TILL DEATH... DO US PART...

Chapter One "The Barber Shop"

"Do you feel that rich country air in your lungs, Earnest?" Hugh asked the carriage driver as they made their way down the narrow streets of Williamsburg, a small country town nestled into the side of a mountain.

The driver cleared his throat but did not answer.

Hugh propped his chin upon his hand and looked out of the window. The town had been experiencing rain on and off for a week now giving it a washed out and gloomy appearance. "Does this place ever have any festivals or interesting events?"

Once more the driver failed to reply.

Hugh let out a small sigh of boredom, "I am curious to know if you can speak or are mute?"

"I happen to be more than capable of proper speech. Last time I checked, however, carriage drivers were not required to entertain the passengers." Replied the old man in a deep gravelly voice.

Hugh noticed that the carriage was slowing down. "Here are here my lord." announced the driver as he stopped the carriage roughly.

Hugh waited as the driver claimed down from his high perch to open the door. Once he did, Hugh slid out of the carriage with ease. His impressive height, athletic build, and dandy looks commanding the attention of a few young women across the street. The group stopped what they were doing to wave at him. In response, he smiled at them and tipped his hat.

"Hugh, old boy you still got it. Charlotte is one lucky woman to call you hers," he said complimenting himself while strolling into the local barbershop.

This place was a bit larger than he expected it to be. In the center of the room, four chairs with a customer seated in each. The air smelled strongly of powdered shaving cream and cologne which was a welcome change compared to the rest of the towns soured aroma.

Seeing that the barbers that their hands full at the moment, Huge went over to sit down in one of the many wooden chairs that lined the south-facing wall. Upon finding a newspaper on a small table he began to browse through it. Finding this edition to be a few days old.

Across the room, an aged barber who looked to be in his eighties stood over Shamus Scott. "A shave and a haircut today? That'll be a bit pricey for most."

"Don't worry old-timer. I am good for it," he said pulling out a few coins from his pocket to give the man.

The barber began by tilting the client back in his chair. Then went over to a small cast iron stove to prepare a hot towel.

"How do you have any money, Shamus? I heard that you haven't had many customers since the doctor moved into town and cut the death rate." Replied the man in the next chair getting his long white hair cut short.

"Sam, it's none of your business but I just so happen to be expecting a blessing soon."

"God does not bless the town drunk. You must be lying."

Shamus shrugged at the insult. "You must have not heard the good news then."

"That might depend on what you think the good news is."

A plump barber's laughter filled the room. "Don't tell me this good news is that you found a new girl to see on the side?" Then he shook his head, "If you keep this up Martha will kill you in your sleep."

Shamus's face grew beet red and balled up his fists. "I WILL HAVE YE KNOW THAT I'M TRYING TO BE A BETTER MAN THEN THAT!"

Before the situation could get much worse the elderly barber reappeared carrying a steaming white towel. "Boys that is enough.", he said pointing his finger at the crowd. "There will be no fighting in here. There is no sense in it.", he announced while gently pacing the cloth over Shamus's face. Next, he went to work mixing up a big batch of shaving cream by mixing the canned power with water. "So I hear ya got some news?"

"I just so happen planning on making a lot of money on a... upcoming funeral."

"I do not know of anyone passing here lately."

"No the person I am referring to has not bit the dust yet. I heard that the black widow has caught another poor fella to be her latest victim." Upon Shamus saying this the whole room went silent.

The barber waited to replay, taking his time to remove the towel and lather his client's short beard. He held the straight razor in his trembling hand pointing it at Shamus's throat, "You boys better not speak ill of her. That family has done a lot of good for this town and nothing respect."

Shamus put his hands up in defense, "Not disrespect intended."

"It is not disrespectful to speak the truth. That little missy has done been widowed three times in five years. She's a Widow Abigail if I have ever seen one." spoke up Sam as he checked the progress being made on his hair in a large mirror.

"If I recall correctly, the first one disappeared for a few days only to be found dead a few town over. The poor lad was hanging by the neck from an old willow tree with a noted that read "Horse Thief' pinned to his shirt." Shamus replied as tired his best to stay still for the barber.

Hugh found talk amusing and sat back in his chair to watch this scene unfold. Eager to learn more about this town's colorful history.

"Do you all remember the second one? He was some kind of mining tycoon that went to inspect one of his tunnels one day, only for it to collapse burring him alive!" Sam replied.

The elderly barber's hands shook violently as he listened to the conversion going on around him. This went unnoticed by his client.

Shamus sat there quietly for a moment, tapping his fingers on the chair's armrest. "The last one was a wealthy shipping merchant down at sea. Only to be..." was all he could say before he jumped. Whipping his sleeve on his face revealed some smeared blood.

He stood up and pushed the elder barber aside to get to the wall mirror. On his right cheek was a small gash that oozed blood. He stood there in disbelief for a moment be form cussing up a storm and walking out.

After the dust was settled, the elderly barber gestured for Hugh to have a seat in his chair.

Hugh's eyes went big and he gulped. Then turned to the man sitting beside him and politely asked, " I am not in a hurry. Would you like to go ahead of me?"

cra·vat/krəˈvat/nouna short, wide strip of fabric worn by men around the neck and tucked inside an open-necked shirt.HISTORICALa necktie.

dandy/ˈdandē/noun1.a man unduly devoted to style, neatness, and fashion in dress and appearance.synonyms:fop, beau, a man about town, bright young thing, glamour boy, rake; More2.INFORMAL•DATEDan excellent thing of its kind."This umbrella is a dandy.