Wallows shouldered his way past the rest of them to get down the steps, and they all stood there looking at one another when the Sheriff's voice called out, "Send in the next unhappy customer!"
Two rusted Colt Defenders inside a long, rectangular glass shadow box, hung on the sheriff's wall. There were twelve corroded bullets set up around the guns like small soldiers standing guard. The guns were crossed at the barrels just beneath an ancient-looking gun belt. The rot had been scraped off and the leather rubbed down and cleaned, but it was never oiled. It looks better like this, he thought.
On either side of the guns were two small portraits. A handsome, serious-looking man with a mustache at one end and a young, pretty woman in a Sunday dress on the other. Jem Clayton put his hand against the wall and leaned forward to study the woman's face. He wondered if the only reason he remembered what she looked like was because of that portrait. He couldn't picture her laughing or crying or looking any other way except she did in this one instant that some photographer had captured for all time.
The other one was easy. Jem saw that man at every turn. Every time he sat down at the desk in the Sheriff's Office, it was like he had to excuse the ghost of Sam Clayton out of the chair first. Sam's boots creaking on the floorboards. Sam in the smell of the cell door's iron bars and the cedar-lined walls. Sam sitting on the desk looking down at him saying, "Don't you look fancy? I guess today was dress-up day?"
He jumped out of the chair and went for the door, shaking his arms and legs like he was trying to shrug off imaginary cobwebs and dust. The settlement's security gate beeped and the electricity field shimmered in the harsh noon sun before deactivating. Fred Walters came out of the gatehouse holding his clipboard and waved a two-destrier wagon inside. "Come right to me," he said, waving them in. "All right, stop."
When Walters walked he hunched over at the waist, but he glared up at the driver and said, "What brings you back to Seneca 6?"
The driver laid his steering straps across his waist and said, "I come to see about work and to attend to some affairs."
"It says you ain't got no passengers?"
"No, sir."
"Why you got this big ol' wagon then?"
The driver lifted his hat and swept his sweaty hair back, then smeared down his thick mustache with his wet fingers. "I won it in a bet and was going to see if I could sell it. Ain't got no use for a wagon, but it's mine all the same."
Fred Walters frowned at the closed passenger door and then looked back at where Jem stood on the Sheriff's Office porch. Jem propped his foot up on the railing and nodded silently at the old man. Walters nodded back and said, "Open her up."
"If you say so." The driver jumped down and went around the side of the wagon. He opened up the side door and the rear hatch, showing that they were empty. "You satisfied?"
"So I am," Fred Walters said. He jotted a note down on his clipboard and said, "Carry on, Mr. Doolin."
The driver got back up into the wagon's forward carry and snapped the reins, going slow as he passed where Jem stood. "How you doing this morning, Sheriff?" he called out.
"I'm doing all right. Yourself?"
"Pretty good so far," Doolin said. "You look a little younger and more fit than that last time I was here."
"That's probably not the only thing different about me," Jem said.
"Is that right?" Doolin said. He smiled quickly and turned back to check the road, "You all certainly seem a bit less friendly than the last time, I'll give you that."
"We're plenty friendly," Jem said. "Normally."
"I'm gonna go down here to the bank if that's all right with you. You wanna come watch me to make sure I behave?"
Jem stepped forward to respond when he saw something from the corner of his eye that stopped him. A dirty-looking little boy looked up at him from the street, staring up at the porch while he smeared his mouth all over a honey-stick. "Hi, lawman," the boy said.
Across the street, Doolin let out a high-pitched laugh and snapped the reins to get his destrier's moving. Jem looked back to see the wagon drive away. "How you doing, son? Being good?"
"There you are!" a woman said as she came out of the store. She snatched the child's hand and shook him by the arm, "You run off like that again and I'm gonna have the mean mister Sheriff put you in jail forever!" She looked up at Jem and said, "Ain't that right, Sheriff?"
Jem watched the woman silently for a moment, then glanced down at the boy. Whatever had been there before was replaced by fear now. He smiled gently and said, "You listen to your mama, partner. You hear?"
"Yes, sir," the boy said.
Jem excused himself and went down the street to see where the wagon headed off to when he saw a darkly-dressed woman come around the corner of the Halladay Family Practice building. Anna Willow locked eyes with him momentarily before she turned away and fit her key into the office's door.
Jem sighed and crossed the street after her. "Anna? Wait up."
The screen door slammed shut behind her. Jem cursed under his breath as he turned to see Old Fred Walters hold his hand against the side of his mouth and shout, "Women! They're all screwy!"
Jem ignored him and rapped his knuckles on the bulletholes scarring the door's wooden frame. "Anna?"
No answer.
He opened the screen door without walking inside. "Hey? I don't want to come in uninvited. Can we talk?"
The large framed image of Sheriff Sam Clayton looked back at him. The damn ghost was everywhere. Anna came down the stairs into her office and said, "What part of never speak to me again wasn't clear, Jem?"
"All of it," he said.
"Well I think it was plain enough."
She turned away from him but he reached for her arm and caught her by the elbow. "Anna, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."
"Is that what you think? I'm some silly woman whose feelings are hurt?"
"Okay," he said. "So then why won't you talk to me?"
"Because you lied to me, Jem. You lied to all of us! You came here pretending to be something and the whole time you had no intention of actually following through with it."
"That's not true."
"Do you have any idea what kind of a damn fool I feel like? I waited all those years for you to come back, just to have you tell me you aren't ready."
Jem looked at the picture on the wall from the corner of his eye. "Waiting for me, right?"
"Oh, for heaven's sake. When are you going to stop? People loved your father. It doesn’t mean they love you any less."
"They stare at me like I'm some kind of ghost, Anna. You do it too."
"What the hell do you expect? You show up here after twenty years and take over right where Sam left off. You're almost his age when he died. It's kind of inevitable."
"I don't know what I expected," he whispered. "Not this."
Anna shrugged and said, "Well I guess that's it then. Did you tell Bart you were quitting?"
"I told you I hadn't made up my mind. Why do you have to act like I already vanished in the night?"
She glared at him, "Ever since that conversation, I've been waking up thinking you already did, Jem Clayton. Because that's what you do. You leave."
The Sheriff was gone.
Doolin looked over his shoulder and wiped his face again, clearing sweat from his eyes in order to steer the wagon alongside the bank. He turned the destriers to face the road. Doolin dropped down from the seat and went around the side quickly, then opened the door and reached in to knock twice.
A hatch popped open on the floor and lifted into the air as two men crawled out of the wagon's false bottom. Doolin shut the door again and pretended to be checking the windows and wheels as he listened to the men moving around inside. He waited until there were settled and opened the door again just a crack, just enough to peek inside while he blocked anyone else from seeing. "There's a new gold star," Doolin whispered.
The larger of the two men inside the carriage leaned forward and snarled, "The
hell do you mean, new? I paid you good money to get the information about this place."
George Dunn looked at his older brother and then back at Doolin with a confused expression made all the more disturbing by his sloped brow. He stuttered when he said, "You said it was prime…pickins."
"It still is," Doolin hissed. "I put him in his place and he didn't sum up the courage to say boo back to me. Now get ready."
Calvin Dunn held up his hand, "Is he fat and old like the last one?"
"What's the difference? There's three of us and one of him. We're surrounded by a bunch of old people and children."
"Prime p-p-p-pickins, Cal," George Dunn said again, swallowing when he spoke the words like he was trying to gulp down whatever delicacy they signified to him.
"Say it one more time, pudding head," Doolin said.
Calvin Dunn jammed a large finger at Doolin's face and said, "Go easy on him, Bill. You was up front all nice and comfy while we was cooking in this sweatbox back here."
"Fine," Doolin said. "Listen, that gold star ain't nothin'. Let's get what we come for."
Calvin Dunn reached into the compartment at his feet and brought up a shotgun. "We gonna show these clowns how we do business."
Anna threw up her hands and said, "Then there's nothing else for us to talk about, is there!" She grabbed a watering can in one hand and slammed the door open with the other, swinging it so hard Jem had to lift his hand up to keep from getting hit in the face.
"The last time I was a patient in this office, I bit the physician," Jem said. He watched Anna tip the watering can into a flower box on the windowsill. "Talking to you, I remember why I did it."
"You saying you want to bite me now, Jem Clayton?"
He looked at the way she bent over to spill more of the can's contents into a dry-looking bush on the ground. "I'm thinking about doing it right now."
Anna fired a look back at him, too frustrated to be amused. Jem gave her his little-boy smile and she rolled her eyes. "Don't play cute with me, young man," she said.
"That's right, I forgot. Always be respectful of my elders."
"Watch it," Anna said, aiming the spout of the watering can at him like the barrel of a gun. "I will send you back to your office squishing in your boots if you test me."
Jem looked past her at the wagon parked alongside the bank. Bill Doolin was sitting in the driver's seat with his foot on the wagon's brake. Each rein was tight in his hand and at the ready. Doolin kept looking up and down the street, twitching like he had bugs in his pants. He kept looking over his shoulder at the bank's front door.
"Hello? Anybody home?" Anna said. She wiggled the water can in front of Jem and sloshed water on the ground.
Jem pushed her aside and started toward the wagon. "Stay here, Anna," he said.
"Where you going?"
"Get inside!"
The bank's front door burst open and two men came running into the street. The bigger one was waving a shotgun in the air, screaming, "Back up! Get back or get shot!" The second man ran up behind him carrying a sack full of money against his chest, giggling hysterically as he ran.
The men raced around the side of the wagon as Bill Doolin snapped the reins and said, "Get in! Get in!"
Jem pulled out his Colt Defeaters and shouted, "Stop right there!" He was too far away. Doolin cracked the destriers across the back so loud it sounded like tree branches snapping in half and the animals took off. Dust and dirt flung from the wagon's wheels as the destriers peeled down the street, charging as hard as they could to get away from the bite of Doolin's straps. Doolin looked down in surprise at the man standing in the street, blocking his path.
Jem lifted his gun and aimed it at Doolin, but just as he did it, the man ducked low in the forward carry to use its front panel as a shield. The destriers were closing fast on Jem and Anna screamed for him to get out of the way. Jem lowered his pistols and fired, making the first destrier's head explode like a melon. The wagon careened and pivoted as the animal fell and got tangled with its running partner, both of them crashing against the vehicle behind them. Bill Doolin tumbled over the forward carry and spilled onto the ground, rolling in the dust.
Calvin Dunn kicked the wagon's side door open and came out with his shotgun hoisted square at the lawman's chest. "You meddling son of a bitch."
Jem watched George Dunn come out behind his brother, still holding the sack of money. The smaller man's eyes were wide and bulging, making him look like some kind of muscular insect. He stayed close behind his brother as they walked toward Jem. "Now, we're gonna walk right out this front gate and you ain't gonna do nothing stupid, gold star. Don't make me shoot you, because I will shoot you. You don't want no trouble. There's two of us and one of you."
Jem shrugged and fired. Loose coins spilled forth from the sack George Dunn was carrying like he was a slot machine that just came up three strawberries. Calvin turned to look at the smoking hole in the money sack in disbelief and then up at his brother. "Are you…oh my God…are you hit, George?"
George muttered something incomprehensible before he collapsed against his brother. Calvin grabbed him by the arm, trying to keep him upright. "George!" he shouted, shaking him roughly back and forth, shrieking his brother's name. He looked back at Jem and snarled, "You son of a bitch!"
"Lay down your gun," Jem said.
Calvin Dunn roared and lifted his shotgun, just as Jem's gun barked. A bullet cracked Dunn's forehead and he fell on top of his brother in a disjointed scatter of twitching limbs and loose coins.
Bill Doolin watched it all while he was still on the ground. He cried out in horror as both Dunns fell and scrambled to his feet, charging headfirst into the nearest crowd. His hands latched onto something small and squirming that screamed when he ripped it from its mother's hands. Doolin pressed the baby against his chest as he ripped a knife from his pocket and shouted, "Get back or I'll cut this little throat!"
Doolin kept the knife at the ready as he backed into Lulu's Department store. It took two strong men to keep the little girl's mother from going in after him.
Anna Willow raced into the street and bent over the Dunn's bodies. "They're both dead," she gasped.
Jem stepped over George Dunn's arm and headed after Doolin.
"This one was unarmed, Jem! What the hell did you do?"
The Lulu clerk burst through the front door and cried out, "He's gonna kill that baby if he don't get a ride out of here!"
"Why did you shoot him?" Anna shouted.
Jem shoved her aside, "Get the hell out of the way, Anna!" He raised his gun at the department store's door and started up the stairs.
A terrified shriek of pain rang out from inside that stopped Jem cold.
Bill Doolin called out from inside, "That was just a little cut, Sheriff. Move another inch closer and I'll start sawing parts of her off."
"Women, they're all screwy!" Fred Walters cackled as he walked back to the gate and looked up at the wagon holding the preacher and Bob Ford. "Welcome to Seneca 6," he said. "State your business."
The preacher fingered his white collar and said, "I come on a mission from the Lord, gate keeper."
Fred Walters squinted at him, "We ain't got that kind of money in these parts, padre."
"I'm not looking for money," the preacher snapped. "I'm here looking for information about missing girls."
Walters looked at Bob Ford and said, "What about you, baldie?"
Before Bob could speak, the preacher said, "He's my assistant. We come under the banner of the church, sir. Will you let us in or not?"
Fred Walters punched a few numbers into his clipboard and shrugged. "I guess I should. The last person I turned away was a dentist and the very next day I got an abscessed tooth. My daughter said it served me right. Reckon you could do worse."
The preacher squinted knowingly. Fred Walters activated the security code on the gate and the electrical field in front of them dissolved. The preacher snapped his reins and the carriage's wheels be
gan to turn just as Bill Doolin backed up his wagon against the side of the bank.
"Nice little town, here," Bob Ford said.
"Bigger than most of the other settlements and twice as corrupt. I heard all kinds of stories about the Sheriff and Mayor working in cahoots to bamboozle people outta their money. It's a dangerous thing when power and greed come together, Mr. Ford. A dangerous thing indeed."
"I can think of something worse, sir," Bob Ford said. He pointed down the street as George and Calvin Dunn came around the side of the wagon with a scattergun big enough to take down a building. "Daring and desperation."
"Hey!" the preacher shouted. He spun in his seat to look for the gatekeeper, but the old man had already returned to his shack. "Son of a bitch," he muttered. "Here, you better take this."
Bob looked down at the Colt Devastator and said, "What do I need to take that for?"
"Because you're the goldurn gunslinger, ain't you?"
Bob pushed the gun away and said, "I never claimed that. This ain't my fight."
The preacher's eyes narrowed, "There's women and children all over the place out here, boy. What if something happens to them?"
"That's for the sheriff to deal with!"
"The sheriff in this town ain't worth a squirt of piss, you lily-livered coward, now take this goddamn smokewagon and go do some business with it before I beat you to death!"
Bob recoiled from the anger in the man's voice and the preacher gritted his teeth in frustration. He took a quick breath and said, "I meant, please take this, Mr. Ford. I'm of no use holding it, and we may need it."
There was a bang in front of them as a woman barged out of the doctor's office carrying a watering can. The man following her had a gold star pinned to his left breast and the moment Bob Ford saw him he let out a little squeak like someone had grabbed him by the gooseberries. "It can't be," he whispered. Bob Ford whirled around and grabbed the gun out of the preacher's hand.
Ford leapt down from the passenger seat and scrambled in the dirt to run away. The preacher turned to call out for him, but by then, the sheriff was already heading toward trouble. He downed a charging destrier-drawn wagon as calmly as if he were shooting tin cans on a fence. When the two bank robbers came at him, trying to stare him down, he didn't hesitate. He dropped them and kept going.
Guns of Seneca 6 Box Set Collected Saga (Chambers 1-4) Page 28
