Guns of Seneca 6 (Chamber 1 of the Guns of Seneca 6 Saga)

by Bernard Schaffer

  When the sky darkened, candles were passed around to the people and their lights drew the customers out of the Proud Lady to come and see what was going on. Anna listened to people giving excited explanations, and leaned close to Claire to say, “What a bunch of gossip-hungry wretches too cowardly to go with them, but they’ll stand here all night waiting to see some bloodshed.”

  A burst of automatic gunfire echoed from Coramide Canyon, and then another right behind it. As soon as the shooting stopped, one of the men said, “That’s it. They’re done for. Jem and Bart and Halladay are dead! Find every wagon you can and evacuate the town!”

  Mothers scooped up their children and ran down Pioneer Way as men grabbed their wives by the arm and started dragging them away from the front gate.

  Claire Miller picked up the shotgun from her husband’s lap and fired it into the air.

  Everyone stopped and turned to look at her standing there with the gun held high and smoke pouring out of the barrel. She lowered the gun and jacked the spent casing out and chambered another shell. Claire’s face was still swollen and the salve on her bruises shined brightly in the candle’s glare. “Marshal McParlan was the first one digging your sorry asses out of the rubble when the bomb went off, and then he gave himself over to his enemies to try and save a town full of people who didn’t lift a finger when the time came to go rescue him. Royce Halladay ain’t seen the inside of Seneca 6 since I was six years old, but he went. Bart Masters never got into a fight since the day I was born, but he went too.”

  People in the crowd said nothing and did not move except for the few that looked at the ground and scratched the back of their heads. “So now, if those brave men are dead, who is left to defend this place and these people?” She showed them the gun and said, “This gun belonged to Sheriff Sam Clayton, my daddy, the last lawman we ever had in this sorry excuse for a town. If he were here tonight you can bet your sweet ass he’d use it on the first son of a bitch who came through that gate to do us harm. Since he ain’t, I’ll do it for him. It’s time somebody made a stand.”

  Janet Walker pointed behind Claire and screamed in panic.

  “Not funny, Janet!” Claire barked, then as she turned to look, she saw a half-naked Beothuk warrior sitting on a destrier at the gate’s entrance. Haienwa’tha was smeared with war paint across his face and torso, and he did not move when Claire lifted the gun at him and said, “Holy shit!”

  “Hoka hey,” Haienwa’tha said. He raised his empty hands in the air and said, “Hoka Hey! El-halcon kola owa sich!”

  “Give me that gun, Claire,” someone shouted. “Shoot him!”

  “Shut your mouth, goddamn it,” Claire shouted back, never taking her eyes off of Haienwa’tha. “You stay right there, boy, or I will blow a hole through you. Now, what the hell are you trying to say?”

  “El-halcon.” Haienwa’tha formed his hands into a pair of guns and made firing noises, saying, “Pow pow.” Claire shook her head in confusion and Haienwa’tha sighed in exasperation. He struggled with himself for a moment before finally saying, “El-halcon, friend. Haienwa’tha, friend. Friends hurt. Need medicine.”

  “Medicine?” Anna said.

  Haienwa’tha nodded quickly, “Medicine, yes. For friend.”

  “I have medicine!” Anna said, holding up her medical bag. She ran past Claire toward his destrier and said, “Take me to them.”

  Haienwa’tha looked at the crowd of angry-looking people and at Claire’s gun, then nodded and held out his hand to her.

  “Get away from him, Anna,” Claire said. “It ain’t safe!”

  Anna looked back at her and said, “This is me making a stand, Claire.”

  Haienwa’tha grabbed Anna’s hand and yanked her up onto the back of his destrier, and with a kick in the animal’s side, they were gone.

  ***

  McParlan’s wrist had torn free of its bolt and was dangling at this side. Jem and Bart lifted the heavy beams out of the ground and lowered them so that the Marshal was lying flat. Bart went to look for the drill, and Jem tried to rouse McParlan. There was no response.

  Masters came back with the drill and said, “Let’s get him off that thing.” They worked quickly to unscrew the bolts from McParlan’s wrist and ankles. Once they had him freed, they lifted the old man off of the cross and carried him over to the soft dirt. “We need water,” Jem said. He looked up and saw Bug nearby, leaning over the body of his dead destrier. The boy rubbed his hands over the creature’s soft black fur and squeezed his eyes shut to keep tears from spilling out of them.

  “Bug!” Jem shouted. “Hey! Quit that. I need you.” The boy wiped his face and looked at Jem. Jem pointed into the ship and said, “Go in there and find me water. Understand?” He tipped his hand to his mouth like he drinking Bug jumped to his feet and took off running.

  Mahpiya arrived at the base of the trail and starting digging in his bag, sifting through the powders and roots inside of it. The medicine man’s expression was grave as he kneeled beside McParlan and muttered prayers, waving his hands over the Marshal’s face and heart.

  Bug returned with a bottle and Jem poured a small amount of water against McParlan’s cracked lips. The old man stirred slightly.

  Mahpiya lifted McParlan’s wrist and inspected the hole. He gave a sharp command to Bug, who took off running again. Mahpiya aimed a crooked finger at Jem’s gun and held out his hand for it. Jem put his hand over his weapon and said, “Hell no. We’ll wait and see what Anna says.”

  Osceola squeezed Jem’s shoulder and nodded.

  Jem reluctantly removed one of his Defeaters and handed it to Mahpiya. “Don’t shoot him. I mean it. He’s old and ugly and meaner than a grizzly bear, but I like the old coot.”

  Mahpiya opened the gun and removed a bullet from the cylinder. He drew a long, curved knife from his belt and stuck the tip into the bullet’s casing, prying until the bullet snapped open. He held the casing over McParlan’s wrist and tapped until a small amount of gunpowder sprinkled into the wound there. Mahpiya did the same over the other injuries and waved for the men to stand back.

  Bug raced toward them with a flaming torch of wagon wood. Its bright light flickered and left a long trail of smoke that spiraled up toward the high rock walls above. Mahpiya took the torch and waited for Bug to go stand with the others. He lowered the torch to the hole in McParlan’s wrist and ignited the gunpowder. Flames shot through the wound and out of the hole on the other side of his wrist. Mahpiya set fire to the other wounds, and stepped back.

  McParlan hollered and kicked when he realized there were flames erupting from his wrists and feet like rockets. He beat the ground until the flames went out and Jem grabbed him to hold him steady. “Help is on the way, Marshal. Just hold on.”

  “No more of your help, goddamn it! At least the other sons of bitches didn’t set me on fire.”

  ***

  Jem carried a torch around the site, setting fire to any pieces of the creature he found. To his disgust, he saw the tiny mouths on each sucker still moved, and the severed tentacles writhed and curled up as he set them aflame. The main portion of the thing was still attached to Little Willy. Its swollen head pulsated, as if it were still clinging to life despite all of the damage inflicted on it. The bullet hole in the center had clotted with gray pus and Jem drove the flaming torch into the hole, making the creature squeal and shrivel.

  Bart Masters walked along the canyon floor kicking any remaining pieces of the thing into the wagon fire. Jem helped him carry the Customs Officers over to the fire and pitch them in. They picked up Little Willy Harpe and were about to do the same when Bug ran over, waving his hands.

  Bug bent over Little Willy’s head and grabbed a handful of hair. He started to saw the scalp line with his blade. He worked until the black mass of hair came free in his hand and he held it up with a loud, Beothuk screech. He showed the others his trophy, and both Osceola and Mahpiya raised their fists and returned his call.

  Bart and Jem heaved Little
Willy into the flames. His body crashed into the boards and his clothing caught fire. Jem watched until his face turned black and there was no other reason to keep looking. Harpe was finished.

  A destrier worked its way down the path and Jem saw Anna Willow sitting behind Squawk. Her hands clutched the young man’s waist as the animal lumbered dangerously close to the edge of the steep trail. Squawk laughed at her nervousness and brought the destrier to a stop at the bottom. She took up her medical bag and walked around the fire, but started to run when she saw Jem.

  He caught her in his arms, mid-stride. “I’m ok,” he said. “I’m all right.”

  Anna stepped back and collected herself. “I thought you were hurt. Who needs me?”

  Jem walked her over to where McParlan was lying on a Beothuk blanket. He described the injuries and how Mahpiya had cauterized the wounds. The Marshal looked up and said, “These fools didn’t want to rescue me. They wanted to turn me into a barbeque.”

  “Where’s Doctor Halladay?” Anna said. She looked around the canyon and saw a body rolled up tightly inside another Beothuk blanket. “Oh God. Oh no.”

  Jem held up his hand and said, “Not now. There’s later for that.”

  They fashioned makeshift drag sleds from pieces of metal looted from the Customs ship, one for the Marshal and one for the body of Doctor Halladay. The younger Beothuk navigated the trail carefully to get the sleds up and out of the canyon. The Marshal’s complaining got louder at each bump in the road, but no one minded.

  Everyone else started up the trail on foot except Jem, who went into the Customs ship and emerged carrying a jug of fuel in each hand. He splashed fuel around the ship and covered the metal X. He soaked the ground where the rotting remains of Elijah Harpe lay. He formed a ring around the crash site with fuel until it was empty, then tossed both containers onto the ground.

  Bart Masters was waiting at the edge of the cliff with his laser in hand. He waited until Jem was high enough on the trail to throw the switch that sent the backpack rumbling to life. Bart picked a spot on the ship and squeezed the trigger, shining a red dot on the fuel lines that sparked as it cut through the steel casing.

  The fuel inside the tank ignited and set off waves of flame that engulfed the rear of the ship and shattered the observation windows. The fuel on the ground sparked and flames shot eight feet into the air, racing along the wet trails like fiery horses of the apocalypse. Jem had to shield his eyes from the intense heat. He looked for as long as he could while the valley below was cleansed by flames.

  ***

  Two men waited in the darkness at the base of the mountain. They sat on their destriers without moving, watching the party descend. Anna Willow leaned past Jem and said, “That’s Billy Jack and Walt. What the hell do they want?”

  “We’re not here for trouble,” Billy Jack Elliot said. “Just to talk. It’s time you learned the truth about a few things, Jem.”

  “You wouldn’t know the truth if it bit you!” Anna shouted.

  “That’s enough out of the women-folk,” Walt Junger said. “What we have to say is only for men. Not for women and not for savages.”

  Jem turned to Bart Masters and said, “Take Anna and the Marshal back to camp.”

  McParlan sat up in the back of his drag sled and said, “Don’t be stupid, boy. This is a goddamn trap.”

  “I agree,” Jem said. “Those two just don’t know it yet.” He walked his destrier over to the Beothuk and said, “You saved our lives back there. Whatever you thought you owed me, we’re settled up now.”

  Osceola looked at Mahpiya, who spoke Beothuk to him and pointed at Jem, the canyon, and the werja fangs on Jem’s neck. Osceola looked at Jem in confusion.

  “We’re square,” Jem said. “I did something for you and you did something in return. We’re even.”

  Osceola reached for the inside of Jem’s wrist and grasped it firmly. He pointed at Jem’s heart, then back at his own, and shook his head no.

  Jem smiled with understanding and said, “I like that much better, to be honest.”

  ***

  They rode until the mountains ahead were silhouetted by the light of both moons. “I know you have hard feelings for us, Jem,” Billy Jack Elliot said. “After we show you what’s up here, you’ll feel differently.”

  “Is that right?” Jem said. He stayed back while Elliot and Junger rode ahead of him, wanting to keep them both in his view.

  “In fact, this looks to be about the right place,” Walt Junger said. The road was dark and narrow from the thick, overgrown brush along either side. Jem recognized the path that led to the mountain pass where he’d seen Squawk for the first time.

  Billy Jack Elliot turned his destrier to face Jem. His voice was smoother than a rattlesnake’s hides when he said, “It is time you knew the truth about your father’s death. He was not killed by the Beothuk. We lied to you, and we are so very sorry.”

  “Well, what happened then?”

  “We would have told you sooner, if you hadn’t run off like you did. We figured it would be best to let the dead rest,” Junger said.

  “You going to tell me or does this overture keep going for awhile?”

  “Old Man Willow shot your daddy,” Walt Junger said. “That crazy old bastard got angry with your father when he found out Sam wanted to marry his daughter Anna. I know it’s hard to hear, but it’s the Lord’s solemn truth. It was probably on accident, but Old Man Willow shot him. I swear to God.”

  “It was an act of self defense, Jem,” Elliot said. “Now, we both know that you idolize your father, but he was far from perfect. Just like the rest of us. He went to grab Old Man Willow and Willow’s gun went off.”

  “We should have told you the truth a long time ago, and given Sam a proper burial,” Junger said.

  Elliot nodded, “We were afraid of the scandal it would cause both your families. You’ve already been through so much.”

  “We admit that we were wrong,” Junger said.

  Jem smiled at that. “Well, now we’re getting somewhere.”

  Walt Junger tapped his heel against his destrier’s side and started moving it forward. His voice flowed with honey and sugar when he said, “I know this might be a shock for you, but I’ve been thinking that you could be my Chief Deputy. What do you say? Another Clayton in the Sheriff’s Office of Seneca 6 has a mighty nice ring to it. Your daddy was Chief Deputy for years before taking over. You could do the same.”

  Junger was blocking Jem’s view of Billy Jack Elliot, and Jem stayed still, anticipating the moment to come. Junger yanked his reins to the side and Billy Jack Elliot came riding up behind him with a Winchester rifle ready to fire.

  Jem kicked his destrier in the ribs and it ran forward, crashing into Junger’s steed. Jem grabbed Junger by the collar and held him fast, keeping his body between himself and Elliot’s rifle. Junger tried to push away, but Jem grabbed the Colt Defeater from his right hip and stuck the barrel into Junger’s stomach. He fired twice as Elliot rode past, splattering the Mayor with Junger’s blood.

  Elliot’s destrier stopped running and he turned around, wide eyed, still holding his rifle but too astonished to do anything with it. Jem pushed Walt Junger out of his saddle and watched him fall dead on the ground. He raised his pistol to Elliot and said, “When you see Old Man Willow, thank him for warning me about your little trick.”

  Billy Jack Elliot dropped his rifle and spun in his saddle, leaping to the ground and running down the road on foot. Jem spurred his destrier and holstered his gun. Within seconds, the horse was beside Elliot, and Jem reached out to snatch him by the back of his coat.

  Jem pulled Elliot’s collar against his knee and lifted until only the toes of Elliot’s boots dragged on the ground. Jem yelled for his destrier to go faster, until the wind rushing through Jem’s ears was even louder than the Mayor’s screams.

  Birds took flight along the road at their approach and animals scattered out of the road at the sounds of the stampede. Jem rode cl
ose to a thicket of vines and barbed branches dangling from the rock wall and kicked Elliot into them.

  Elliot bounced and rolled into the vine’s tangled lengths. He attempted to free himself and only snared his arms and legs more completely. Eliot’s head hung low and he said, “Cut me loose, Jem.”

  “Nope.”

  “You can’t leave me here.”

  “Sure I can.”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong, Jem. I told you what happened…it was…Old Man…” A deep howl high up in the mountains silenced Elliot as he struggled to look for its source. “What the hell was that?”

  “That’s your company for this evening,” Jem said. “I’ll go so you can all get acquainted.”

  Billy Jack Elliot watched Jem ride off, and managed to get his head out of the vines enough to see the shapes of several large creatures coming down the mountainside.

  21. Heroes

  Seneca 6’s main square was empty, except for Anna Willow and Claire Miller. Claire’s husband, Frank, was curled up asleep on the Sheriff’s front porch with his coat draped over him like a blanket. Claire had gotten tired of telling him to go home and being ignored. She finally told him he could stay if he laid down and stayed quiet.

  Jem rode through the gate and got down from his destrier to hug both women. Anna said, “What did those two skunks want?”

  “Just to discuss a few things. They decided not to come back once they heard what I had to say.”

  “Well, good riddance,” Claire said. There were shouts of laughter from inside the Proud Lady, followed by applause. Someone yelled out, “Tell that part again!” Claire shook her head and said, “See what you did? All anyone saw was Bart Masters riding back with Anna in one arm and dragging that Marshal in the other like he was some kind of storybook hero. They threw him up on their shoulders and carried him into the Proud Lady and we ain’t seen none of them since.”