Guns of Seneca 6 Box Set Collected Saga (Chambers 1-4)

by Bernard Schaffer

  "I'm going with you," I said.

  By that time, Billy had come out to stand on the porch, and Walt looked up at him. Billy nodded and shrugged, telling me that was fine.

  We went past the security gate and headed into the mountains. To my surprise, both the other men hunted for your father with ferocity, determined to find him. I'd never put much stock in Walt Junger, but he cut sign for Sam Clayton like he was born to do it.

  Truthfully, I wasn't eager to find him.

  I thought we would get to the border of Beothuk country and find your father's body displayed like some kind of goddamn waypoint marker, a warning to all us civilized folk that this is what happens to them when you venture too far from home.

  Imagine my surprise when I spied a rider in the far off distance, making his way down the mountain toward us.

  I called out his name before we were even close enough to recognize one another, out of sheer hope. I spurred my ride forward, taking off toward him, but the other two stayed behind. I looked over my shoulder to see Billy side up to Walt and start talking.

  Sam smiled at me as I came near. "What the hell are you doing all the way out here?"

  "We came to rescue you, Sheriff," I said. "But you certainly don't look any worse for the wear."

  He asked who I'd brought with me, and when I told him, he frowned and stared straight ahead. "How are my kids?"

  "Fine," I said. "They're with Anna. You'd see her skin a werja with her bare hands before anybody messed with those children."

  "I know," he said. He was about to say something else, but Walt and Billy started riding toward us. Sam waited, taking their measure as they approached.

  "Hello, Walt," he called out. "Billy, your damn nose still looks crooked. Did you go see a doctor to get it set? You having trouble breathing out of it?"

  Walt rode in front of Billy Jack's destrier, blocking both our views of him for a moment. Walt made a big show of greeting Sam and telling him how proud everyone was of him, but just as Walt got close enough, he cut to the side. Billy Jack Elliot was aiming a rifle at your daddy. I remember thinking that it was some sort of joke, but then I heard the gunshot.

  The noise sent my destrier up on her hind legs, and by the time I got her back down, Sam was slumped over in the saddle. He was already gone by the time I ran to his side.

  The bullet had gone clear through his heart. I was reaching for my pistol when Walt Junger put the barrel of his gun against my forehead. "Time for you to make a decision, Old Man Willow."

  "Go to hell, you murderous son of a bitch." Tears were streaming down my face and filling up my eyes to the point that I could hardly make out either of them.

  Billy got down from his saddle and came up beside Walt. He pushed Walt's gun down and said, "Calm down. Mr. Willow's mind is spinning right about now. He needs a few moments to process."

  I got my pistol free and shouted, "Process this!" like I was some sort of dimestore hero. I feel funny writing it, but it's the truth. The look on both of their faces was priceless. It would have been perfect if I'd shot them both right there, but I squeezed the trigger and nothing happened. Either the damn thing jammed or it was never loaded in the first place. I've never been much of a gunman. If anything, I kept it with me for show.

  They laughed when I sank to my knees in the dirt and cried like a fool. Jem, I cried for you kids and I cried for my dear friend Sam. I'm not proud to say that I cried for myself and Anna too, because I was convinced that they were going to kill me next.

  But I did not beg.

  I cursed those sons of bitches and told them to get on with it.

  Billy squatted down in front of me and said, "I think there's been enough killing for one day. Especially since you got that pretty little girl back home."

  "Imagine what could happen to her if you don't come home tonight. We might have to go visit her, just to check on her," Walt said.

  "I heard how that old boy who used to work for you got real friendly with her," Billy said. "I heard he had her do all sorts of things. Sounds to me like she's got some experience. What do you say, Walter?"

  "I could use a sweet young thing that knows what she's doing," he said.

  "Unless of course we can all agree that we found Sam Clayton dead out here. I think if we all made that agreement, we could all live together in peaceful harmony."

  I looked at both of them and cursed them harder than any man has ever cursed another human being. I cursed them, Jem, and I told them to shoot me, but they didn't.

  They laughed at me.

  Both of them dragged Sam's body off to the side of the road just to leave him there. I wouldn't allow it. I dug out a shallow grave for him with my bare hands at the crest of the mountain. When they weren't looking, I took his Sheriff's badge and stuffed it in my pocket.

  Before we left, I memorized where we were and when I got home, I drew a map to his grave.

  Justice died in Seneca 6 the day Sam Clayton was murdered, Jem. It's been sitting inside this wooden box ever since. My hope is that by writing this, I might bring the day that it returns closer.

  I pray with all my might that you forgive me, Jem.

  May God have mercy on my soul, and none on the bastards that murdered the finest man I have ever known.

  Yours Eternally,

  Erasmus Willow

  Jem folded the pages of the letter and removed a map from inside the box. The map was a crude drawing with a stick figure for Sam's body and various symbols designating the terrain. Old Man Willow had drawn dots across the map to show footpaths and scribbled notes along the margins about the terrain.

  At the bottom of the box was a small object wrapped in black velvet cloth. Jem felt the heavy object inside the cloth, weighing it in the palm of his hand, before he unwrapped it. He peeled away the corners of the covering slowly to reveal the tarnished bronze star hidden within. The word SHERIFF was etched across the front.

  Jem laid back on the bed and inspected the star, turning it over in his hands. It looked smaller than it had when he was a boy, even though this was the first time he'd ever actually held it. Sam had never taken it off of his coat.

  Jem twirled the badge between his fingers, feeling that the grooves of the letters were worn smooth. He studied his reflection in the dull brass surface and could not deny that the image he saw looked a lot like the badge's previous owner.

  But he'd been a good man, Jem thought. A law-abiding man of respectable character. Decent as the day is long. Sam Clayton was a good man, and you sons of bitches took him away, he thought. He picked up the letter and looked at it again, thinking, you all are about to die.

  16. The Mercy Seat

  The newest Ayawisgi entered the sacred circle, surrounded by the warriors of the tribe. A trio of drummers pounded a skin of stretched hide in unison with a slow beat that made the boys bend over and sweep the ground with their hands. The pace of the drum increased and the drummers sang in high-pitched tones of an ancient battle between the Beothuk of the Plains and the White Man.

  Lakhpia-Sha winced as he tried to lift his thickly bandaged arm at the elbow to point it toward the sky. Haienwa'tha hovered close by, keeping the excited Thathanka-Ska from bouncing into them both.

  Osceola stood outside the circle, stone-faced as he watched the boys dance save for the movement of his lips as he recited the choreographed movements he'd carefully imparted to them. His eyes clenched shut each time one of them missed.

  Chief Thasuka-Witko entered the circle and held up his hands, "All Ayawisgi join us inside the circle, and celebrate your fellow warriors' ascension into the tribe of men." Everyone began to dance, and even ancient Mahpiya limped with his staff into the circle to join them.

  Mahpiya had been a grand-champion in his youth, competing against other tribes and returning with ribbons and blankets in prizes for his people. He mastered the dances of the Northern tribes and Eastern tribes and even now as his steps were limited and stilted, everyone stood aside at his approach lest they g
ive off the appearance of challenging him.

  Mahpiya watched his people dance and held out his hand to the four winds in thanks for another season. He closed his eyes and swayed to the drum's beat, feeling the wind rise and blow across his face.

  Mahpiya stopped dancing.

  Everyone quickly noticed him standing still, face into the wind, chanting. Thasuka-Witko made his way toward the old man cautiously, not wanting to disturb his trance. Mahpiya's eyes opened and he said, "Clear the circle."

  The drumming stopped and the dancers filed out of the circle behind the Chief, leaving the medicine man standing alone in the center. He raised his stick and lifted it high in the air, then drove it into the ground. He held out his hands and uttered a prayer, drawing circles in the dust with the edge of his staff until it started to swirl on its own.

  Mahpiya guided the small cyclone from side to side, as it grew in force and started toward the edges of the circle, whipping past the faces of the men who stood watching. The cyclone spun around and around, circling Mahpiya as he reached into his pouch and threw a handful of green leaves into the winds.

  His eyes darted back and forth to read the shape the leaves took as they flew past, and suddenly the old man clapped his hands and the wind stopped, sending dust and stone raining toward the ground. Mahpiya looked at Thasuka Witko and said, "You must gather the women."

  Chief Thasuka Witko greeted the Women's Council by nodding at the ones who surrounded the fire and assessed him with their stares. The eldest woman on the Council was called Agaidika. She was older than the small mountains; older than even Mahpiya.

  Agaidika had outlived everyone she loved, including her own children, and the many years alone had brought her the kind of wisdom that is born of having no sympathy for anyone or thing. At the opposite end of the circle were young women, only a few years older than Thasuka Witko's oldest, Haienwa'tha. They held babies to their young, full breasts then bounced them on their knees, trying to keep them silent when the Chief made ready to speak.

  Thasuka Witko spoke directly to Agaidika, loud enough for her deaf ears to hear, but also for his sons, who hid nearby so that they might listen and learn. He had done the same when Hoka-Psice went before the old woman, and he would not have bet that she would not still be alive long after he too joined the Great Spirit. "Mahpiya has told me that there are bad signs coming from the West. He claims a great evil comes to those lands, with wicked medicine to destroy the Wasichu who live there."

  Agaidika smacked her toothless gums together like she was chewing her words before she leaned forward and squinted at the Chief in the dim firelight. "Why should the People concern themselves with the Wasichu? If anything, we should celebrate their demise."

  The rest of the women murmured in agreement, and Thasuka Witko said, "Hoka-Psice always admired you, Grandmother Agaidika. He said if you had been born a man, you would have made a formidable General. You have guided our people for many years, and I value your counsel. I intend to lead a scouting party west to determine if this evil poses a threat to us."

  The women closed in around Agaidika. Each of them took turns whispering in her hairy ear. Thasuka Witko wrapped a blanket around his shoulders while he waited for an answer and walked away from the circle, toward the shadows where he saw two pairs of dark feet standing under a bush. Haienwa'tha whispered, "Why do you even have to consult with them? You are the Chief. They are only women."

  Thasuka Witko chuckled and said, "I once asked the same exact question of Hoka-Psice. I expect that your sons will someday ask you the same. This is what I was told: A Chief of the tribe gives the orders, but it is the women who enforce them, or see to it that they are not enforced at all."

  When he walked back, the women were separated from Agaidika and waiting for him to sit down. The old woman said, "It does us no good to endanger the lives of our brave warriors on something that is not of our concern. If Thasuka Witko insists on interfering in the concerns of the Wasichu, let the new Ayawisgi go."

  "I said I was going to lead the party."

  Agaidika smiled with a mouthful of rotten teeth and said, "You have said what you said, and so have I."

  The women withdrew from the fire, and Thasuka Witko stood up and called out to Haienwa'tha to bring the warriors of the tribe to him. Soon, the men were advancing up the hill toward the fire, talking amongst themselves excitedly about the upcoming battle. They boasted to one another about how many they would kill and the amount of scalps they would return with.

  Thasuka Witko waited for them to gather around him before he said, "It is decided. All of us will remain here, except for the new Ayawisgi. They will ride west to act as our eyes and ears."

  There were responses of disbelief and anger at the women's decision. The Chief held up his hand and said, "The point of the Ayawisgi is that they have proven themselves as warriors. What right do we have to question their abilities?"

  Haienwa'tha stuck out his chest and said, "We will honor our ancestors and give all of you many things to sing about in our memory! When do we leave?"

  Thasuka Witko looked at his son with concern and said, "Gather your things."

  The three boys hurried down the slope to return to camp. Osceola watched his son run and grunted with approval. "He is not afraid, even with only one arm."

  "Lakhpia-Sha is not going, old friend," Thasuka Witko said. "He is too weak to ride."

  Osceola's face twisted at the insult and he turned to his Chief and said, "My son is not weak. Be cautious with your words."

  "Listen to me very carefully," Thasuka Witko said. "The scouting party is too small to send someone who is not healed. The old woman insists only the new Ayawisgi go, but according to the old laws, if one of them is not suited for the journey, I can select a replacement."

  Osceola nodded in understanding and said, "Do you have a replacement in mind?"

  Thasuka Witko patted him on the arm and said, "There is only one man I would trust with the lives of my two remaining sons."

  Osceola bowed his head and said, "I will get my things ready."

  Mahpiya limped toward them and said, "I too will go with them."

  "The women's council did not mention you, old man," Thasuka-Witko said.

  "This is true."

  "So I must forbid it."

  "Ah. Well then, so be it. In that case, I am going out to look for new herbs for the tribe and will most likely be gone awhile."

  "And just where will you be going to look for them?" Thasuka-Witko said.

  The medicine man looked toward the west and said, "I think, in that direction."

  Charlie Boles Junior watched his father sit up in the hospital bed and said, "How does it feel?"

  Boles braced his hand against the bandage around his thigh and said, "It hurts like hell, stupid. How much money do we have left?"

  Junior reached into his pocket and took out the small fold of bills. "Not much. It cost a ton to get you fixed up. We have maybe enough to rent a room here long enough to find work."

  Boles snatched the money from his son's hand and said, "Work? Go and find a sturdy mule that can carry us all the way to Seneca 6. Don't buy nothing bow-legged now or I'll make you sorry."

  "Why Seneca 6? We ain't going looking for that man, are we?"

  Boles' eyes narrowed. "Just do what I tell you."

  Four days later, Charlie Boles Junior tapped his father on the arm and pointed up at the sky. A small transport vessel was descending from the clouds into a canyon, its thrusters popping jets of flame and smoke. Charlie Boles snapped the reins on their stolen, scraggly-legged mule, and headed toward the edge of the cliff to watch the ship's landing gear extend as it lowered into the valley.

  The boarding ramp extended and two uniformed Customs Agents carrying large rifles exited the ship. Little Willy Harpe and Hank Raddiger followed behind them. Little Willy surveyed the wreckage of a spaceship scattered around the canyon and said, "Go find that homing beacon and turn it off."

  He passed the bu
rned out hull and pieces of engine to see a flock of black birds piled onto the carcass of a body, picking it clean. Harpe stomped his feet and chased the birds off, and as they fled from his approach, he saw that the body was missing a head.

  Hank shouted, "Over here!" There was panic in Hank's voice as Harpe walked around the wreckage toward him. Hank put up both hands to stop him and said, "Now calm down for a second, Willy. I don't want you to get upset."

  Harpe shoved him aside, seeing nothing more than scattered ship parts and the burned out hull of a small spacecraft with a pole sticking out of it. Something was placed on top of the pole. Something that looked like it had hair that blew in the wind.

  Little Willy stared at Elijah's head, spiked on the pole. Elijah's eyes were staring back at him as Little Willy reached up and grabbed the head by both sides and started to twist it free. It popped off with a sucking noise and Little Willy held the head between his hands and collapsed to his knees, screaming with such ferocity that Hank Raddiger's insides felt wet. Hank kneeled in the dirt beside him and did not speak.

  Little Willy swept his sleeves across his eyes and swallowed. "He's going to tell me who did this to him."

  "I don't think he's going to do much talking, Little Willy."

  "SUFFER, you imbecile."

  Hank convulsed and contorted and his teeth smashed together so violently they cracked. Little Willy turned Elijah's severed head upside down and peered into the open gullet of his throat before rolling up his sleeve and sticking his bare hand into the mushy pulp beneath Elijah's chin. He slid his fingers around the neck bone and pushed past the muscle and connective tissue until he could touch the base of Elijah's skull. He grabbed the brain stem and yanked it out of the way, guiding himself along the gelatinous surface of Elijah's brain. "Show me what happened, Elijah," Little Willy said. "Show me."