Junior smiled and nodded as Harpe walked over to Charlie Boles. He told Boles to hand him his gun and proceeded to remove all of the bullets from the weapon. “Why you doing that, Little…Elijah?” Hank said. “I thought you wanted him to duel Clayton?”
Harpe handed the gun back to Boles, who holstered it. “Do you think I want to chance Clayton getting gunned down in the street and for it to all be over?” Harpe checked the dead man’s switch in Boles’ left hand, making sure the wires were hidden inside the sleeve. “I want my good friend to bear witness to this, Hank. And I want him to know it is just getting started.”
Harpe watched Charlie Boles and his son get onto the same destrier and trot up through the canyon. “You did say my brother considered you his Lieutenant, right?”
“That’s right. I was the one figured out where you were taken, and how to get here. He was so grateful he gave me what he called ‘The Rapture.’ He would just look at me and speak that one little word. I was thinking we could have that same agreement.”
Harpe frowned and said, “That don’t sound much like my brother.”
Hank felt feverish with need. He pulled on Harpe’s shirt and said, “Your brother and me had special arrangements, Elijah. Please, just a little?”
“Suffering introduces a man unto himself, Hank,” Harpe said. “You want me to arrange a more intimate introduction?”
“No.”
“Good. I’m looking for two long pieces of metal. Thick enough to hold the weight of a man, and twelve feet long, at least. Have you seen anything like that?”
Hank removed his hat and looked around the scene of the wreckage. “I’m sure we can find something in this mess.”
The Boles were near the top of the canyon, about to descend on the trail that would take them to Seneca 6’s security gate. “I spent my whole life believing that I was doing the Lord’s work, and that when the time came, he would take me to his side and thank me for being his loyal servant. You cannot imagine my surprise when the time of my death came and there was no glory waiting. Nothing…just oblivion. It was a never-ending darkness more horrible than any hell you could possibly imagine. I admit it, for a moment, my faith was shaken. I thought I’d backed the wrong horse, Hank. You follow me?”
Hank nodded and said, “I think so. I’m not sure.”
“My job wasn’t to serve God,” Harpe said. He cast his eyes skyward and touched the creature embedded in his chest. “It was to become Him.”
Bart Masters guided his destrier down Pioneer Way, ignoring the stares from people he passed who looked at the mining device strapped to his saddle. “Taking your work home with you, Bart?” someone said.
“That’s right. Our stove’s broken and I need it to heat up the water,” Bart replied.
He pulled up his reins in front of Anna Willow’s office and removed the backpack from the saddle. “I’m here, Marshal.”
Jimmy McParlan came out and looked the device over. “Did they give you a hard time taking it off the site?”
“When they find out about it, I’ll probably get fired.”
McParlan sucked on his teeth and said, “Show me how this thing works again.”
Masters lowered the pack to the ground. “This here is the battery and charging cells.” He held up the hose and wand connected to the pack. “This is the barrel where the laser comes out. You can adjust the intensity of the beam here.” He handed the unit to McParlan and said, “I don’t see what use it’s going to be, Marshal. The beam only comes out about a foot no matter how high you adjust it.”
“That’s just cause you don’t know how to adjust it right.”
“And you do?”
“No. But Adam Wells does.” McParlan looked over as a destrier approached the security gate with a man and boy riding together. They did not stop to enter a code and went through the gate unhindered. “What the hell?” McParlan said. He handed Masters the mining device and said, “Take this into Adam and tell him to make it better. I’ll be right in.”
The Marshal held up his hand to stop the riders and said, “How you folks doing. Did you enter a special code to get in here?”
The boy shrugged and said, “No, sir. We entered by the Lord’s grace.”
“You wait right here.” He limped up the front steps to the Sheriff’s Office door and banged on it. “What the hell’s the idea of leaving the gate open, Junger?”
Walt Junger put his pen down and looked at McParlan with feigned astonishment. “Why, Marshal, you made it quite clear that my assistance was not needed.”
“This is no time for foolishness. Secure that gate.”
Junger shook his head and said, “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, Marshal. This was a directive that came straight from Mayor Elliot himself. Feel free to take it up with him.”
McParlan slammed the door and searched for the newcomers but they were already gone. He ran the image of them through his mind over and over. They were dirty looking, simply attired folk, probably just trying to resupply before heading off. They had calm, easy expressions and nothing about them looked ominous. The man had been armed, but that was common enough in this area. McParlan decided he could not think of what it was, exactly, and that was enough to make him want to go find out.
At noon, the sun was bearing down with such fury that Jem Clayton wondered if it was possible for his hat to melt. He walked through the swinging doors of the Proud Lady and was relieved to be out of the heat. When his eyes finally adjusted to the dim light, he saw Dr. Royce Halladay sitting at a poker table, eyes half-lidded, but still upright, still drinking, and still holding his cards.
“Jem Clayton,” Halladay slurred.
Jem put his hand on Halladay’s shoulder. “You’ve been hitting it pretty hard, Doc. Why don’t we go get some food?”
Halladay flicked his empty whiskey glass with his finger and said, “I prefer to drink my breakfast, sir.”
“I need to talk to you. Let’s get some food.”
Halladay looked up from his cards and cast a suspicious eye at Jem. “I do not appreciate your tone, Jem. The last time I checked, I was a grown man. In fact, I was an adult when you were just a whiny little brat buzzing around my office trying to bite me.” Halladay leaned over with laughter and Jem had to put out his hand to keep him upright.
Jem went to the bar to order a coffee. The men seated beside him were covered in the grime of the mines and had finished the first of many bottles they would drink that day.
Jem looked over to see that Halladay was still playing and giving the dealer a hard time about dealing him the wrong cards. The swinging doors opened behind Jem and he heard a boy call out, “Found you, Jem Clayton! My Pa is right outside waiting on you.”
Jem returned to his coffee and sipped it. “Go away, Junior. Tell Charlie I’m not interested.”
“Coward!” Junior shouted.
Jem turned to look at the boy, then returned to his coffee and ignored him.
Outside, peopled stopped in the street to watch Charlie Boles kick up a cloud of dust as he stomped around, hollering, “I’m going to stand here until you come out, you yellow-bellied rat bastard!” Boles turned to face the onlookers and said, “Jem Clayton jumped me and my boy out there in the wasteland and left us to die! And now I come for him, and he’s scared to show his face.”
The Proud Lady’s doors swung open and Royce Halladay staggered onto the porch, grimacing at the bright noon sun. “Jem Clayton would not waste the bullets on a mongrel such as you. I, however, have several extra that I would be glad to contribute.”