by John Bowers
Suzanne smiled tolerantly. “We haven’t actually made any wedding pl—”
“Quite right, of course, one mustn’t rush these things! A wedding is once in a lifetime and must be planned properly. You come and see me, my dear; Mildred and I are experts at these things. Now, what is that delightful accent? Are you from Sweden?”
“No, Ma’am. I was born on Vega.”
“Vega! Vega…” The old lady looked slightly puzzled. “Well, I haven’t been there, but I’m sure it’s a lovely city.”
She turned back to Nick and seized him by the wrist.
“Marshal, it was wonderful visiting with you. Do stop in and see Mildred and me at your first opportunity. We can’t wait to hear all about your wonderful exploits.”
She released his wrist and fanned herself briefly.
“I’m afraid I really must run. Have a lovely day!”
Without waiting for a response, she lurched off the sidewalk and plowed into traffic, crossing the street like a torpedo. Nick stared after her in amazement. Suzanne took his arm and smiled.
“And who, exactly, was that?”
“I have no idea. She never told us her name.”
“Too bad. She was really quite colorful. I can’t wait to sit down with her.”
They turned and resumed their stroll.
“You mean you want to see her again?”
“Of course. I thought she was charming. Didn’t you?”
“No. The word that comes to mind is ‘busybody’.”
“Oh, come on, she was sweet. And she thinks you’re some kind of a god.”
Nick snorted. “Busybody.”
“I guess I’ll just have to ask Mildred,” Suzanne said with a sigh.
“Ask Mildred what?”
“Who that woman was.”
Nick nodded to a passerby on his left and tipped his hat to a lady smiling at him on the right.
“Are you serious? Why do you want to see her again?”
Suzanne turned clear green eyes on him. “To plan the wedding, of course.”
Nick stopped so fast he almost stumbled. He grabbed Suzanne’s arm and pulled her out of the pedestrian traffic, up against the building.
“Whoa-whoa-whoa, what are you talking about? Wedding?”
“Yes. Isn’t that what I said?”
“Wedding! Who said anything about a wedding? We never, ever talked about a wedding!”
She gazed into his eyes a moment, only half smiling.
“No, we never did. But we never agreed not to talk about it, did we?”
“We never discussed it at all!”
“Exactly. So now we are discussing it.”
He glanced up and down the street, his eyes almost frantic.
“Look, when you say ‘it’, that sounds like there’s going to be one. A wedding, I mean. What you should say is, ‘a’, as in ‘a wedding’, not ‘the wedding’.”
“I never said ‘the wedding’, I just said ‘it’.”
“I know, that’s what I’m telling you. You shouldn’t say ‘it’.”
“Why not?”
“Because there is no ‘it’.”
“Well, no, of course there isn’t. I never said there was.”
He sagged slightly, relieved.
“But if there was one, it would be an ‘it’.”
He frowned. “What?”
“I said, if there was—”
“I heard what you said. But you shouldn’t say that.”
“I shouldn’t say what?”
“You shouldn’t…Jesus Christ, you’re turning me inside out here!”
Suzanne pushed him against the wall and leaned into him with a giggle.
“You’re so much fun to tease!” She kissed him on the nose.
“People are staring,” he told her.
“Let ‘em,” she whispered huskily. “They’re just jealous.”
She kissed him again.
She stood back and let him regain his balance. Red-faced, he adjusted his hat and stared into Suzanne’s eyes, which still teased him.
“I need to finish my rounds.”
“Then we’d better start walking.”
She hooked her arm into his and they resumed their stroll. People on the sidewalk smiled at them.
“I’ll talk to Mildred,” Suzanne said.
Two blocks farther down the street Nick and Suzanne saw a small group of cult women, easily identified by their attire. Two were adults and three were still in their teens. The oldest woman appeared to be in her sixties, the other perhaps twenty years younger. Nick recognized one of the teens as the girl at the town meeting who had been clapping her hands; the old woman was the one who made her stop.
As Nick and Suzanne approached, the old woman planted herself in front of them, her weathered face flushing red with anger. She lifted her chin defiantly and glared at him with burning dark eyes.
“I know who you are, Nick Walker!” she said in an iron voice. “May God condemn you for what you’ve done.”
Nick stopped dead in his tracks. Beside him, Suzanne’s eyes narrowed and glared green lasers back at her. The old lady noticed and stuck a bony finger in her face.
“Don’t you look at me, you harlot!” She glared at Nick. “It doesn’t surprise me that you consort with the likes of her!”
Nick felt his face flush slowly red.
“Ma’am, if you have something to say to me, then go right ahead. But you have no call to insult the lady.”
“The lady! That’s a laugh. Just look at her!”
Nick tensed, but Suzanne squeezed his hand. He sucked a deep breath and forced himself to be calm. The old lady was fairly trembling with rage; her companion stood a few feet behind her, also angry, but the trio of girls didn’t seem to share the hatred. The youngest pair, who looked about twelve and fourteen, were staring at Suzanne in open admiration; the oldest girl, a redhead, wore a little smile as she batted her eyes at Nick.
“You may think you are some great hero of humanity,” the old lady continued, “and the heathens in this town may think so too, but Father Groening was right! You are nothing but a hired killer, and I pray fervently that you come to your just reward.”
Nick spread his hands helplessly. “Ma’am, I’m sorry you feel that way. If I’ve harmed you in some way—”
“You murdered two of my sons!” she shouted. “From that bell tower, eight years ago! One of them was Maggie’s father.”
She grabbed the oldest teen and thrust her forward for Nick to see. The girl’s eyes sparkled with delight when he looked at her.
“He was my husband!” the second woman declared, speaking for the first time. “I became a widow before my time.”
Nick stood speechless. He frankly had no idea what to say. The charge of murder was ludicrous, considering the rebels had been shooting back.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said quietly. “I regret—”
“You’re sorry! You’re sorry?” The old lady slapped him soundly across the face. “My sons are dead! Dorcas is a widow! Maggie is an orphan! And you’re sorry?”
Nick swallowed hard, embarrassed and a little angry. Several townspeople had stopped to witness the confrontation and a crowd was beginning to form.
“And look at Maggie!” the old lady went on. “Look at her! Without a father to guide her she’s becoming seduced by your world, your values! If she doesn’t find a husband soon, she will shame herself and our whole family. And it’s all your fault!”
The old lady glared at him with tears in her eyes. Her daughter-in-law just glared, and the younger girls studied Suzanne’s clothing.
“I just wanted you to know, Marshal! If you have any sense of shame—and I doubt it—then I hope you will think about what you’ve done. I pray that you die a slow and painful death!”
The old woman spun on her heel and stalked away, dragging the two young teens with her. The second woman followed, but the oldest girl, Maggie, stood where she was, her chest rising and falling with
excitement. She was a pretty girl—red hair and blue eyes, not more than seventeen—but Nick hardly noticed. She glanced quickly over her shoulder, then leaned quickly forward and spoke in a fast whisper.
“I’ll marry you, Marshal! I’ll be your second wife!”
Nick’s mouth fell open. “Wha—”
She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, then quickly turned and hurried after the others…but not quite fast enough. Her mother had looked back in time to see the kiss, and now spun angrily. With a cry of outrage she slapped the redheaded teen across the face, then grabbed her arm and dragged her quickly down the street. The two younger girls looked back with wide, frightened eyes, then the entire group turned a corner and disappeared.
Nick stood there breathing hard, shaken. Suzanne still held his hand, but didn’t seem to find any words. They looked at each other in a state of mutual shock.
“So much for everybody loving me,” he said quietly.
Suzanne nodded, then smiled weakly.
“Well…if you’re going to have a second wife, then I better hurry up and locate Mildred.”
Nick blinked at her, completely missing the humor.
“I don’t even have a first wife!”
“Like I said, I need to hurry.”
At thirty-four, Suzanne Norgaard was six years older than Nick and had an adult daughter only ten years his junior. Nick had never been intimidated by older women, and when he was reassigned from Sirius to Trimmer Springs, was happy to have Suzanne join him. They enjoyed a casual relationship with no real strings attached and had never discussed marriage. Nick had no ambitions in that direction and, as far as he knew, neither did Suzanne. The sudden discussion of the subject came as a bit of a shock, and he suspected she was only teasing.
But he wasn’t a hundred percent sure.
He didn’t have time to think about it right at the moment.
Marshal Nelson was in the office when they arrived. He had just poured himself a cup of coffee and was about to sit down as they came through the door. At the sight of Suzanne he froze like a statue and stared in disbelief. He inadvertently let his cup tip to one side and coffee dribbled onto the desk in a steady stream.
“You’re spilling your coffee, Marshal,” Nick said.
Nelson recovered quickly, set the cup down, and reached for a towel to wipe up the spill. His pink scalp turned red and his face followed suit. He cleared his throat to cover his embarrassment and dredged up a weak smile. Nick made the introductions and Nelson allowed Suzanne to shake his hand.
“I’m very glad to meet you,” he said. “Welcome to Trimmer Springs.”
“Thank you. It’s a beautiful little town. I love it already.”
The three of them chatted for thirty minutes; Nelson asked how they had met and Suzanne gave him a thumbnail of life on Sirius 1. Nick checked his computer terminal for messages and made a few notes about what he had planned for the day.
“So, are you going to open a restaurant here as well?” Nelson asked, happy just to keep Suzanne talking so he could look at her.
“Oh, I don’t know. I did that for sixteen years and it takes up a lot of hours. Right now I’m kind of enjoying life without working all the time.”
The door opened and Hugh Povar stepped in. Nick glanced up and then did a double-take. Hugh stood there with a big grin on his face, all decked out like an Ancient West lawman. He was wearing a new cowboy hat, leather vest, high-heeled boots, and canvas pants. He even had a new gunbelt.
“Where’s your horse?” Nick asked.
Hugh preened proudly. “You like it? I look just like you!”
He nodded at the others.
“Good morning, Suzanne.”
“Good morning.” Her smile was tinged with amusement at his hero-worship.
“Where in god’s name did you get that outfit?” Nelson demanded. “There’s no place in town that sells that stuff.”
“Special order. I found it online. Came all the way from Lucaston.”
Nick shook his head slowly. “Wow.”
Hugh sat down on the corner of Nick’s desk.
“What do you think, Nick? You and I could start a whole new style for U.F. Marshal attire.”
“Somehow I don’t think that’s likely. We’ll probably be featured on the comedy page of the annual journal instead.”
But Hugh was unfazed. “Well, I think it’s really cool, and it’s practical. Comfortable, too.”
Suzanne smiled at him. “I think it’s sexy. You look very sharp in that outfit.”
Hugh’s eyes sparkled and he beamed with pleasure. “Thanks!”
Suzanne shook hands with Nelson again, then gave Nick a quick kiss.
“I have a lot of unpacking to do. Will you be home for lunch?”
“I don’t think so. I have a couple of errands to run. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Okay.” She winked at him. “Don’t be too late.”
With another smile for Hugh, she breezed out the door. The three men sat there a moment in silence. Nick’s attention was already on a map he’d pulled up on his computer, a map that showed the location of both cult headquarters. His first stop would be the Homerites, to meet Jeb Wiest. If he had time he planned to visit the Groaners as well, though he wasn’t sure what good it would do.
“Nick, that is one very hot girlfriend,” Hugh said as he stood up and swung around toward his own desk. “Does she have a sister?”
Nick looked up at him. “No. But she does have a daughter.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Unfortunately for you, she’s already spoken for.”
“Too bad. I could get used to someone like that.”
Nick smiled but didn’t answer. The odds of Hugh finding a Vegan woman on Alpha Centauri 2 were next to zero, and even if he did, the competition for her attention would be murderous.
Hugh checked his messages and then glanced at his watch.
“Okay. I think I’m gonna take a stroll around town, see what’s going on.”
“Good idea. Keep an eye out for those cult people. After last night, they’ve got me a little nervous.”
High nodded. “I know some of them. Maybe I can find out if they’re planning anything.”
“Okay. Watch your ass.”
* * *
Hugh Povar had lived around Trimmer Springs his whole life, had been born there and went to school there. Except for a class trip to Lucaston in the eighth grade, he had never been more than a hundred miles from home, and though he dreamed of someday seeing the galaxy, he didn’t really have the ambition to venture out very far. He could have gone to the U.F. Marshal Academy, but opted instead to hire on as a deputy, which meant he could never run his own office or be assigned to another planet.
Hugh didn’t mind; his father had died in the war and his mother lived alone, so he felt an obligation to take care of her. He was only twenty-two and had plenty of time to realize his dreams. At the moment he felt life couldn’t get much better—he was a real, live U.F. deputy and he was working with Nick Walker, the hero of Trimmer Springs. Of course, he wouldn’t mind having a girlfriend like Nick had—that would make life absolutely perfect—but there were plenty of girls in town and more than one was impressed by the shiny badge on his shirt.
Hugh stepped out the front door of the Marshal’s office and took a deep breath of the cool, fresh mountain air. He was a small-town boy and loved his small town. The air was scented by pine needles and wood smoke; a feeling of contentment washed over him as he stood there looking up and down the street. Things were peaceful, and he loved that. He well remembered when things had been anything but peaceful, and that was one of the reasons he was so excited about working for Nick.
Hugh had been a boy of fourteen when the Rebel Coalition closed in on Trimmer Springs. He’d seen the Star Marines pouring into town, some in hovercraft, others on foot. He’d seen them scrambling to set up defensive positions, remembered the bark of orders from leather-lunged noncoms. Shells were already si
nging overhead by then, and urgency was in the air. Hugh’s mother had dragged him into the basement just before the artillery began in earnest, and their house had been hit several times.
It had been a long day and a longer night as they cowered beneath the house, listening to the shell fire—hellfire, his mother had called it—and wondering if the Star Marines could hold.
The following morning, the rebels had made their move. Hugh’s house was only four blocks from the church, and throughout the day that single rifle in the bell tower had done its deadly work. There were other weapons as well, assault rifles and automatic fire mingled with incoming artillery; the bell had rung constantly, a flat, uneven sound cause by bullet strikes—but the crack of that rifle had cut through it all. Hour after hour, round after round, the sharp report echoed across the town, all day and all night. Then, finally, a relief column had arrived, the rebels pulled back, and the citizens began to emerge.
Hugh still remembered staring at the bell tower above the church. It had been chewed and splintered by rebel fire, but that Star Marine was still up there, badly wounded, sniper rifle in hand. The fighting was over, and Hugh was watching when the medics brought him down on a hover stretcher. Back then Hugh hadn’t known his name, but everyone on the street knew what he had done. The word spread in hushed tones that he, whoever he was, had held off the rebels almost single-handedly. The east end of town was littered with rebel bodies, and dozens more had crawled away to die.
The rebellion had ended soon after that. As the town was being rebuilt, the statue had gone up in the park. That was when Hugh learned the name of the man in the bell tower for the first time.
Private first class Nick Walker, Echo Company, 33rd Star Marines.
And now he was back to take over the U.F. Marshal’s office.
And Hugh was working for him.
What a thrill!
Hugh took another deep breath and turned his eyes toward the bell tower. It was only two blocks from where he stood, and dominated the town in every direction. He stared at it a moment, and his eyes narrowed a little in surprise. For just a moment he thought he saw movement up there, but couldn’t be sure. He took a couple of steps toward the edge of the sidewalk, pulled his hat brim down to shade his eyes, and took a closer look.
He saw the flash just a second before he felt the pain. The bullet hit him an inch above the heart and exploded out the center of his spine, punching him backward with an audible oof! He hit the sidewalk hard, his cowboy hat rolling away to settle in front of the office door. Just that quickly the pain was gone, and Hugh Povar didn’t even hear the crack of the rifle that killed him.
