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

by Bernard Schaffer

  Johnny Starr walked across the pulpit and put his hand on Abe's shoulder to gently massage it, "I do enjoy the sight of a family reunion." He looked at the Millners and said, "Okay, folks. You did an excellent job in bringing Winnie here. Now all I need you both to do is go home and leave Abe and her here with me so we can discuss things in private."

  "Wait," Mr. Millner said. "That wasn't part of the agreement."

  Mrs. Millner latched onto Abe's hand and said, "Abe is coming with us. Right now." She yanked on his arm to try and pull him away, but Starr moved faster than their eyes could track, instantly tearing his pistol out of its holster and cracking the long silver barrel across the side of Abe's skull. Abe dropped like a sack of flour to the stage, leaking bright red blood through his fine, freshly-combed blonde hair. Mrs. Millner howled in outrage and ran at Starr on her chubby, stilted legs, but stopped cold as he raised the pistol to her face and cocked it. "I'm a reasonable person," Starr said. "You want to reason? Let's reason."

  "Do what he says, Mother!" Mr. Millner shouted.

  Starr lifted the tip of his gun's barrel into Mrs. Millner's nose until it was turned up like a pig's. He nodded at her and said, "Your husband is right. You should do as I say. Now, the fact is, I don't need either one of you. I would prefer to have the preacher for certain theatrical aspects of what I intend to do, but I don't really need him either. As for the whore, I'd like to have her, and certainly intend to keep her, but ultimately, I don't need her. My point is, I can kill all four of you right now and be done with this whole mess. Or, you and your husband can do as I say, and perhaps have a chance at having things turn out the way you want them to." He smiled broadly at her and said, "Sounds like a pretty square deal if you ask me."

  Tears streamed down the old woman's face and she only managed a few whimpers as a response. Mr. Millner threw himself forward against the pulpit's steps and said, "Sir, we'll do anything you ask. We are here to cooperate. I beg you, just don't hurt my wife or my son."

  "Tie up the whore," Starr said. "There's a couple chairs and some rope behind the curtain."

  "Come on," Millner shouted as he struggled with Winnie to get her up the steps.

  Starr lowered the gun over Abe's head and said, "I think you know I will kill him."

  Winnie puckered her lips and spat into Mr. Millner's face. She shoved his hands off of her and walked up the steps on her own.

  The two of them shoved Winnie down into the chair and started to wrap the corded rope around her arms and legs, tying multiple knots around every arm and angle of the chair until she was unable to move. The old woman kept looking back at Abe, her eyes filling with tears at the sight of his bloody head and motionless form. They finally had Winnie strapped down tight and Starr fished a dirty cloth out of his pocket. He tossed the cloth at Mrs. Millner and said, "Stuff this in her mouth so we don't have to listen to her. Don't worry, she's put worse things inside it."

  Mr. Millner panted, "There, we did what you asked. Can we go now?"

  "First tie up the boy," Starr said.

  "No!" Mrs. Millner moaned.

  "Wait, just wait a minute," Mr. Millner said. "Now we brought you the girl, and we tied her up. You said you don't need Abe. Let us take him so we can get him to the hospital."

  "That won't be necessary."

  "Why not?"

  Starr smiled and said, "There's a doctor on the way."

  Once Abe was tied up and Mrs. Millner was finished mewling and begging him to forgive her for it, Starr waved for them to hurry up and meet him at the top of the aisle. They hurried down it toward him, pressed close to one another, the old man's arms helping keep his wife upright. Starr popped open the front door and said, "Right this way."

  Mrs. Millner stopped on the porch and said, "How soon before we get Abe back."

  "Very soon, I expect," Starr said. "How long have you two been married?"

  "Over forty years," Mr. Millner said.

  "That is incredible," Starr said.

  "Our love of the Lord united us from the very beginning," Mrs. Millner said.

  "I bet. That's true love."

  "It certainly is," Mr. Millner said.

  "I sure would like to see a demonstration real quick, before you go."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Here," Starr said. He pointed at the front steps of the church and said, "Let me see you both sit down right here together, side-by-side."

  The Millners looked at one another with concern, but did as Starr said. The old man had both his arms wrapped around his wife, cradling her protectively. "That's it," Starr nodded. Get real close. Press your faces against one another. It's been a long day for everybody." He went around behind them, spurs dragging on the church's wooden porch. "Warms my heart to see a couple of old folks like you. The kind that shares everything."

  The Millners heard the hammer of Starr's pistol cock back. Mrs. Millner squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her husband's hand.

  As he walked, the night air blew through Halladay like the breeze through an attic, clearing out the spiderwebs and dust. He walked until he could smell the alcohol sweating from his pores and evaporating in the crisp evening chill. He walked until he was no longer swerving and the soft haze dissipated, leaving only the beginnings of a throbbing headache in its wake.

  Hair of the dog, then, he thought.

  He turned around to walk back to the Dalewood and collect Winnie. She was, he imagined, still there. Most likely slumped over and likely lying in a pool of her own sickness.

  That's if she remained at the bar, he thought. He pictured her being led upstairs by some heartless wretch who'd heard Doc's words and swooped in to offer her solace. A bit of self-esteem. Perhaps a fast coin. Just a worthless whore, right, Doc?

  He knew he'd find her sprawled on one of the filthy beds, passed out with her hands and feet dangling over the sides, while a long line of men waited to have their turn with her defenseless form. Halladay found himself hurrying now, nearly running until he could see the Dalewood just ahead. He bounded up the stairs and threw the door open, letting out a groan when he saw the bar was empty. "Where is the woman I was in here with earlier?" he called out to the bartender.

  The bartender shrugged and continued to wipe down his station. Halladay shrugged and said, "Fine." He tossed the flaps of his coat back and drew both his pistols, "I will go search for her myself upstairs, then."

  "Wait!" the bartender lifted his hands and shouted. "She ain't here. Said something about going to find her brother, but I couldn't understand where. She was slobbering drunk."

  "And you saw fit to let her leave in such a state?"

  "I ain't no babysitter, mister. People got free will around here."

  "If anything has happened to her, I will remind you of that in the near future," Halladay said. "Consider that due notice and fair warning."

  He checked the alleyways as he left the saloon, checked the faces of every man he passed for a leering smile or a last-minute adjustment to their clothing.

  He listened for a scream. It would ring out the same as before, stretching across the years to connect him to that same night so long ago when he sat contentedly in his kitchen, never dreaming what he would see when he opened his back door. Never being able to un-hear that scream.

  Now Halladay was running down the dark street, calling for her, making his way toward her brother's church even as blood clogged his throat and he had to fling it sideways from his mouth. He ran until he came upon two people sitting on the church's front steps, side-to-side and cheek-to-cheek, propping one another up like two drunks. Halladay squinted in the dim light and realized it was the fat old woman and her husband from before. The same two who'd chased Winnie out of the church. The Millners, he thought she'd said. And they were not moving.

  He was about to call out to them when he saw a dark pool puddled between them, dripping from between their pressed-together faces. Their eyes were wide and dull as he leaned close enough to see dark gunpowder burns scored the s
ide of Mrs. Millner's face where the bullet had gone in, and the large blown out exit wound on the opposite side of her husband's head where the same bullet had gone out.

  Halladay closed both of their eyes and drew his guns, keeping them pointed at the church's front door. Sulfuric fumes escaped as he twisted the doorknobs, enough to sting his eyes and make him cough. Someone hammered the keys of the church's organ as he entered, loud enough to make the pipes whistle. Halladay moved up through the dark pews toward the sound of the organ, even as it continued to play and he heard a man sing out, "Royce Halladay was a sickly man, with a young and pretty whore. But he met his fate when he arrived too late and … something rhymes with whore but I'm not sure." The organ music stopped and the man said, "I apologize, Doctor Halladay. I'd have composed proper lyrics if I'd had more time. Still, that's quite close enough."

  Halladay stopped and tried to peer into the darkness. The fumes were nearly blinding now. It stunk of fuel and machine oil. "Edwina, can you hear me?"

  "Oh, she can hear you all right. By the way, you might want to put them guns away. Fire one and you'll get a show, all right. A screaming, melting show that you will not believe."

  "What did you do?" Halladay whispered.

  "Here, let me show you." Johnny Starr's dark figure moved across the church pulpit toward the large stained glass windows and unlatched the shutters. As multi-colored light came streaming through the panes it revealed Winnie and Abe tied to chairs on the stage, every inch of them slathered in thick black tar. It was caked in their hair and dripped from their chins. Winnie's eyelids drooped from the weight of them and it was all she could do to breathe through the thick rag stuffed in her mouth. Abe's head hung low in his chair beside her, swaying unconsciously side to side. "I was wondering when you'd show up," Starr said.

  Halladay cocked his pistols and aimed them at Starr's head, but the man only smiled and said, "Tar's a real bitch to get off, you know. They'll burn long before you manage to scrape it off their faces and necks and your girl's rather perfectly formed bosom. Which one you going to try and save first, anyway? Her, of course, except she won't want you to. She'll want you to save her brother. Probably won't ever forgive you, either. It's quite a conundrum."

  Starr pulled out a box of wooden matches and laid them on top of the organ. He drummed its lid with his fingers, deep in thought for a moment, while he regarded Halladay. Finally, he pointed at the pew next to Halladay and said, "I found that on the woman. I expect that's what she was paying you to come along on this little fool's errand."

  Starr pointed at Winnie's bag of severian in the aisle seat nearest Halladay and said, "Tell you what, take that whole thing and go. Get yourself enough liquor to fill a swimming pool and you can buy ten whores just like this one. All you got to do is turn around and walk away."

  When Halladay didn't move, Starr sighed and said, "I figured you were too dumb to make this easy. Well, since I've got you here, let me ask you something." He reached into his pocket and fished out Tom Masters' deputy star, lifting it into the light to inspect its sharp points and engraving. "At first I didn't know what to make of this. I thought she was some kind of undercover agent sent to come get me. And then I realized I had seen this badge before! Holy shit, I was speechless. All those years gone by, and she's still carrying this thing around? I couldn't believe it. Talk about holding a grudge." Starr lowered the badge and looked at Halladay, "But that doesn't explain you, my friend. What in the world possesses a sickly, two-bit, would-be, no account, card shark drunk such as yourself, and I mean no offense by that, to follow a disfigured, wrung-out, bitter, and let's face it, well-used prostitute halfway across the planet to seek out a man you have to know is your superior in every way?"

  Starr looked back at Winnie and clicked his tongue against his teeth, "I mean, if it's just sex, then I suppose men have done stupider things for worse looking whores, but God damn. There's other women out there, my friend. Take the money and go find them." He looked back at Halladay and shook his head sadly, "I'll try to leave enough of you alive to enjoy the romantic fire of her brother burning to death, right before she catches flame. That sound okay to you?" He pinned Tom Masters' deputy star on his vest lapel and stroked it with his finger, "A lawman! If only my mother could see me now."

  "I imagine she'd regret not smashing your head on the rocks as an infant even more than she already does," Halladay said.

  Starr laughed lightly and said, "Now that was just mean." He reached behind his back and drew his long Bowie knife to let its steel reflect in the light of the stained glass. "What do you say, blood-spitter? Want to dance?"

  Halladay drew his own knife and batted his eyelids, "Why, Mr. Starr, I've been waiting for you to ask me all night."

  Starr moved sideways in front of the preacher's stage, but Halladay remained inside the aisle, trying to draw Starr in and meet him head on. Starr sneered at the obvious ploy but came into the aisle anyway and said, "I'm gonna skin you alive just like the Beothuk did your wife, old-timer."

  Halladay's hand whipped toward Starr's face, the tip of the blade missing Starr's right eyeball by just a fraction of an inch but slicing through something that bled. Starr reared back to escape and clutched the side of his head, realizing his earlobe had been sliced in half.

  "Say that again, Johnny?" Halladay said. He tapped his ear and said, "I couldn't quite hear the last part."

  Starr ran forward in a rage, slashing the air viciously, hoping to catch a piece of flesh. Halladay scurried backwards to escape, but there was nowhere to go, no way to block the zig-zagging attack. He thrust his own blade forward, trying to stab Starr between lunges, but could not get close enough. Starr's blade came whirling down in an arc, aimed straight at the side of his throat and Halladay thrust his arm into the air, knowing it was about to hurt bad.

  The knife slit him open from wrist to elbow, feeling like somebody had yanked the zipper on his flesh with a sharp hook. His flayed meat drooped off of either side of the cut, looking like raw chicken. Halladay looked down in horrified wonder at the sight of his own pearl-white ulna. He staggered like a drunk, trying to keep his knife up even as his face glowed with heat and he felt the distinct sensation of shock approaching.

  Starr put both hands on his hips to catch his breath and said, "Phew, that's a bad cut. I bet that hurts."

  Halladay stumbled into the nearest pew and propped himself against it to keep upright. The tip of his knife was steadily dropping. "Preposterous. I was not using that arm anyway," he mumbled.

  Starr shook his head, "You sure are one tough son of a bitch, I will give you that much. But you see the problem is that you're too old, Doc. Too sick. Seen too much meanness and cruelty in this world and its left you ready to leave it. I'm doing you a favor, isn't that right?"

  The arm holding his knife finally dropped down against his side and Halladay felt it slip out of his fingers. He looked across the church at Winnie and whispered, "I'm sorry, darling. So very sorry."

  Starr put his hand on Halladay's arm and said, "She understands, Doc. Trust me. The old lion has his day in the sun until the young one gets strong enough to take over. It's perfectly natural. Youth and skill will always win the day." He kicked Halladay's knife into the shadows, listening to it spin across the floor and out of reach. He lifted Halladay's chin to look him in the face and said, "You taught me a few things, though, and I thank you for that. I'm going to make sure you die quick. Does that sound fair?"

  Halladay's lips opened to respond, but all that came out of him was a muted cough. Bile and blood rose in his throat and spilled out of his mouth, until his breathing became a watery gurgle. He slumped against the pew and tried sucking air through the blood clot and mucus in his lungs, only able to make a slight, high-pitched wheeze. Starr laughed sharply, "I cannot believe it. You picked now to finally have the big one?"

  Halladay beat his fist against his chest, trying to beat his lungs into proper operation, and found himself hunched forward against Starr, clutching
the man's vest to keep himself on his feet. Blood and spittle sprayed out of his mouth, covering Starr's clothing.

  "Oh, this is disgusting," Starr said, leaning his head out of the way to keep from getting splashed in the face.

  Halladay's fingers crept up Starr's chest until they came in contact with the spiny edges of Tom Master's metal deputy star. "Youth … and … skill," Halladay muttered.

  "That's right," Starr said. He slid his hand around Halladay's throat and lifted him back, wanting to look in his eyes when he jammed his knife's blade into the older man's chest. The edge of Halladay's mouth crept up into a smile so slight that it gave Starr pause.

  Halladay's hand whipped around Starr's arm, the sharp points of the deputy badge flashing in the air as he drove it into the soft spot just under Johnny Starr's jawline. Metal ground against bone as it sunk in, deep and true.

  The two men stood face-to-face, staring at one another. Halladay cleared his throat of blood and spit and wiped his hand across his face to clean it off. "Youth and skill just met age and treachery, son."

  Johnny Starr opened his mouth to speak, but managed to produce nothing but bloody spit bubbles. Starr's eyes rolled back in his head and he fell straight back onto the church floor.

  Tom Masters' badge was stuck in Starr's jugular so deep it was like unplugging a hole in a barrel when he pulled it loose. Halladay stepped over Starr's convulsing arms and legs and pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe the deputy star clean. He rubbed and rubbed as he walked up the aisle toward Winnie, not stopping until he could make out the number six.

  9. Writing This to Say, in a Gentle Way, Thank You, but No

  The coffee was hot and sweet, much sweeter than he preferred. He realized he just wasn't used to drinking it without any whiskey. Plates and silverware rattled as Winnie came down the steps carrying a silver tray that was still loaded with food. Halladay sipped his coffee and frowned at the tray as she came into the kitchen.

  "He said he wasn't hungry," Winnie explained.