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

by Bernard Schaffer

  Starr hooked both his thumbs in his holsters, close enough to the handles of his pistols that he could rip them out and kill everyone in the room if he wanted. He had a nasty looking bowie knife sheathed behind his back for when he ran out of bullets.

  Winnie sauntered forward with her hands on both her hips, "How about ten dollars severian, and I give you a free throw upstairs, right now?"

  Starr turned and looked at her with leering approval, "You old enough to be working in a place like this sweetie?"

  "Why's that, daddy?" she purred. "You scared a me?"

  "That must be it," he said. Starr smacked the top of the bar and said, "Sold. Pay my associate while I see to this fine young lady, if you don't mind."

  Dan looked at Winnie with concern as she laced her arm through Starr's and they headed up the stairs together. His hands were already crawling all over her back and waist, cupping her buttocks under her long, frilly skirt and whispering how sweet she looked. Winnie let him in the room and closed the door behind him, taking a moment to lock it. "Go ahead and get undressed, sweetie," she said.

  "You first," he said.

  Winnie nodded slowly as she took her time to plan it out in her head. Her thoughts burst out of the gate like a runaway steer when she'd first spoken to Starr, and now it was like trying to rope them in with a flimsy lasso. The hungry look in Starr's eyes told her there was no leaving the room. Something was going to happen, she knew it, and the only choice was who was it going to happen to.

  She swayed toward him and put her hands on his shirt, running the tips of her fingers down his chest toward his waist, "I bet you got a big … long …"

  Starr nodded as he looked down at her with a wolfish smile. Her hands ran along his hips, going over his guns and coming around his waist to pull him closer.

  "Knife!" Winnie shouted. She ripped the bowie knife out of its sheath and swung her arm to stab him in the side as deep and hard as she could. Right before the tip of the blade touched him, Starr's hand shot out and caught her by the wrist, stopping her attempt in mid-strike.

  "The hell is wrong with you, you little bitch?" he snarled. He twisted her arm at the wrist and Winnie howled in pain until she dropped down to one knee. "You tryin' to kill me?"

  "Get off, you son of a bitch!" Winnie shouted.

  Downstairs she could hear Dan shout, "The hell is going on up there?" His voice was followed by several gunshots and screams.

  Starr grabbed Winnie by the back of her hair and yanked until she was looking directly up at him. He stared her in the eyes as he pried the knife out of her hand. "I don't know what the hell's wrong with you, but I'm not going to shoot you, little lady. Oh, no," he whispered. "That would be too quick."

  Several more shots rang out downstairs and Starr said, "Sounds like Mr. Pine is having himself a good old time. Lucky for you that it wouldn't be prudent for me to stick around. But still, lessons must be taught." He bent down over her to keep her arms pinned and slid the knife's edge across her throat.

  Winnie felt it slicing through her skin hot as coals and shrieked in agony. She screamed until she lost consciousness and went limp in Johnny Starr's arms. He dropped her to the floor and wiped his knife off on her dress before he got up and left.

  She heard voices calling out to her from a distance, as if she were stranded on an island and they were passing by on an enormous ship. She could see her mother aboard the boat, leaning over the rails, waving for her to hurry up, to swim after them, but the water was black and terrifying, and soon the ship was gone.

  During her stay in the hospital she opened her eyes several times and even managed to have conversations with the people around her. She managed to ask for a glass of water, and then fell back into unconsciousness. In the middle of the night during her first week, she sat straight up and cried out for her brother.

  "He's all right, honey," the old nurse said. She laid Winnie back down and smoothed her damp hair. "Mr. Millner is seeing after him. Him and his wife have a lovely home and your brother is doing just fine, just fine, indeed."

  Winnie groaned and reached up to scratch her neck. It felt like a rope made of burrs and thorns was wrapped around it, choking her and irritating her skin to the point of insanity. "Don't touch that, now!" the nurse said. "Just leave it be. The itching means it's healing."

  4. An Excerpt from The First Settlers - Founding Seneca Prime

  A Virgin Planet with a Secret Gift

  In the old days, when the mining barons first braved the distant reaches of the cosmos in search of new sources of vital minerals and metals, they happened upon a small, desolate planet that we now know as Seneca. When they first arrived, it was only a dusty, worthless hunk of space dirt with nothing more than its two moons to make it noteworthy. But the mining barons knew better. Their scanners had detected something special about Seneca. It was the source of a rare and precious metal known as severian.

  Severian, the stuff of dreams, where even the lowliest miner could happen upon a small pocket of it and live like a king for the rest of his days.

  Because of its remoteness and hard, rugged terrain, Seneca was unspoiled by any sort of modern civilization. The ground was barren, water was scarce, and for thousands of miles there was nothing but deserts, mountains, and canyons. Even its wildlife was tough. It wasn't long before the first arrivals encountered a ferocious beast known as the werja. Like the demon spawn of a wolf and a bear, werja roamed the shadows of Seneca, waiting to pounce on the unsuspecting traveler.

  The only living thing tougher than a werja, the settlers soon found out, was the massive equine creature called the destrier. Similar to Earth's horses, the destrier were taller and broader and could run like the wind! Unlike the werja, these noble creatures seemed to welcome mankind and quickly became in invaluable asset to those brave men who came here in search of fortune.

  The First Settlement

  The earliest method of extracting severian was to remove it from the surface. Legend says that there was so much of it, you could scoop up piles of glittering ore with your bare hands!

  They called the first settlement, Seneca Prime. At first it was nothing more than a collection of tents and equipment, but before long, a small town grew up around the mining operation complete with homes, a saloon, a bank, and a General Store. The Silk Purse, one of the first establishments in Seneca Prime, still exists to this day. It's a fine gentlemen's club where lonely miners can seek out the company of a beautiful young woman and enjoy an evening of laughter and dancing.

  More Settlements Soon Followed

  In time, PNDA scouts began to branch out in search of other severian veins. They only had to go a few miles in any direction to find it. "Eureka!" they'd shout, and before long, this virgin planet was crawling with people. Seneca 2, 3, and 4 were all founded within the next two years, and before long, men were coming from all over the universe in search of decent wages and opportunity.

  Over the next twenty years, PNDA scientists began developing even more impressive ways of getting riches out of the ground, ways to dig deep beneath the planet's surface where they could find underground mountains of severian. The tricky part was where to put it. They'd need more room than the clustered settlements they already had, so those brave souls ventured forth into the great unknown. It wasn't long before they found what they were looking for!

  Even as the PNDA prepares to break ground on Seneca 5, there are rumors that they've already begun to scout locations for a sixth settlement. The mind reels to think that in such a short period of time, this small, desolate planet has been transformed into a thriving community. It's a testament to the fortitude and hard work of those first settlers that now there are whole generations of people living and working on Seneca who have never known any other home.

  Unexpected Neighbors

  As the PNDA began to expand westward, they encountered something no one expected to ever see. Other people living in the wasteland!

  At first, things started going missing from th
e research team's campsite. Knick-knacks and food-stuffs and shiny little trinkets. Finally, they took it upon themselves to solve the mystery, and sure enough they began catching half-naked savages dressed in furs and beads and feathers. Much to their amazement, these folks lived in great big tribes, picking through the dirt for bugs to eat just so they could survive.

  The researchers bravely met with the Beothuk Chief, and showed him the amazing technology at their disposal. So impressed were the savages they instantly bowed down in worship of the team as wizards or gods. The researchers laughed at the very idea and tried to teach the savages how to live like civilized people.

  To this day, all tribes have a sacred ritual to celebrate the day they first met the settlers and even have a revered word for them, "Wasichu." Some people believe that in time, the Beothuk will abandon their savage ways. Imagine the day when they're trained to use their great tracking abilities to find even newer and bigger deposits of severian for the PNDA. Who knows, maybe someday they might even send their children to our schools and churches so they can grow up to live good, decent lives.

  5. The Ghost of Seneca Prime

  Charlie Diehl picked up the cards one by one as the dealer slid them across the dirty felt table toward him. Ace of clubs. Eight of spades. He'd never been in a private poker room before, let alone a game with such high stakes. The chips were piled in the center of the table like they'd been bulldozed there.

  The skinny, bearded man sitting two seats away coughed lightly, trying to keep it muffled. His beard was fluffy and brown and flecked with bits of dried blood. Sweat dripped down his marble-white face, but still he managed to smirk at Diehl and say, "A five card draw. That's a bold maneuver. Tell me, Charlie. Are the fates with you or not?"

  "Go to hell, blood-spitter. Don't try and frazzle me with your mumbo-jumbo."

  The dealer peeled off the next card from the deck and slid it to Diehl. Ace of spades. Diehl swallowed and kept his face steady. He looked at the stack of chips in the center of the table, trying not to tally it up unable to help himself.

  His opponent reached for his glass of whiskey and downed it in one swallow. "What do you reckon you might do with a princely sum like this? Maybe hire a tutor to teach you to read?"

  "I can read just fine," Diehl muttered. The next card came his way. Eight of clubs. He couldn't help but smile.

  "Was that the one, Charlie? The one you were born to receive? The one that will change everything and justify a long string of poor decisions and bad luck? Personally, I cannot fathom how you ever managed to scare up enough funds to even engage in this competition. I always saw you more as a man of the penny slots."

  "Shut the hell up, Morrison, and let the man deal."

  JD Morrison leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I apologize, Charlie. I should know better than to try to engage you in conversation when you are making such an effort at concentrating. For instance, I am sure you noticed that while you drew all five cards, I only drew one. Obviously it occurred to you that I already had a strong hand. It would seem painfully obvious, even to someone as dull-witted and slope-browed as yourself, that it would take a massive stroke of luck to beat me."

  They both looked down at the table as the dealer slid Charlie Diehl's final card across it. Diehl went to pick it up and Halladay leaned forward, "Take a moment, Charlie. Think of it this way, until the moment you pick up that card, you are on the cusp of victory. It contains a world of infinite possibilities that all evaporate the moment you see what it truly is."

  "What it truly is, is me whipping your disease-ridden ass and takin' your money, blood-spitter." Diehl started to lift the card, when the room's door burst open, its brass handle smashing the handrail on the wall behind it.

  "Charlie Diehl, you lyin', thievin', no good rotten rat bastard."

  Diehl lowered his head and said, "That better not be you, bitch."

  She was a comely, dark-haired woman, wearing a shapely dress with a black silk scarf tied around her neck. Her wide brown eyes flashed with fury as she stormed toward the table and jabbed her finger at the stack of chips, "I gave you that money as a down payment and here you are gambling it away."

  "That ain't your money, whore. Now get the hell out of here before I slap you."

  "The hell it ain't!" she cried. "You didn't have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of yesterday and as soon as I gave you that contract, you came right here." She looked at the dealer and said, "This game is over."

  "Pardon me," Morrison said, "But it most certainly is not."

  "It most certainly is too, you pasty-faced bastard. Charlie Diehl took this from me in good faith and I can't afford to let him hand it over to you."

  "I ain't handing over shit!" Diehl shouted. He slammed the table with his fist and stood up, "I warned you one time."

  She turned on him with her hands balled into fists, "Told me what? You think I'm afraid of scum like you?"

  "Scum like me?" Diehl sniffed. "All your money still stinks like the last hundred men you spread your legs for to get it."

  "At least they were men!"

  Diehl raised his hand back to his ear, about to send it flying across the woman's face, when Morrison's hand came up from under the table with a gleaming pistol, the mechanical click of its hammer dropping back under his thumb enough to stop Diehl cold. "Now everyone who knows me knows how much I abhor violence," Morrison said drolly. "In particular, that against the fairer sex."

  He spied the dealer reaching for the handle of the shotgun at his side, and quickly produced another pistol which he stuck into the dealer's left ear. Morrison took a deep breath and smiled at them all, "I admit, this night has turned out to be more exciting than I anticipated."

  "Thank you, sir," the woman said. As she reached for the pile of chips, Morrison aimed his gun at her.

  "I am prone to forgetting my manners when anyone interferes with my livelihood, young lady. I entreat you not to make me do something I will be mildly annoyed at myself with for a short-lived period of time."

  "You don't understand. Charlie Diehl promised me he'd do something that I been saving up for. That I did unspeakable things for."

  "And are you truly surprised that a widely-renowned piece of human excrement such as Mr. Diehl was not honest with you?" Morrison said. "A wise man once said that if you choose to lie down with assholes, do not be surprised to wake up smelling like shit." He turned and looked at the dealer, "Do you see? Now I'm forgetting my manners in front a lady."

  "Get your gun off me, JD," the dealer muttered.

  "In due time, my friend." He turned and looked at the others, "So, it seems we are at an impasse. I suppose the first order of business is to see who held the winning hand. Young lady, would you please turn over all of Mr. Diehl's cards so that we might see what glorious luck befell him tonight?"

  "How does that help me?" she said. "Do you promise that if he wins I get to keep what's mine out of the pot?"

  "Indeed, I do," Morrison said.

  "And if he loses, do I get to keep it from yours?"

  "Absolutely not."

  "Then I'm right back where I started," she said.

  "Not necessarily," Morrison said. "Mr. Diehl is going to make a side bet with you. The stakes are very simple. You bet the amount you believe is yours against his life. If he loses, he dies."

  "I ain't gonna lose to you, blood-spitter," Diehl snarled.

  Morrison smirked and said, "Or you could just forfeit and walk away, Charlie. I'll give the girl back her money and you can go on leading your miserable, illiterate existence. By the by, illiterate means 'one who cannot read.'"

  "Go to hell. I accept your terms, you piece of shit. Flip the damn card and we'll see who's laughing."

  "Go ahead, my dear," Morrison said.

  The woman reached down and turned over Charlie Diehl's hand, calling out, "Ace of clubs, ace of spades, eight of clubs, eight of spades." She reached for the final card and turned it over.

  Diehl let out a whoop o
f joy and said, "Eight of hearts! Full house!"

  Morrison cocked an eyebrow at the cards on the table and said, "I admit that I am truly impressed, Charlie. Well played." Diehl moved to scoop up the money, but Morrison shook his pistol at him and said, "I'd like to show my hand as well. My dear, would you do the honors?"

  She took the cards from where they were neatly arranged in front of Morrison and turned them over all at once. Everyone looked down at the row of four Kings, but said nothing. "Refresh my memory, Charlie. Is four of a kind a good hand?"

  "You dirty son of a bitch!" Diehl shouted.

  Morrison's pistol fired directly at Diehl's forehead, caving it in like a black hole sucking in all of the space and mass around it. Diehl staggered backwards and collapsed, pulling several large framed portraits down from the wall that shattered when they hit the floor. Diehl grunted and snorted blood as he expired, writhing on the ground until his spurs dug canals in the polished wooden floor. His fingernails scraped the wall, tearing chunks of red wallpaper off that stuck to his blood-soaked hands.

  Morrison twirled both pistols around his fingers and holstered them expertly. "A deal is a deal." He turned to the dealer and said, "You have been a true pleasure tonight, my friend. Ten percent of what is on the table is yours so long as you give the correct account of what occurred when the authorities show up."

  The dealer glanced at the pile of money and said, "And what's the correct account?"

  "Charlie Diehl stole this woman's money and when she confronted him he attempted to kill her. I shot him in her defense."

  When the dealer nodded, Morrison lowered both of his guns and slid them back into their holsters on either side of his hips. He partitioned the dealer's cut of the chips and slid the rest onto a serving tray. The woman put her hand on his arm, "Wait a second. Where's my money?"

  "Your bet was for Diehl's life and you have been paid in full. Good day, madam."

  Morrison leaned against the bar, swirling the remaining dregs of whiskey in his glass in circles. He knew if he finished it, they'd pour him another, and he'd drink that one too and risk being too drunk to handle someone as fat and stupid as the Sheriff of Seneca Prime. The whisky was like piss-water anyway. He reached up and scratched the scraggly hair growing out of his neck and chin. All the damn thing did was itch lately.