers Winchester 94 Series from 1992 is probably his biggest commercial recognition. Two hundred rifles, signed and numbered, each featuring famous cattle brands. That’s consistency across a large production run. It’s also industry validation that Harris was Bledsoe’s legitimate successor.

He’s currently working on something similar: 100 Henry rifles in progress.

A 1901 Colt SAA with extensive Native American symbolism sold at Brian Lebel’s Old West Auction in January 2019. This piece had thunderbirds, clouds, lodges, Zias, animals, arrows, all in tight scrollwork with a 99% gold wash finish and carved ivory grips depicting an Indian chief. It shows his range. He’s not just about cattle brands.

An 1884 Colt SAA Black Powder features traditional floral scrollwork on punch-dot backgrounds. Fan motifs on the recoil shield, loading gate, and backstrap. According to collector observations, Harris’s scrollwork and Bledsoe’s “can be difficult to differentiate.” That’s basically the ultimate compliment in a tradition that values continuity over innovation.

There’s a 1878 Colt Frontier Six-Shooter that Harris kept in his personal collection for over 20 years. All-matching antique. Rarest Texas brands, including Stephen F. Austin’s Spanish brand. The coveted acid-etched “Colt Frontier Six-Shooter” panel intact. Harris held onto this piece for two decades before offering it for sale. That tells you something about the standard he sets for exceptional work.

An 1883 Colt SAA “Peacemaker” in .44-40 showed up at a French auction house, Paul Bert Serpette. Foliage scrolls, numbers, hearts, stylized letters on circled backgrounds, antler pad grips, unusual engraved formulas. The fact that his work appears in European markets says something. His pieces reach from Texas to Japan, Alaska to France.

Auction results? His gold-finished 1912 Colt SAA sold for $4,130 at Brian Lebel’s Old West Auction in June 2019. That’s solid pricing, not spectacular, but remember: he’s a living engraver. Deceased masters’ work typically commands premiums. As the tradition becomes rarer and Harris eventually retires or passes, his authenticated pieces will likely appreciate significantly. That’s already happened with Agee’s work (extremely rare and valuable) and Bledsoe’s growing collectibility.

The Business Side (Or: How Much Does History Cost?)

Harris works by appointment only. Old-school, personal commission work. Pricing starts at $1,495 and goes up from there. It’s determined by detail density, background complexity, and coverage percentage, not by whether it’s stainless or blued steel.

Harris describes these rates as “very reasonable.” And honestly, compared to European masters who command $100,000 or more for elaborate shotgun engraving, or even mid-tier American engravers charging significantly more, his pricing is accessible. He’s not positioning himself as a premium luxury brand. He’s making this stuff available to people who care about it.

For luxury watch engraving (yeah, he does that too now), prices range from $1,000 to $20,000 depending on coverage and complexity. The process involves deep relief engraving on hardened stainless steel. He has to constantly sharpen carbide gravers. Often exceeds 100 hours of handwork per piece. Black epoxy resin gets baked into backgrounds at 122 degrees for contrast and durability.

Wait times? He doesn’t publish those. That’s common with high-demand custom engravers. They don’t like committing to specific timelines or revealing how deep their backlog runs. Given that Harris works entirely by hand, uses no assistants (beyond teaching his daughter), and has an international clientele, you should probably expect substantial lead times.

The absence of specific wait time information online probably reflects both the private nature of high-end commission work and his desire to evaluate each project individually before committing to schedules.

Every piece is original. Hand-signed “DW Harris” or “DWHARRIS,” typically on the butt. Comes with an authentication letter that increases collectability and future provenance.

What People Say (Or Don’t Say, Actually)

Here’s something interesting: direct client testimonials about Harris’s firearm engraving are surprisingly scarce in public forums. That’s pretty common with high-end custom gun work, though. Clients typically connect through personal networks, word-of-mouth referrals, and private dealer recommendations. Not exactly the Yelp review crowd, you know?

On the Colt Forum, one collector’s inquiry reveals both interest and hesitation: “Anyone here have a gun Mr. Harris has engraved that is not a cattle brand? I’m not a fan of cattle brands in general, regardless of who created them. The majority of the photos on Harris’s website are terrible. But from what I can find of his work in decent photos, I like it a lot.”

That comment highlights two things. One, Harris’s website photography doesn’t showcase his craftsmanship well. That’s a common problem with artisan craftspeople who prioritize work over marketing. Two, his non-cattle-brand engraving also commands respect among discerning collectors.

Auction house descriptions consistently praise his work: “excellently executed,” “masterfully embellished,” “museum-quality.” But let’s be real, those terms probably represent promotional copy more than independent client assessments. His pieces get described as “documented” and “authenticated,” noting his direct lineage to Cole Agee through Weldon Bledsoe’s teaching.

Watch engraving customers provide more detailed feedback. One says: “Mr Harris is a Master Engraver, and it shows in the quality of his work and his well-known reputation. He did a custom job on my Hamilton Khaki King II, blacked it in, and custom-engraved my name on the clasp. It’s a Master Piece on my wrist.”

Another: “I’ve purchased three watches and highly recommend them. The craftsmanship is unparalleled.”

These are about watches, not firearms, but they show consistency across different applications of his core skills.

The Canadian Gun Nutz forum has an enthusiastic collector sharing photos of an 1889 Colt SAA in .41 LC, “completely restored and engraved by master engraver David Wade Harris of Jacksonville, TX in the 1980s,” in the Texas Cattle Brand motif, with buffalo bone grips. The post reflects satisfaction and pride of ownership, though it doesn’t detail the commission process.

America Remembers’ 1992 commission of 200 Winchester 94 rifles? That’s maybe the strongest institutional endorsement. A company specializing in commemorative firearms trusted Harris with a large-scale series that demanded consistency, adherence to deadlines, and artistic excellence across every piece. They wouldn’t have done that without confidence in both his technical abilities and business reliability.

The general collector sentiment positions Harris as a legitimate continuation of the Agee-Bledsoe tradition rather than an imitator. Phrases like “carries on the cattle brand style that Cole Agee made famous” appear consistently. His work gets sought by serious Western Americana collectors, Texas Rangers, law enforcement agencies, and international buyers. That suggests confidence in both authenticity and investment value.

Awards and Recognition (Or Lack Thereof, Kinda)

Unlike some contemporary engravers who accumulate FEGA (Firearms Engravers Guild of America) Master Engraver designations, “Gun of the Year” awards, or competitive exhibition wins, Harris’s professional recognition stems mainly from historical legitimacy and commercial validation rather than organizational honors.

No confirmed FEGA membership or Master Engraver designation appears in available documentation. But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Many legitimate master engravers work independently of professional organizations, particularly those in specialized regional traditions like cattle-brand engraving.

The 1992 America Remembers commission is his most significant documented recognition. Being selected to engrave 200 Winchester Model 94 rifles in “The American Cowboy Tribute” series validated his technical consistency, artistic vision, and ability to maintain quality across large production runs while honoring the tradition.

Media recognition includes a 2018 American Rifleman article by Rick Hacker, which identifies Harris as carrying on “the cattle brand style that Cole Agee made famous.” SoulVision Magazine profiled him as a “Historical Artisan.” Multiple auction houses consistently describe him as a “master engraver” with authentic lineage.

Auction presence itself is recognition, honestly. Harris’s work appears regularly at premier Western firearms auctions: Brian Lebel’s Cody Old West Auction, Santa Fe events, Rock Island Auction Company sales, and international venues. These auction houses carefully vet engravers before featuring their work. Repeated inclusion signals market confidence and collector demand.

But here’s the thing: his most important recognition came from Weldon Bledsoe’s choice. After previous apprentices failed to maintain the tradition, Bledsoe selected Harris as his final student. He trusted Harris to preserve nearly a century of accumulated knowledge.

In craft traditions that value lineage and direct transmission, this selection carries more weight than any organizational award. Harris was entrusted with a cultural legacy, not merely taught a technical skill.

The contemporary engraving field gives prizes for innovation, elaborate gold inlay, photorealistic bulino work, and technical virtuosity. Harris pursues none of these. His “award” is being the last living repository of an American tradition that would otherwise have died with Bledsoe.

For collectors of Western Americana and Texas heritage, this cultural role matters more than competition trophies.

Where Harris Fits in Today’s World

The world of firearm engraving in 2025 divides pretty sharply. You’ve got mass-market laser engraving dominating commercial production. European-trained masters commanding premium prices for elaborate bulino and relief work. American scroll engravers maintain classical styles. And then specialist traditionalists like Harris, who preserve regional historical styles.

Ken Hunt, known as “the godfather of gun engraving,” created 2,666 guns over 60 years before retiring in 2011. Revolutionized the field with elaborate gold-inlay techniques. Firmo Fracassi is considered the world’s finest bulino engraver, creating photorealistic images through millions of hand-punched dots. G. Stoegner, now retired, was Krieghoff’s top engraver with seven “Guns of the Year” awards and work commanding six-figure prices.

These represent the field’s pinnacle in terms of technical complexity and market value.

Contemporary American masters include Michael Gouse (factory engraver for High Standard and Ballard), Geoffroy Gournet (European-trained, former sole Parker Reproduction engraver who has worked without power tools for 15 years), Rex Pedersen (FEGA Master Engraver and teacher), and Jim Downing (nearly 50 years specializing in 1911s and Old West guns).

Kelly Laster emerges as maybe Harris’s closest contemporary peer. Also practices cattle-brand engraving, described as executing the style “excellently” as a “wonderful tribute to Cole Agee.” But even Laster’s work doesn’t carry the direct Agee-Bledsoe-Harris lineage that gives historical authentication to Harris’s claims as the tradition’s legitimate inheritor.

Market trends indicate that the engraving services industry is projected to reach $432.32 million by 2030, up from $273.47 million in 2024. But this growth is driven mostly by laser engraving ($8 to $300 per firearm), corporate orders, and mass customization. Not the hand-engraved collector market where Harris operates.

Hand engraving by recognized masters is a small, specialized segment. Prices start at $800 to $1,500 for basic coverage. Can exceed $100,000 for elaborate presentation-grade pieces by top names.

Harris’s unique market position becomes clear when you consider this: while European masters pursue technical virtuosity, American scroll engravers maintain classical elegance, and laser services dominate commercial production, Harris occupies the niche of cultural preservation.

He’s not competing to be the most elaborate engraver or the most technically innovative. His value lies in being the authentic, verifiable continuation of a nearly century-old American Western tradition that has produced fewer than 500 total pieces (15 to 20 by Agee, 300 to 400 by Bledsoe, an unknown number by Harris) across three generations.

For collectors of Western Americana, Texas heritage, and historical firearms, this authenticity matters enormously. Harris’s work isn’t simply cattle-brand style. It’s the actual cattle-brand tradition, transmitted directly through unbroken mentorship from its originator.

As the only engraver maintaining this specific lineage while working exclusively with hand-forged tools and 300-year-old techniques, Harris represents both artist and living museum.

Why Cattle-Brand Engraving Actually Matters

Cattle-brand engraving goes beyond decoration. It’s historical documentation.

Each piece features authentic brands from actual Texas ranches operating during the 1880s to 1920s open-range era. The “101” (one of the most famous). The “XIT” (Capitol Syndicate Ranch covering three million acres). The “Lazy S.” “Bar None.” “Circle T.” Hundreds of others recorded in the “Century of Texas Cattlebrands” booklet published for the 1936 Texas Centennial, the same source Cole Agee used for his first commission.

These brands represent more than ownership marks. They embody Texas’s ranching heritage. The state’s transformation from frontier to agricultural powerhouse. The brutal economics of open-range cattle drives. The practical semiotics of a literacy-independent identification system.

Brands get read top to bottom, left to right, with specialized vocabulary. “Lazy” indicates a sideways letter. “Bar” means a horizontal line. “Circle” surrounds the letter. “Rocking” sits on a curved arc. “Flying” has wings. “Running” shows legs. Every numeral and letter can be configured into brand patterns, creating a visual language unique to American ranching culture.

The full-coverage style that Agee originated and Harris maintains transforms entire firearms into dense catalogs of this heritage. Unlike portrait engraving or scrollwork, which provide decorative enhancement, cattle-brand pieces serve as functional historical archives. They preserve brands that often outlast the ranches themselves.

Many brands Harris engraves represent defunct operations. Records scattered or destroyed. His work becomes one of the few remaining documents of this kind.

The punch-dot backgrounds aren’t just aesthetic choices. They’re technical requirements that make individual brands legible against surrounding complexity. The dots create texture that catches light differently than cut lines, providing visual separation between overlapping designs. This background treatment has been consistent across all three generations. It’s a signature of authentic tradition versus imitative work.

For collectors, cattle-brand pieces offer multiple investment rationales. Historical significance (preserving Western heritage). Artistic merit (hand-engraved master craftsmanship). Scarcity (fewer than 500 authentic pieces exist across three generations). Appreciation potential (as practitioners die and traditions end, their work gains value).

An original Cole Agee cattle-brand Colt is one of 15 to 20 pieces ever created. Commands substantial prices when it appears at auction.

Harris’s work, as the tradition’s current terminus, positions similarly for future appreciation. Especially given that he’s likely the final practitioner.

Unless his daughter successfully continues the lineage.

The Big Question: Can This Survive Another Generation?

Harris’s daughter, Tiffany Jordan Harris, works as his apprentice now. Learning the hand-forging of tools. The beeswax-and-talc technique. The mental visualization that separates master engravers from competent technicians. Her website suggests active engagement. Harris describes her as “doing a fantastic job.”

This fourth-generation possibility is the tradition’s best hope for survival.

Cole Agee died in 1955 without a broad apprenticeship program. Weldon Bledsoe taught multiple students over his career but became disillusioned when they abandoned the cattle-brand style for more commercially popular work or easier techniques. Harris alone maintained the promise to preserve the tradition exactly as taught.

Now 62, Harris faces the same succession challenge that concerned Bledsoe. Will his apprentice maintain pure traditional methods? Or will market pressures and technical temptations lead to modifications and dilutions?

The challenges are substantial.

Hand-forging tools requires metallurgical knowledge increasingly rare in an age of manufactured gravers. Working entirely by hand with hammer and chisel, without power assistance, demands physical stamina and pain tolerance that diminish with age. The mental visualization Harris describes, where complete patterns materialize in his mind before he touches metal, represents a cognitive skill developed over decades. Difficult to transmit through instruction alone.

Most significantly, the economic realities. Spending 40-plus hours hand-engraving a single firearm for $1,500 to $2,000 gets undercut by laser engraving’s $300 price point and two-hour completion time.

But there are reasons for optimism.

Tiffany’s apprenticeship while her father remains active and capable provides ideal transmission conditions. Bledsoe taught Harris in the 1960s to 70s when his eyesight was failing and his hands were shaking. The growing collector market for authentic traditional work creates economic incentives absent in previous generations. The documented scarcity of cattle-brand pieces (fewer than 500 total across nearly a century) positions authenticated examples as increasingly valuable investments.

And the cultural appetite for heritage crafts, artisan methods, “slow” art production has expanded significantly in recent years. That potentially provides market support for traditional engravers that didn’t exist for Agee or Bledsoe.

If Tiffany successfully maintains the tradition of hand-forging the same chisel design Cole Agee created, using the beeswax-and-talc technique, working in solitude with hammer and chisel, engraving authentic historical Texas cattle brands on punch-dot backgrounds? She’ll represent a nearly 100-year unbroken lineage in American craft tradition.

If she doesn’t, or if she modifies methods for efficiency or incorporates modern tools, the authentic cattle-brand tradition effectively ends with David Wade Harris.

Either outcome will significantly impact the value and historical importance of Harris’s current work. Pieces produced in the 2020s could be the final examples of an extinct art form. Or the penultimate generation in a continuing legacy.

The Weight of Being Last

David Wade Harris didn’t set out to become a cultural preservationist. He wanted to learn engraving after his wife gave him that Christmas gift in the 1980s. But by accepting Bledsoe’s demand to keep the tradition alive exactly as taught, Harris assumed a responsibility that extends beyond personal artistic expression.

This is cultural stewardship.

At his workbench in Jacksonville, Texas, using tools he forged himself according to designs passed from Cole Agee through Weldon Bledsoe, Harris performs an act of temporal connection. The hammer strikes that create cattle-brand patterns on Colt Single Actions today employ the same physical motions, the same metal-working principles, the same aesthetic judgments that Agee used in the late 1940s.

This isn’t reproduction. It’s not homage. It’s the actual unbroken practice of a specific craft tradition across three generations and nearly 80 years.

For firearms collectors, Harris’s work offers multiple value propositions. Investment potential as his authenticated pieces become increasingly scarce. Historical significance as documentation of Texas ranching heritage. Artistic merit as hand-engraved masterworks. And the romantic appeal of owning pieces created using techniques that will likely die with Harris’s retirement or passing.

Whether Tiffany successfully continues into a fourth generation remains uncertain. That makes current acquisitions potentially the final opportunity to own authentically traditional cattle-brand engraving.

The broader significance extends beyond collecting, though.

In an era when automation and digital replication dominate production, Harris’s commitment to handwork is increasingly rare. Absolute fidelity to historical processes over efficiency, convenience, or profit maximization. He could learn laser engraving and quintuple his output. Could hire assistants and delegate basic cutting work. Could standardize designs and create templates.

He does none of these.

Instead, he sits alone at his bench. Visualizing patterns in his mind. Sketching them in talcum powder on beeswax. Then, cutting them into steel with a hammer and a chisel, exactly as Weldon Bledsoe showed him. Exactly as Cole Agee showed Bledsoe. Precisely as it must be done to remain faithful to the tradition.

This is the weight of being last: every compromise risks becoming the precedent that erodes what previous generations preserved. Every shortcut suggests to the next generation that modification is acceptable. Every deviation from the pure traditional method moves the craft one step further from its origins.

Harris understands this.

“I try to keep the tradition alive that Weldon taught me,” he says. “I still do it all by hand with a hammer and chisel.”

For collectors who value Western heritage, historical authenticity, and hand-crafted artistry, David Wade Harris of

Frequently Asked Questions