Guns of Seneca 6 02 Old-Time Lawmen Read online

  Old-Time Lawmen:

  (Chamber 2 of the Guns of Seneca Six Saga)

  Bernard Schaffer

  Published by Apiary Society Publications

  Edited by Laurie Laliberte

  Copyright 2012 Bernard Schaffer

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  ***

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. No reference to any real person, living or dead, should be inferred.

  Table of Contents

  Sam Clayton's Colt Defender

  Old-Time Lawmen

  Sneak Peek at Magnificent Guns of Seneca 6

  About the Author

  Old-Time Lawmen

  Jem Clayton and Anna Willow took the long way around, glad to be alone, glad to have a peaceful moment after a long day of chaos. Both of them had other people's blood on them. The air still smelled like cordite and flop sweat. All the lights were dark along Pioneer Way and even the bars and whorehouses had shut down. If anything was a clear sign of trouble in Seneca 6, that was it.

  Anna brushed against Jem's hand and said, “So tell me the fate of Mr. Elijah Harpe.”

  “A person like you wouldn’t understand, Anna. Someone like you helps people. Someone like me does the opposite.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less from the baddest man in the world,” Anna said.

  Jem grinned shyly, “You’ve been waiting twenty years to fire that one back at me, haven’t you?”

  “Maybe. Do you remember Zeke that used to work for my father?”

  Jem nodded.

  “Did you ever hear what happened to me?”

  “I heard enough.”

  Anna’s voice was quiet when she said, “When I was a little girl, I trusted everybody. People acted so nice to me after my mother died, I just assumed that’s how they really were. Zeke told me I was special. He paid attention to me. Sometimes I wonder if I did something to make him think it was okay to do what he did.”

  “You were just a kid, Anna. Of course you didn’t,” Jem said.

  “The worst thing about it was that the nice man who treated me so kindly told me he would kill me and my father if I told anyone. I believed him, Jem. I looked in his eyes and I saw evil. I never could tell your daddy what he did to me. Miss Katey had to do all the talking for me, and your daddy hauled Zeke off to the penitentiary.”

  Jem looked off in the distance. “That’s the story I heard too.”

  “Except Zeke never was at the penitentiary.”

  Jem did not speak.

  “I checked up on him a few years ago, just to see what became of him. The warden said there had never been a prisoner there by that name. So it leaves me with the question as to what became of the man that stole my innocence. Your daddy didn’t seem the type to let a man like that go in the desert, now did he?”

  Jem shook his head, “No. I don’t suppose.”

  She put her hand in his. “So, you’re wrong. Someone like me would understand.”

  ~***~

  It was one of the three.

  In this, she walked at his side, not speaking, eyes cast toward the peaks of Coramide Canyon. Sagebrush decorated the cliffs and crags above, their silvery fullness catching the first light of the rising sun like fire flashing across the mountainside.

  It was one of the three, and Sam knew it would end. He turned to her and moved the hair from her eyes, forcing himself to smile even as she looked away. “Would you like something to put in your hair? Will that cheer you up? I’ll get it,” he said. “Don’t move,” he said, holding up his hands to keep her in place. “Don’t move.”

  Sam bolted up the hill toward the sagebrush and grabbed the first handful of flowers and snapped them off at the stem. He turned with them triumphant, waving them in the air, but she was gone. It was one of the three. They all ended the same.

  Sam woke up grasping the empty pillow lying next to him on the bed. He sat up in the silent bedroom, bathed in the pale blue light of Seneca’s twin moons. Wind pushed the meadow grass from side to side through the bedroom’s window, revealing a white wooden cross staked into the ground at the end of the property. There were words written on either side of the cross, reading Beloved Wife, Beloved Mother.

  Sam got out of bed, needing to be up and moving, needing to escape from the places the dream dragged him into. He headed for the kitchen and looked into the first bedroom he passed, seeing his little girl sitting up in her bed. Tangled ringlets of hair spilled into her eyes. “Did I wake you up, princess?”

  Claire shook her head and said, “No. I’m just up.”

  “Are you hungry? I can fix you something before I go in.”

  She slid out of the bed, tiny bare feet catching the edges of the long nightgown as she padded across the wooden floor to her dollhouse. “I’m okay. I’ll just wait for him to get up.”

  Sam got down on one knee and opened his arms. “I’ll be back soon, baby girl. Be good for your brother.” He took her hand and pressed his chin into her palm. She squirmed but the squirm became a sigh of relief and she said, “It’s not stubbly.”

  “I shaved last night just for you.” He kissed the top of her head and moved the hair out of her eyes. He went into his son’s room and saw a foot sticking out of the bed, dangling over the floor. “Hey, Jem, I’m going into work early,” Sam said. “Mind your sister and fix her some food.”

  The boy rolled over and yanked the blanket over his head.

  Sam patted him on the shoulder, “Don’t stay in this bed too long, now. You got plenty to do today.”

  “Ok,” Jem muttered.

  Pioneer Way connected the Clayton house to the settlement’s main entrance by way of a ten-mile stretch of dirt road. The Sheriff’s Office was the first building after the electrified security gate, and it was surrounded by bars, banks, and brothels. Sam enjoyed the morning ride into work. It gave him the chance to look the entire town over and make sure nobody stole it overnight.

  If given a choice, he preferred to arrive just after sunrise. Any later than that and the wagons would bunch up against one another at the front gate, eager to get out of the wasteland. Crowds of pedestrians would fill up the square, and it would just be a matter of time before one of the miners getting off the midnight shift tied a load on and did something stupid. It was like clockwork. Predictable as the heat. But before dawn, for a little while, it was quiet.

  Sam leaned back in his chair and sipped a mug of coffee, reading the deputies reports that were scattered across his desk. Nothing stood out. A miner got cited for taking a leak in front of a few women. Three patrons of the Proud Lady got in a dust up over one of the working girls when one of them could not grasp the concept of “First come, first served.” Sam lifted up one of the reports to read it closer when he saw it mentioned Beothuk savages less than a mile away from the settlement.

  The thunder of hooves broke his concentration and he looked up to see Deputy Tom Masters riding hard in his direction. Sam set his coffee down and headed onto the porch. “Trouble, Sheriff. At the Willow Funeral Home,” Masters said. “Old Man Willow’s got Zeke trapped in the basement.”

  “His assistant? Why?”

  “Something happened with Willow’s little girl, Anna.” The deputy’s destrier snorted and spun around impatiently as Sam climbed up on his own. Sam snapped the reins and both men took off, kicking the sides of their beasts until they were in full gallop, flying down Pioneer Way so fast that their reflections in the storefronts were jus
t clouds of dust and flinging dirt.

  When they arrived at the Willow’s, Sam jumped off his ride at the porch steps and had his weapon drawn before hitting the ground. He bent low and ducked behind the front door, calling out, “Erazamus? It’s Sheriff Clayton. Where you at?”

  There was no response. Sam pushed the door open and waited, leaning over to peek inside the living room. “Erazamus? Anna?”

  “Back here, Sheriff,” a man called out from the rear of the house. “You hear that, Zeke? The Sheriff is here, an’ he’s gonna strung you up in my front yard until buzzards come for your eyeballs, you pervert.”

  Crying was coming from the upstairs bedroom. That would be Anna, Sam thought. He kept moving toward the rear of the house, keeping his Defender ready, when he saw Erazamus Willow standing by the closed cellar door with a baseball bat in his hand. “Thank God you’re here,” Willow whispered. “I gave him a whack across the head with this, but he ran down there.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He violated my daughter, Sheriff.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I was asleep when I heard Anna hollering for him to get off of her. When I went into her room, I saw him standing there and I cracked him with this. He fled down here. Innocent men don’t run, Sheriff.”

  “When you’re hitting them with a bat, they do,” Sam said. “Did you see him doing anything to Anna?”

  “It was dark and she was crying and carrying on. I thought it was more important to get him away from her, thank you very much.”

  Sam patted the undertaker on the arm and said, “It’s all right, Erazamus. You done good. Take a step back for a second.” Sam opened the cellar door and said, “Zeke? It’s Sheriff Clayton. You all right down there?”

  “That crazy bastard tried to bash my brains in!”

  “I know. That ain’t gonna happen again. You sit tight until I call you up, understand?”

  “I didn’t do nothin’, Sheriff.”

  “Okay. Just give me a minute and I’ll be back. I’m gonna leave Tom up here to make sure nobody comes down and bothers you. You stay put till I say otherwise.”

  “Yes, sir,” Zeke said.

  Sam turned to Tom and said, “I’ll be back.”

  Doctor Royce Halladay was standing at the top of the stairs, clutching a bloody handkerchief. He cocked his head at the open door in the hallway where his wife, Katey, was sitting with her arm around Anna Willow. Sam looked at the bloody cloth and said, “Tell me that ain’t from her, Doc.”

  Halladay lifted an eyebrow at the Sheriff and was about to speak when he clutched his gut and coughed violently. He pressed the handkerchief to this mouth and caught the bloody spittle that erupted out of it. Halladay cleared his throat and wiped his face. “Would I be standing here if it were, Sam?”

  Sam took off his hat and went into the room, but Anna turned away from him and dropped her face into Katey’s lap. Katey stroked her hair gently and said, “She thinks you’re going to arrest her.”

  Sam bent down in front of them both and said, “What the heck made you think a silly thing like that?”

  Anna shook her head, and Katey said, “You want me to tell him?”

  There was no answer. Katey said, “Zeke told her that if anyone found out what happened, they could both go to jail.”

  “Come on, now,” Sam said. “You known me since you were a baby. You know both my kids. Shoot, Jem’s only a few years younger than you and Claire looks up to you like a big sister. Jail’s just for bad people, darling. You ain’t that.”

  Anna wiped her eyes and nose on Katey’s skirt, leaving smears across the fabric. Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and said, “Take this before you get snot all over the place.”

  Anna smiled weakly and took the cloth from him. “Thank you, Mr. Clayton.”

  Katey patted her on the back. “Anna, tell Sam what Zeke did before your daddy came in.”

  Anna looked down. “Nothing happened.”

  Sam bent low to catch her eye, waiting for her to realize he was looking at her. He leaned close, like he was trying to see the fine details of her irises. “What do I see in there?” he said. “Something different than what you just said?”

  Anna mumbled something under her breath. “What was that?” Sam said, looking from her to Katey.

  “He said he’d come here in the middle of the night and kill us if I told. He said he knows how to get into the house a dozen different ways and slit both our throats.”

  “That’s a damn lie,” Sam said.

  “How do you know?” Anna said.

  “Because that’s what bad people do, darling. They try scaring you out of doing what’s right. It’s called intimidation of a witness. I’ll put him in jail just for that.”

  “Will he stay in jail?” Anna said.

  Sam opened his mouth to speak but stopped short. He pursed his lips together in thought and then said, “I can do my best.”

  “Well that’s not good enough,” Anna said.

  ***

  Zeke wrapped his hands around the cell door’s bars and leaned back, trying to shake them. “How soon before I can get the hell out of here?”

  Sam kicked his boots off the desk and sat up, fishing in his vest for his pocket watch. “Doc Halladay should be finished his examination soon. After that, it depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On what the Doc finds out.”

  “Well he ain’t gonna find nothing.”

  “I hope, for your sake, you’re right,” Sam said.

  “I’m gonna tell people how badly you been mistreating me. Holding me here with no proof of nothing is a goddamn disgrace!”

  Sam snapped his fingers at the cell and said, “Sit your ass down and shut your hole. What I have and don’t have is none of your concern.”

  “The hell it ain’t!” Zeke shouted. He slumped onto the cell cot and stuck his fists under his chin, muttering, “The hell it ain’t.”

  Sam saw his deputy come out of the doctor’s office across the street and reached into his desk drawer. He stuck a pinch of sweetweed cut into his lower lip and sucked on its bitter essence until he’d worked up a mouthful of juice. He walked out onto the porch and spit a black arc over the railing. “Give me the good news, Tom.”

  “I wish I could,” Tom said. “Doc Halladay said it’s clear something happened, but he can’t say for certain. Anna still ain’t talking.”

  Sam chewed and spat and wiped off his mouth. He chewed again and spat again. He started to chew once more, then stopped and said, “Prepare the prisoner for transport to Seneca 5 to see the judge.”

  Tom Masters looked up at him, not moving until the Sheriff looked back at him. “Yes, sir,” Tom said. The deputy walked into the office and pointed at Zeke, “Get your hands up against that wall.”

  “I’m going to tell that judge what you been treating me like,” Zeke said, turning around and sticking his hands against the bricks above the cot.

  Tom stuck the iron key into the door’s lock and turned it. “You stay like that until I say otherwise, else I’ll shoot you in the spine and leave you pissing in a bag for the rest of your life.”

  Zeke giggled, “I bet you’d like that. We’ll see how tough you are after I see that judge.”

  Tom snatched Zeke’s wrists and pulled them behind his back and slapped cuffs on them. He leaned close to Zeke’s ear and said, “There ain’t no judge at Seneca 5, stupid.”

  ***

  Sam plucked a sagebrush flower and twirled it under his nose, inhaling the fragrance. He crumpled the stem in his fingers and blew the leaves into the wind, watching them sail off the edge of the cliff. He checked the rope and it was taut. “Can you hear me down there?”

  The rope was looped around a tree stump and stretched across the ground all the way to the side of the cliff where it vanished. Sam walked to the edge of the cliff and looked down, seeing the bottom of Zeke’s feet. Zeke’s ankles were raw and bloody under the rope�
�s tight knot as he swayed side to side in the wind. Sam nudged the rope with his boot, “You didn’t pass out on me, did you, boy?”

  Zeke lifted his head to look up at Sam. His face was purple and swollen and he spat out grunting noises when he tried speaking.

  “Zeke?” Sam said.

  “What?”

  “Is that a yes or a no that you can hear me down there?”

  “Go to hell!”

  Sam reached down and gave the rope a shake, making Zeke bounce up and down on it like a fish on a line, making him scream until he went hoarse. Zeke begged and pleaded with Sam to stop and the Sheriff stood up and wiped off his hands. “You’re gonna wiggle yourself straight into a freefall if you don’t quit messing around.”

  Zeke curled his head up to his chest then straightened himself out and breathed in as much air as he could fit in his lungs. “HELP ME SOMEBODY HELP ME!”

  Sam tilted his head back and looked up at the streaks of purple and orange across the sky as the sun descended. “You’re gonna need to save your voice for the drop, Zeke. It’s a doozie.”

  Both of Seneca’s moons crested the mountaintops of Coramide Canyon, full and shining with white light that showed off the frozen rivers and craters etched across their surfaces. The canyon turned the color of gold. Sam pulled out a wad of chewed sweetweed from his lower lip and chucked it over the side of the cliff. He reached down for a jug of water and held it out for Zeke to see. “You thirsty?”

  Zeke’s face turned up and Sam splashed him with water. “Hold steady now,” Sam said. He let the water trickle out and watched Zeke squirm to try and catch each drop with his mouth.

  “Give me more, Sam,” Zeke gasped. “I’m gonna die of thirst. I’m withering inside.”

  Sam was about to tip the jug again but stopped halfway. “Why’d you violate that little girl?”

  “I didn’t violate anybody. Old Man Willow is a lunatic!”

  “She says you did.”

  “That’s a damn lie. I woke up in the middle of the night to piss and I heard her calling for me from the bedroom. ‘Zeke, Zeke, come here,’ she says. ‘What’s wrong, Miss Anna?’ I says. She tells me she had a bad dream and needs me to stay with her a minute.”