Chapter 30
CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG
Jorrin's tireless pounding resonated through the streets, sending echoes bouncing off the wooden buildings. Aaron smiled to himself. The sound of Jorrin's work was an old familiar noise.
"Did you hear about Miss Flinders?" Sarah asked. She joggled Ernest in her arms, making the baby giggle.
After setting his broom up against the counter, Aaron watched his son as Ernest grabbed at his mother's covered chest.
"Lucky boy," he said enviously, just loud enough so Sarah could hear. "No, I haven't heard a thing about Miss Flinders."
Smiling, Sarah pulled Ernest's hands away and then fastened the two buttons Ernest had pulled loose. Since it was expected, Aaron deliberately allowed her to catch him ogling. She mock glared at him and then slowly turned so he could see her in profile.
Yep, Aaron decided, breast-feeding had done wonders for her figure. Though not yet impressive, her shape had definitely improved.
"You sir," Sarah said, "are incorrigible. Rest assured, the pillows are still plenty comfortable, as you will find out tonight." She laid the tired baby down for a nap. Ernest fussed in his basket.
"Getting back to the original question, it seems that our Miss Flinders went and married on us. Exactly one week after she turned fourteen she corralled your guitar player, Team Haggerty, and forced him to propose."
Aaron winced as he thought about how that particular event could have happened, and then he thought of Team Haggerty's first wife, a true harridan in everyone's opinion. Young Ann would have her hands full with that one.
While he mulled that over, Mistress Hornway came in. He weighed out fifteen pounds of cornmeal for her while the Mistress asked Sarah if they still sold those female things that improved the figure. Sarah directed her down to the Seamstress shop, telling her Miss Hale handled those now. All the female specific items had been moved down there the same way all the rope and tack had been moved to the livery. With all the changes, Jorrin's smithy had turned into more of a hardware store and repair shop. Fortunately, Jorrin seemed to like it that way. It gave him more money and more free time, something Jorrin needed since he refused to take on another apprentice.
Aaron smiled. Jorrin's idea of utilizing free time was to make interesting new devices in his smithy. In other words, he worked as hard as he ever had; only now he worked on his own designs and hobbies.
"Fourteen seems awfully young," he said after Mistress Hornway left. "Women can die when they give birth so young."
"I took her to Doc's, and we talked about that. He says there's no problem because Ann is sterile. Thankfully, she doesn't seem too upset about it." Sarah's eyes sparkled. "I think you're just upset because Missy is thirteen. You'll have to call her Miss Bayne soon."
"I already do," Aaron admitted. "I gave Mistress Flo Halfax forty silver yesterday and sent her and Mistress Bun Halfax to Centrail to open a new Turner House. Between us, we decided that this House is going to be an inn, and the kids will help run it. I tell you hon, from the reports I've seen this inn is amazing. It has thirty-seven rooms to let and a ballroom. I figure we will use fifteen of the rooms for staff and to house the kids. The rest will be rented out. As a present from us, once they finish opening the house and hiring the right staff, Flo and Bun are going to roam the country on a year long vacation."
"So who runs the Traveler's Rest now?"
"I handed that to Missy. She's more than capable of running it if the staff helps a little."
CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG
Listening to Jorrin's hammering, Aaron remembered when he was new to Last Chance, back when the constant noise of Jorrin working had been an irritant that set his nerves on edge and made him want to climb the walls. That time was long past. Now, the sound of hammer on anvil was soothing. It was a comfortable sound that brought memories of slow days and warm evenings and reminded him of the friends he had made and the life he had developed here in Last Chance. Yes, he was being altruistic with Missy and with Flo and Bun. He was doing good things for them, but the way he saw matters, he would need to do ten times as much before the books of their debts to one another became balanced. He owed them for their support and friendship. He owed them for their time and their care and for their acceptance of who he was. He owed them more than any money or gift he threw their way could repay.
They had given him their friendship and love. No material thing he could give them would ever equal that gift.
Aaron watched Sarah check Ernest one last time, loving the maternal in her, and he felt his heart swell when Ernest smiled sleepily. After tucking the baby's blanket in tighter around him, Sarah hurried over to Aaron. Her hug was warm.
"Aaron, you are wonderful. Did I ever tell you that? This is what, the fifth Turner House? These places are costing us a fortune, but you don't seem to care, and neither do I."
Turning his thoughts away from those who were not there, Aaron gave his attention to his wife.
"You apparently don't check our accounts all that closely," he said dryly. "Every House is supported by one or more local business so we fork out almost no money after the initial start-up costs. In fact, sometimes I even get extra money sent to me because the associated businesses are bringing in more than enough to cover the costs. Besides, have you seen any of my mail from Miss Bivins?"
"No," Sarah admitted.
"We have more than twenty-seven thousand silver on account in N'Ark. I'm telling you, that young lady has gouged every penny she could out of everyone using other world ideas, and it's only going to get bigger from here on."
"My husband," Sarah crooned into his ear. "Mister Rich Tycoon. Are you planning on moving to the big city?"
With a slight shudder of distaste, Aaron shook his head. "No thanks, I like being an average little town Storeman. Besides, we won't be so rich for long because I've asked Miss Bivins to open half a dozen more Houses. N'Ark is big." He pushed her gently away. "I have a floor to sweep, woman."
"You have a lot of things to do," she playfully replied. "Do you realize that you've yet to make it to a town meeting despite every pressure we've put on you?"
"Creative avoidance," Aaron explained.
"Right," Sarah chuckled, and then she started when her eyes focused towards the door. They grew huge, shot to Ernest, and suddenly became warrior hard. Without a word she blurred into motion, leaped behind the counter, and flashed back to his side before Aaron had time to finish turning around.
Rack Rack
"Mister Beech," she said grimly, "it is time for you to leave." Her shotgun pointed unwaveringly.
Protective shield glimmering faintly around him, Beech stood in the doorway. Appearing nonchalantly smooth despite his rough appearance, he ignored Sarah; ignored the shotgun. Sarah's steel sword hung at his side.
"Hello, Storeman," Beech said. "I bet you thought I was finished with you. Sorrrry, but I just can't leave you alone. You see, Storeman, you owe me. If not for you and those damn noise sticks and all the Stones you gave the guard, I could have been a king. But thanks to you, the Guard went and killed off all my best officers."
He scowled and raised his hands expansively. "How am I supposed to run a war with no officers?" His frown grew deeper. "I can't. Without officers, all my nice bloodthirsty savages were only good for running around in disorganized groups and getting themselves killed. You owe me an empire, Storeman. I came to collect."
Aaron wished he still carried his pistol. "What do you want?" Should he break his word and transport over to the other world with Sarah and the baby? If ever there was any justification to do so, it was now. Then again, it was likely that if he did transfer over he would not live ten seconds since he still had a small charge of C4 in his back, and the Jefferson government probably still transmitted its firing signal. After all, an electronic signal was a very easy and inexpensive thing to run.
"Money," Beech said simply. "I understand you have a good deal of it. I need a few tens of pounds of silver." He pause
d and then smiled expansively. "Oh yes, I almost forgot. I could use some of the Talent Stones you have left. In fact, I could use all of them. Given to the right men, I can still have my little Empire. In a few years I can even own Isabella."
"There are no more Stones," Aaron lied. "The government took all I had left."
Beech shook his head. "Tsk, Tsk. I don't believe you. Tell you what. Since I'm a fair man I'll give you a choice. You can die slow before you show me where they are, or you can die quickly afterwards." He glanced at Sarah. "Stop waving that thing around, Mistress Turner. It can do me no harm."
"We'll find out," Sarah said. Her voice was cold and hard, and Aaron felt that aura of confined terror pour off her. She was suddenly her old self, death and mayhem and justice waiting to be released. "Aaron, there's another shotgun beside the back room's door. Get it?" Her voice held no inflection at all.
"I think not," Beech said. After drawing his sword, he started to raise it.
Sarah fired.
Multiple flashes lighting up his shield, Beech's face twisted with shock. He staggered backward, lifting his sword toward Sarah.
Moving unnaturally fast, she was gone before his move was finished. She moved Talent fast.
Rack Rack BOOM Rack Rack BOOM Rack Rack BOOM
Running full out, Aaron threw open the back room door just as Beech splintered six shelves with his power. Boxes tore apart and cans burst with a spray of smashed vegetables and pulped fruit. Aaron jerked his head around to see Beech rolling across the floor, trying to line the tip of the sword up with Sarah's elusive shape. Beech's shield wavered, became more visible to the eye and cracks showed on its surface. Its transparent hue became a translucent muddy green. Growling, Beech sprang to his feet.
BOOM
Rack Rack
BOOM
Aaron's first shot followed close behind Sarah's last. Beech, his face twisted with hate, fell to his knees. His eyes tried to focus on Sarah as she grabbed a box of shells from the behind the counter. Back in his bassinette, Ernest screamed.
On his knees, Beech laughed hysterically while blood broke through his skin. His sword jerked around, and his laughter took on a note of satisfied cruelty.
"Damn if they don't hurt me after all," he crowed. "The hell with you then." He laughed again and his sword lined up, pointing at Ernst.
"Nooooo!"
Aaron fired off his last shots, knocking the sword wielding arm aside just before Beech released his energy. The connecting wall between the store and the Emporium blew out, filling the air with a thick cloud of splinters and wood dust that choked his lungs. He could barely see.
BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM
Screaming defiance and fear, Sarah fired again and again. The shield surrounding Beech flared and crackled, spitting out jagged shards of almost solid light. Beech screeched when the force of multiple explosions against his shield sent him to the floor and rolled him out the doorway to land on the boardwalk. Sarah quickly shoved more shells into her shotgun.
And then she fired again.
Beech fell back into the street. The sword pointed toward--
Sarah fired twice more.
Knocked to the side, the sword's aim changed. Searing flames shot up from the street's dust and mud while two arrows reflected off the thinning shield. The sword's aim moved to the doorway in a quick jerk of Beech's wrist. It swept further. Its tip pointed at Aaron's eyes, and then it moved further until it pointed at the store's interior where a small shocked bundle screamed out its tiny lungs.
"Waaah--ah--ah--ahhhh."
"Gods--" Aaron reflexively jerked the trigger even though he could barely see through the wood dusted haze.
Beech's shield flared in only two places. The sword did not waver. His eyes squinted in concentration.
"Ernest!" Sarah screeched. She leaped behind the burning counter in a blur of movement, stooping and reaching. Shotgun falling from her warrior hands, her face twisted in anguished fear.
Aaron dove through the fog of sawdust to land in the doorway so he could make his body a shield against any direct attack Beech could throw.
"Kill me then!" he screamed. "Take me!
"No," Beech said conversationally, "I still need you." Blood ran down his face, leaked from his nose and his eyes and his ears. More blood, thin and watery, seeped from the pores of his skin. Surrounding him, the shield was a morass of cracked imperfections. Another arrow hit the shield. It stuck there, seeming to stand still in midair.
With a quick curse, Beech tipped the point of his sword up and released a stream of energy. Fire streaked over Aaron's shoulder, entered the store, and was met by a wall of drifting wood dust.
BAAAROOOMP
Aaron flew forward as flames erupted around him while Ernest screeched mortal agony. Aaron landed on Beech, bounced across his shield, and then desperately twisted to look at his fire engulfed store just in time to see Sarah burst out of the flames. Talent fast, she blurred into the street with the blackened form of Ernest clutched to her chest. Hungry flames rose from her hair and clothes and skin. Oxygen starved, the fire inside the store blew itself out in a billow of smoke. Gasping, burning, Sarah fell to her knees in the dusty street.
"Oh no," Aaron whispered.
Horrified, he watched Sarah's one remaining eye fasten on the remnants of her child. Her charred lungs fought to draw in air. Her head lifted. Hate and fury and anguish shot from her single eye to land on Beech. After trying to draw in one more breath, she changed her single eyed gaze to Aaron. Her eyelid closed. Her lips moved faintly, paused.
"Noooo! Noooo!"
Ernest still clutched tightly in her arms, smoke rising from her clothes and hair, Sarah leaned forward, fell, and then lay still.
"Gods--oh Gods--no--"
Unbelieving, Aaron stumbled forward, fell to his knees, landed in the dusty street, and then his hands were in the dirt, and he scrambled and crawled and knelt next to her blackened and still smoking body. Gently lifting Sarah, he drew her into his arms while tears dripped from his face, fell on her, giving her his salt, his moisture, his grief, because that was all he had to give. Sarah's arms loosened, opened, and the charred remains of Ernest fell from her dead hands. A voice wailed. His voice. Scrambling, sobbing, he tried to pull both his dead wife and his dead child to him. Sarah's seared face glistened wet from his falling tears.
Beech laughed shrilly.
Turned his grieving eyes toward the monster, Aaron saw that Beech's shield flickered and bled, saw that it was on the verge of failing, but that truth had no meaning. Nothing had meaning.
Beech pointed a finger at Aaron. "Now that was a handy revenge. Killed by the sword you gave her. I'll let you live with this memory, Storeman. The next time I come around, you might be more willing to obey my orders." Beech tried to smile, failed. "One more wife, three children." Lowering his finger, he grasped the sword handle with both hands.
A gun bellowed.
Beech's shield flickered and flared. Eye-searing light burst where the bullet hit…and then the shield died.
Like an inexorable, harbinger of doom, the gun fired twice more.
Cursing, Beech fell back with blood spurting from his arm. His face twisted in a sick semblance of concentration, and then his shield flared weakly back to life.
New shots sounded. One. Two. Three. Cathy stood in the street. Eyes wild, .38 gripped firmly in two hands, she fired her revolver again and again.
Light roared off the shield with each shot. Beech tried to raise the sword with both hands. Failed. Releasing his hold with one hand, he pointed a finger and gestured.
Cathy screamed and dropped her revolver.
Aaron looked up, his eyes blurred with tears, and then he stood erect with Sarah in his arms, their dead child at his feet. His anguished soul bled around him.
Arrows struck at Beech, and the shield showed signs of failing once more. Staggering to his feet, Beech saluted Aaron as Aaron let Sarah tumble brokenly to the ground. Crying, sobbing, Aaron stumbled tow
ard Beech for one step, two, and then he gathered himself and ran while hate and rage and grief boiled inside him. Beech sheathed his sword. Aaron's hands grabbed.
"Goodbye, Storeman."
Beech closed his eyes while Aaron clutched uselessly at his shield. Arrows struck. One glanced and cut a line along Aaron's shoulder. Beech weakly smiled through a mask of blood, briefly pointed a shaking finger towards Aaron, and then teleported away.
Flicker