William Diehl: Eureka

Eli had our lives planned out for us. Ben and Isabel would marry. Ben would take over the bank. I’d take Buck Tallman’s place when the time came, and clean up Eureka. Trouble was, I was in love with Isabel and she was in love with me. But she was engaged to Ben and she truly adored him, too. So one night, I packed my duds and left. Joined the Marines, traveled the world, and ended up in France in 1918. I truly thought I would spend the rest of my life as a leatherneck but the war put an end to that. You know how that can be. Fate can change your life in the time it takes a howitzer shell to go off.

Eli once told me everybody has to have a home to come back to. I guess that’s why I came back to Eureka when I got out of the hospital. It was the only home I had left. I had a godson and a family, and Delilah was here. And old Eli’s plan was waiting. I became Buck Tallman’s deputy. It was still a tough town because Riker still ran it. But that was about to change. Delilah ought to tell you about how that night started. Unfortunately, I was late for the party or history might have a different story to tell.

It’s still hard to talk about, Delilah said. It was the worst night, the worst memory of my life. I remember every detail.

Bucky was upstairs in my apartment. He always came by about six, for a cup of coffee and to listen to some opera records I had. It was a ritual. His deputy, Andy Sloan, was downstairs keeping an eye on things when the four of them came in.

I heard some swearing downstairs, walked to the head of the stairs and one of them, an out-of-towner, they all were, told me to come down and talk. I knew what they were, I could tell by looking at them. At that point, Bucky walked up beside me. The lead man sneered at Bucky, said something about him being Buffalo Bill, and Bucky walked down the steps and up to him. They were nose-to-nose. Bucky said, “You oughta brush your teeth sometimes, your breath smells like a dead cat’s.”

And just like that, the bastard pulled his pistol and shot Bucky in the stomach. And all hell broke loose.

Bucky grunted and staggered backward, pulled that Peacemaker and fanned three shots into him. Bangbangbang, just like that, so fast you could hardly tell them apart.

Five men were still standing and they all started shooting at once. It was unbelievable. Bullets shattered lamps and windows, and ripped into walls. I remember bits and pieces after that, like a collage: a vase of flowers bursting apart; the mobster standing against the wall to Andy’s right, turning toward him and taking Andy’s bullet in the face, falling on his knees and then doubling up, and falling forward with his head resting on the carpet; Bucky’s. 44 making twice as much noise as all the other guns; the thug near the inside bedroom door spinning around with tufts of gabardine flying off his chest and back; the bastard near the door firing a single shot at Andy, blowing open the back of his head, and knocking him backward over a large, stuffed easy chair.

It all happened in less than a minute. One of the hoodlums decided to run for it and Bucky shot him as he went out the door. Then Bucky fell against the staircase banister, started reloading his pistol, and the one who had shot Andy started to get up. He was crawling around on his knees looking for his gun. Then I heard a shot outside.

Culhane: When I came through the door, there was Bucky, gut shot, trying to reload his Peacemaker, his hands so bloody the bullets kept slipping through his fingers and falling on the floor. Andy Sloan was dead on the floor. Everybody was dead but Bucky, me, and the last of Riker’s men. He and Buck were both shot all to hell. They were across the room from each other, probably twenty, thirty feet apart.

Through the years, I’ve played what happened next over and over in my head like one of those slow-motion movies, and I wish I could stop it. I wish I could turn off the projector and stop time.

I was twenty feet to the left of Riker’s man.

He’s struggling to his feet. He’s raising his gun.

Buck slaps the cylinder shut on his. 44 and his arm is going up.

I go for a head shot, figuring I’m closest. But even shot up as he was, Bucky was faster than me. Probably by half a second. Bucky shoots and I shoot. His bullet hits the gunman first, a split second before mine. His head snaps backward, and my shot goes right past him and hits the door to the bedroom on the first floor.

Bucky looks up at Del and says, “Wouldn’t you know it. Killed in a whorehouse.”

And then a woman screamed. She was behind the door to the first-floor bedroom, which was more or less reserved for locals. I ran across the room and kicked open the door. There was a man lying on the Persian rug, shot in the throat. Blood was spouting out of the wound. The woman was covered with his blood and hysterical. Her bloody hands were crossed over her face. She was shaking all over. But I wasn’t looking at her.

“Get her out of here,” I yelled to Delilah, and they were gone, and I was looking down at the youngster lying at my feet. I saw his eyes go blank.

It was my godson, Eli Junior.

My bullet killed him.

They both stopped talking. They were long past tears but the depth of their sadness swept through the garden like a cold wind. Bannon took Millicent’s hand with both of his, held it tightly, and kissed it. Tears trickled down her face.

All I could think of was to get Eli out of there. I moved as fast I could. Wrapped him up in the Persian rug, which was drenched in blood. There was hardly any blood in the room except on the bedspread. I ripped it off the bed and threw it in the closet. Then I picked Eli up and carried him outside through the side door by the hedgerow, down to his car, and put him in the trunk. When I came back, the coroner was just arriving. I said as casually as I could, “Nothing in the bedroom.” I had left the door open so he wouldn’t see the hole in the door.

Then I made the toughest phone call I ever made in my life. I called Ben and told him to meet me at the overlook. It was foggy as hell. You couldn’t even see your belt buckle. He met me there and we mourned over Eli. We prayed over him and we talked to him and we were dying inside. We decided his mother could never know what happened. Killed in a whorehouse, killed by a man she loved. It would have killed her. He was her magic child, the mortar in a great friendship. So we cranked up the Chevy and I got behind the wheel, drove it to the edge, and jumped out. It seemed to take forever before it hit the shelf. And then a minute or so later, it exploded.

I don’t know how Ben kept his sanity when he went home to Isabel. He had to wait until the next morning, until a newsboy saw the wreck on his way up Cliffside Road, and I went over and told them both.

He stopped and held his glass up. Delilah filled it. Bannon looked across the table at the old warrior.

“And you kept that secret until Isabel died?”

Culhane nodded. “Me, Ben, Delilah, and old Eli knew.”

“And one more,” Bannon said. “The girl young Eli was with-Wilma Thompson.”

Millicent looked shocked. Delilah surprised. Culhane just smiled.

“Figured it out, didn’t you, Cowboy?”

“It’s the only way it made sense. The out-of-towners weren’t coming to barter for a piece of the action. Riker sent them because he figured Delilah was hiding Wilma at Grand View.”

“He had just done ten lousy days in the local jail for beating her up,” Delilah said. “It should have been ten years. When she dropped out of sight, he sent those animals up to my place to find her.”

Delilah is in her apartment when Noah taps on the door.

“It’s old Mist’ Eli,” Noah says. “He’s downstairs in his car. Can’t come in ’cause of the wheelchair.”