Magnificent Guns of Seneca 6 by Bernard Schaffer Read Free Book Online Page B

that day in the meadow.  
     
    “All those have their purpose, see, and some can be used for more than one.   In the right hands, anything can be dangerous, I suppose.”
     
    “Even a piece of string?” Jem said.
     
    “All right, maybe not everything.   Lots of things, though.   A pen, a pencil, a wheel spoke, any number of regular items can be disastrous if someone has it in their mind to hurt you with it.   I once heard of a prisoner picked his handcuffs with a woman’s hairclip and used it to slit a deputy’s throat.”
     
    “Yuck!”
     
    “That’s right.   I think the lesson there is that you can’t ever assume you’re safe just because someone doesn’t have a gun or a knife.   On the flip side, don’t ever feel like you’re defenseless because there’s weapons around you everywhere if you know where to look.”
     
    “Okay.”
     
    Sam took Jem’s hand and wrapped it around the handle of his knife.   He gave the boy a minute to feel the way the hickory walnut curved in the palm of his hand, keeping the blade’s tip angled forward, ready to strike.   “This here knife just has one purpose.   It was created by a man named Bo Randall from Fort Scagel.   Those boys knew the value of a good knife, I assure you.”
     
    Jem looked at the knife and saw the man’s name etched across the side of the blade.
     
    “Fort Scagel was an outpost for the mining companies about twenty years back.   It was overrun by the Beothuk and all their supplies were cut off.   The men inside ran out of ammunition, and it was just a matter of time before the savages came busting through the doors.   Old Bo, he gathered up all of the men and had them collect any piece of scrap metal he could find.   They used everything from iron bedframes to aluminum panels on the transports.   In a few days, Bo made every sort of knife, spear, sword and axe you can think of.   Crude things, really.   Just made for one purpose.”   Sam lowered his voice and said, “Only a few men made it out of Fort Scagel alive.   Bo was one of them, and he kept making knives up until the day he died.”
     
    Sam tapped the hilt of the knife with the tip of his finger, “This right here’s a special guard to keep your hand from slipping up over the blade.   An up close knife fight is slipperier than a rattlesnake in a bucket of lard, so you need that to keep from slicing off your own fingers.   See how the steel is curved?   It goes right through a man like he was made of hot pudding and opens him up from stem to sternum.   This knife has no other reason for being except for one purpose.”
     
    “To kill him,” Jem said solemnly.   His eyes flashed as he thrust the blade forward.
     
    Sam watched the little boy and his heart broke.   He gently took the knife from Jem’s hands and set it aside, suddenly regretting the entire conversation.   “No, not to kill,” he said.   "To protect yourself if someone's trying to kill you, or somebody you love."   He picked Jem up and set him on his knee, wrapping his arms around him.   “Pretty soon, you’ll be too big to sit on my knee like this.”  
     
    “Can you sharpen my knife?” Jem said.  
     
    “You mean that little toothpick you carry around?   Here, let me see it.”  
     
    Jem dropped the knife into his father’s hand and said, “Did you catch Whiskey Pete yet?”
     
    Sam pumped the pedal until the wheel began to turn and said, “No.   He’s gone.   I’ve got a warrant out for him some of the businesses in town even put up a reward, though.”
     
    “And still nothing?”
     
    “Nope.”
     
    “Sum bitch.”
     
    The wheel stopped suddenly and Sam turned to look at his son.   “What did you say?”
     
    Jem shrugged silently.   Sam shook his head and said, “Boy, you talk like that in front of your mother and she’ll break half the spoons in the kitchen across your backside.   She’ll save the other half for me.”
     
    Jem leaned forward and