by Chuck Buda
James landed hard on the floor. He had used all his strength and momentum to strike Preacher. It carried him past the man and he slid on his wounded arm right past Carson. James rolled to his side, ready for another attack. He was shocked to find an unworldly vision before his eyes.
Preacher clutched at his gaping throat as waves of blood poured out. Too much blood for one human body to contain. It was the blood of all Preacher’s victims, flowing out of his unholy temple. His fingers tried desperately to hold the flaps of skin together. It was only the beginning.
Preacher tried to croak out a message which was garbled by the incessant waterfall of blood soaking through the gash in his neck. His black eyes rolled back in his skull, and a powerful wind gusted from his speechless mouth. The flight of hundreds, possibly thousands of souls flooded the chapel air, swirling for an escape. The sound of screaming souls, tormented by evil and darkness, followed the currents around the room. The chapel filled with the gases of ethereal lost spirits, forcing James to keep his head down or risk having it removed from his shoulders.
James huddled over Carson, pinning his best friend to the floor. He shouted as loud as he could. He told Carson to stay down and keep his eyes closed as the maelstrom picked up strength above them. The swirling became faster and more powerful, picking up items in the room and carrying them with it like a twister. It spiraled tighter and the screams funneled into a high-pitched whistle. The register increased until the twister was the width of a pencil and whistle higher than a songbird’s melody.
Then it was still.
The twister found an escape through the door which was slightly ajar. The noise dwindled away with the wind.
James felt Carson trembling underneath him. He lifted his face to look around. The chapel was still full of the dead. But Carson was alive. James squeezed Carson into his chest and cried. His arm hurt so bad. But he was willing to ignore it so he could hold on to Carson for a while longer.
Chapter 49
James and Carson spent the rest of the night taking care of Sarah. Her head had been badly bruised and she dozed in and out of consciousness for a few hours. They sat watch over her to make sure she stabilized. It was hard to tell. James wasn’t a doctor, but he did what the town doctor told him to.
After the disastrous battle with Preacher, the folks in town who hadn’t shown up for the memorial service came running to help. There would be so much work to do to clean up the damaged church and take care of the dead. The final count was sixty-seven dead bodies. Two people were lucky enough to walk away with only injuries. Gunderson had been one of the lucky ones.
The large man suffered burns, but mostly bruises and scratches. Mentally, he would require longer to heal. James had found Gunderson crawling on his belly through the rubble. He was in a daze and kept crying out for his brother. James found it strange since everything Gunderson told him about his brother had to do with all the fighting they did. Seems Gunderson and his brother fought over everything. But he must still love his kin. He repeated his name for nearly an hour after things settled down.
Carson had been covered in blood. James nearly jumped out of his skin, checking every square inch of his little friend for wounds. Then he realized the blood was Preacher’s. Carson had bitten into the holy man’s leg so hard, the profuse bleeding painted Carson’s face and clothing red like a white-washed picket fence...if it were painted red. Carson still lumbered around shell-shocked. He kept explaining how horrible it was to taste someone’s blood, too. James knew Carson would relive the terrifying act for quite some time. It would probably be harder to recover from the tragic event because of his fragile state of mind. James made a note to keep a close eye on his little buddy.
The Mayor had shown up after word reached his home. He appeared in his formal attire without a dress shirt. His red long johns were visible underneath his top coat. The Mayor inspected the scene and took careful notes of the names of the dead. He wanted to personally console each family who lost loved ones. A few of the families were slaughtered in whole inside the chapel. The Mayor licked his pencil and muttered how he had no idea who their next of kin was and where they could be found. James had never met the Mayor before this night. He thought he seemed like a decent person. James wondered, if he were so decent then how come he hadn’t attended the memorial service for Eleanor. Before the Mayor left, he asked James if he would consider sticking around to replace Marshal Kaden Holder. The Mayor explained if James could handle a demonic entity then he could surely handle some drunken shenanigans at the saloon and an occasional cattle thief. James rejected the offer. The Mayor tried to sweeten the deal but James cut him off and told the Mayor his intentions were to put Dodge City behind him. For good.
James thought about Eleanor. He missed her and he still felt horrible about not getting a chance to make things right with her. His last memory of her was their bickering and fighting. James hoped she could tell how he felt about her, even though it was too late. At this point, he was so exhausted, James just wanted to bury her body and move on. Too many images haunted his mind.
The men from the town carried the bodies out to the street and lined them up. The Undertaker complained it was too dark at that hour to measure them for boxes. So he and his men made some rough estimates and left to begin work on building a bunch of caskets. James heard the Undertaker tell one of his men they would have to make do and stuff people inside the boxes if the measurements were right. James was glad he hadn’t died in this town because he wouldn’t want to be treated so callously by the Undertaker.
The church emptied and the noisy bustling of men outside dissipated. With all the bodies outside in the street, the whole building still reeked of blood and smoke inside. James tried to keep Carson out of the chapel, where the blood was so think in some spots, it pooled up an inch thick. Puddles of crimson filled the chapel floor. And the walls were covered with blood and eye goo. James had to choke down vomit a couple times as he supervised the emptying of the building.
Carson drifted off as they watched over Sarah. The circular burn marks on his face were exact replicas of Preacher’s fiery knuckles. James hoped the marks would heal completely so Carson wouldn’t have to live with a daily reminder of the night.
James felt the throbbing underneath his bandaged forearm. He chuckled to himself that he had become familiar with these wounds. Claws in his biceps, daggers in his forearms. James pictured himself as a scar-infested man, someday showing off all his battle wounds to his grandchildren. The thought brought visions of Eleanor back to mind.
Would he have settled down with her and started a family? It was possible. It would have been an uphill climb though. His mother wasn’t exactly fond of Eleanor. James liked to think he could have helped his mother see the good characteristics about her. After all, she loved James and wanted to take care of him. Or did she? James wondered if he really knew how Eleanor thought about him. She was definitely interested in him, the way she kissed him and followed him all the way to Dodge City. He’d never know for sure now.
James leaned his head back against the wall. He watched Carson sleep with his little mouth open. His mother slept quietly. James stared at her chest every so often to make sure he saw her breathing. The darkness played tricks on his eyes and once in a while he had to get up to put his hand on her chest. Or put his cheek in front of her face so he could feel her breath.
As he worried about his mother and Carson, James fell asleep. The exhaustion caught up to him. There was no more denying the inevitable.
Chapter 50
“Now, look what the cat drug in.”
James forced a smile and walked across the Trading Post floor. The shop was empty today. James knew the folks in town were either dead or busy preparing the dead for burial. All of Dodge City was under a dark cloud, even though the sky was blue and clear.
“You’re late for work.” Gunderson snickered. He pretended to look around James’ lower body for Carson. “And you ain’t brought your shadow with yo
u?”
James laughed. He rubbed his hands together, trying to avoid the awkwardness which hung in the air. “Nah. He’s finishing up.” James hooked a thumb over his shoulder.
Gunderson stared at James, nodding. “Well, out with it. I can tell you have something weighing on you. No sense holding it in.”
James removed his hat and stared at his boots. He promised himself he wouldn’t cry. Some promises were hard to keep. He bit the inside of his cheek. “We’re heading out. Today.”
Gunderson watched James. James glanced at Gunderson’s face in between checking out his boots and the items for sale on the tables around the Trading Post.
“Heading out? Where you headin’?”
James brought his eyes back to Gunderson. He shrugged and pursed his lips. “Don’t know quite yet. Reckon we’ll find out when we get there.”
Gunderson flicked something he scratched out of his eyebrow. “Sounds like a solid plan, boy. I can see you put a lot of thought into it.” He chuckled.
James laughed. “Yeah.”
The silence between them was charged. James had so much he wanted to say but the fear of breaking down into tears kept him tight-lipped.
“Let me help you out.” Gunderson squeezed under the counter top and stepped up to James. “You came to quit work. Your shadow does whatever you do. That’s what shadows are for. And you don’t really want to leave town. But something inside tells you ya still gotta move on.” He tilted his head to the side. “Sound about right?”
James smiled and faltered. He nodded and looked away.
“How’s your mama doin’? She’s good enough to travel already?”
“She, uh, got some rest. Seems fine so far today. We’d just as soon get moving than stick around.”
Gunderson seemed to measure James. “I heard the Mayor asked you to stay on as Marshal. Boy, that man is dumber than a box of rocks.” Gunderson laughed and slapped his leg. James joined in, even if the joke was at his expense.
“He’s even dumber than that. He offered us the church building to keep and restore.” They both laughed hard at James’ admission.
The laughter died down. “Free real estate, James. That’s worth somethin’, ain’t it?”
James shook his head. “Not that building. I told him to burn it to the ground. Make sure the evil is gone for good.”
Gunderson punched James’ shoulder. “Wise decision, boy. Mighty wise.” He turned around and reached under the counter to remove a half empty bottle of whiskey. He bit the cork out and spit it into his hand. James wondered why he didn’t just use his fingers to remove the cork. Then he reminded himself how nasty Gunderson’s fingers were.
Gunderson raised the bottle. “To friends. Good friends. Even if they live far and wide.” He guzzled the whiskey and snapped his lips with satisfaction. He handed the bottle to James.
James accepted the bottle even though he wasn’t particular to drinking. He thought of wiping the top of the bottle with the back of his shirt to rid Gunderson’s filth. Then he figured the alcohol probably killed whatever lived on or in Gunderson. James hoisted the bottle. “To family. Those who share your blood. And those who treat you like blood.” He downed a big gulp and choked into the back of his sleeve.
Gunderson cackled and yanked the bottle out of James’ hands. He put the cork back in and slammed the bottle on the counter. “You take care of yourself, James. And that family of yours. Nice to have a great family.” Gunderson put a finger to his lips as if he remembered something. “And mind your brother. The Lord don’t give many chances to keep a brother. You still have one, so...” The thought lingered unfinished. But James understood Gunderson’s feelings about brothers. He could tell there were unresolved issues between Gunderson and his own kin. And it weighed on him heavily, even if he never came out and admitted as much.
James hugged Gunderson. Gunderson clutched him back. The smell of the large man’s body odor was nauseating. But James took a big, long whiff anyway. He wanted to remember that smell. It would remind him of home.
They let go of each other. Gunderson cleared his throat a few times, pretending he was choking on the whiskey. James knew he was fighting back the tears. James just let them flow. His eyes filled to overflowing. And as they ran down his cheeks, new tears filled in where the last ones just sat. He backed up a few steps, shoving his hands in the back pockets of his dungarees.
He tried to say goodbye but the sound only croaked in his throat. Gunderson waved him away. He couldn’t seem to get words out either. Gunderson turned around and slipped under the counter top. He went into the back room without ever turning around again.
It was the last time James ever saw Gunderson.
James left the Trading Post, taking a deep breathe to clear his heart and his mind. He had to finish up a few things before they left Dodge City. He couldn’t wait to get away. Nothing but bad memories survived the big town. James winced at the sun washed streets as he took another look around. The usual bustling madness had become a sad emptiness. The smell of charred meat and wood lingered in the air. James wrinkled his nose and set off across the street. It was time to gather Carson and his mother before the memorial service started. James didn’t want to stick around long enough to see it.
The memorial had started for one and ended with many. James didn’t want to mourn Eleanor a second time. The first time had been plenty painful.
Chapter 51
James stared off at the setting sun. It was early evening and soon it would be dark. The first thing they had done was collect kindling and chop wood for the fire. Then James had setup a temporary shelter. It was a makeshift lean-to which he had learned about from one of the customers at the Trading Post. He thought the idea was great when he heard the man tell Gunderson about it. James wished he had known about the concept on prior journeys.
He lost himself in his thoughts. Carson gave him time to drift off as his little buddy collected the cards and re-shuffled the deck. Carson had whipped James three times already. It didn’t bother James. He kept Gunderson’s brotherly sentiments close to his heart. A whipping at cards by Carson was welcome to James. Any day of the week.
Hero life had been troublesome so far. It felt like a hundred years ago when James and Carson would hide under the big tree root and dream about Wyatt Earp. James couldn’t even recall the last time he heard a Wyatt Earp story. They had been so busy traveling and working. He secretly hoped his father was still alive. Still fighting the good fight. James wanted to catch up to his old man. In person. And in reputation.
Now he wasn’t so sure this was the life for him. Too much had been lost. Sacrificed. Risked. Being a hero and fighting bad guys was more than an adventure. It was a danger. And his mother and Carson were casualties. James couldn’t have that. He had decisions to make. If he still felt compelled to travel the west, ridding the earth of evil, then he would seriously have to consider leaving his family behind.
That thought hurt James too much.
But what would be worse? Leaving them behind and missing them, knowing they were far from harm’s way? Or bringing them with him? And losing them in battle, because of his crusades? Either way, James wasn’t comfortable with the thought or the potential outcomes.
There would be tomorrow.
For now.
James heard Carson prompting him to pick up his cards. James smiled and looked at his mother. Sarah rested under the lean-to, near the warmth of the fire. She smiled back at James. Neither one of them had spoken since their last argument. The damaged feelings still festered on both sides. James knew they would get around to it. But the time was for healing. Talking could come later.
James scooped up the cards and fanned them out. He felt optimistic this time. He had two queens, two jacks and a nine of clubs. He tamped down a smile which strained at his lips. He figured it was the best hand Carson had dealt him in a long time. The excitement of picking up his first win over Carson was bittersweet. He didn’t want to gloat over his little fri
end so soon after what they had just gone through. On the other hand, wins were hard to come by. And James had to enjoy the moment. It might be another few years before he got the chance again. Carson called.
He put down three of a kind. Kings.
James rolled his eyes and tossed his cards in the dirt. “Gee whiz.”
Carson giggled. He started to say something but James cut him off.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I should have paid attention.” James smirked at Carson with heavy sarcasm. Carson continued to giggle as he dusted the cards off and stacked them in his hands.
“Back to square one!” James shouted at the dusky sky.
Carson lost it. He rolled off the log and laughed so hard, he farted a few times. James couldn’t help himself. He laughed hard too. Then he rolled off his log and landed on top of Carson. The boys laughed and wrestled in a plume of dust.
Sarah watched them play. She smiled and brushed a tear away from her eye.
James kept shouting, “Back to square one” as he crushed the giggling Carson underneath.
In the distance, a lone coyote howled a warning to his brethren. It smelled evil in the air...
Continue the Adventure!
I hope you enjoyed the third book of The Son of Earp series. To receive updates on future releases go to:
I wanna be an Earper!
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Director’s Cut
The Son of Earp Series has quickly become one of my favorites. The third installment, Summoner of Souls, only solidified my feelings.