Dakota Run

Chapter Eighteen

Ferret pivoted, facing the newcomer.

He stood at the edge of the clearing, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. His hair and moustache were blond. He wore buckskins and moccasins, and draped around his waist was a cartridge belt and two holsters containing pearl-handled revolvers, one on either hip. His blue eyes were focused on the fallen Warrior, a frown creasing his lips.

Ferret recognized him from the dossier on the Family maintained by the Doktor. “The gunfighter!” he hissed.

The gunman glanced up. “Did you say something, furball?”

“I know who you are,” Ferret stated.

“Then I reckon you know what I’m going to do,” the blond man said.

“What you will try to do,” Ferret amended. He’d read about this particular Warrior, about his renowned reputation with those revolvers.

The gun-fighter was supposed to be lightning with those guns, but Ferret doubted any man could be fast enough to counter their speed, their genetically conditioned swiftness.

“Who are you?” Ox demanded.

The Warrior glared at Ox. “You shouldn’t have done that to my pard,” he said harshly, nodding at Blade. “And I’m also kind of fond of that critter too.” He indicated Gremlin.

“Then you can join them in my stomach!” Ox arrogantly snapped, annoyed this puny man was interfering with his meal.

The gunman’s features changed, shifting and hardening.

Ox looked at Ferret.

Ferret nodded his head to the left, and Ox immediately began edging in that direction. His body tense, prepared for a leap. Ferret moved to the right.

The gunfighter chuckled. “You boys ain’t none too subtle, are you?”

“Ox is going to rip your head off!” Ox promised.

The Warrior shook his head. “You’ve got it backwards, you walking pile of horse manure.”

“Drop your guns!” Ferret ordered, still inching toward the gunman.

The man laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding, runt.”

Ferret bristled at the slur. Hickok was only four feet away, within range of his powerful leg muscles.

“Any last requests?” the gunfighter asked.

Ox bellowed and sprang at the Warrior.

Over the years, Ferret had observed many men draw their guns. Some of these men were considered quick on the draw, but none of them had prepared him for the speed of this gunman. The man’s hands were a blur, his revolvers up and pointed in less than the blink of an eye.

One of the revolvers fired, the left one, and the bullet slammed into Ox’s left shoulder.

Ox twisted with the impact, and then whirled, laughing at the gunman.

“You’ll have to do better than that!”

“How’s this?” the Warrior queried, his right revolver booming.

A small hole suddenly appeared in the center of Ox’s forehead; and the grass behind him was sprayed with drops of blood and brains. Ox’s eyes crossed as he futilely endeavored to see the source of the pain in his forehead. His mouth opened and closed several times, and his hands clenched and unclenched as he managed to take another step.

Ferret, about to spring, found himself covered by the revolvers.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” the Warrior advised.

Ferret froze.

“I shot your pard in the shoulder because I wanted to take him alive,” the gunman said. “He didn’t know enough to quit while he was behind. Do you?”

Ferret glanced at Ox, still on his feet, weaving, about to fall.

“Which one of you hurt my lady?” the gunfighter demanded.

Ferret stared at those revolvers.

“Answer me,” the Warrior warned.

“I didn’t touch her!” Ferret replied.

“Figured as much,” the gunman said, nodding. His right gun cracked and the bullet tore into the left nipple on Ox’s chest. “That’s for Blade,” the man announced. The revolver blasted again, and the right nipple vanished. “That’s for Gremlin.” Twice more he fired, and Ox’s eyes became empty sockets. “And that’s for my lady.” He twirled the right revolver into its holster and pointed the left handgun at Ferret’s head.

Ox was slowly crumbling, ever so slowly falling to his knees. He swayed for a moment, then toppled onto his face, his massive body thudding as it struck the ground.

“Now it’s your turn, shorty,” the Warrior stated. “If you so much as blink, I’ll perforate your face and add an additional nostril or two.”

Ferret smiled. “I must hand it to you, Hickok,” he said in reluctant appreciation, “I’ve never seen anyone as fast as you. I thought we’d take you out, easy.”

“The person or thing who finally takes me out,” Hickok predicted, “won’t find it easy.” He paused. “You know my name. And you’re as ugly as they come. So I reckon you’re from the same outfit Gremlin is from. You’re a G.R.D., right?”

Ferret nodded.

“Gremlin told us all about it,” Hickok revealed.

Voices could be heard, not far off, drawing closer.

“Must be tough wearing that brand,” Hickok said thoughtfully.

“Brand?” Ferret repeated, puzzled.

Hickok pointed at the collar. “Gremlin says you can’t ever take them off, that this Doktor controls you with them.”

Ferret nodded, frowning. “We do what we’re told or we’re killed, electrocuted at the Doktor’s convenience. He monitors us using a satellite link. These collars also serve as transmitters, and their range is almost unlimited.”

The voices were much nearer.

Ferret took a step toward the gunfighter.

Hickok instantly reacted, thumbing back the hammer on his left Colt Python. “I warned you!”

Ferret grinned impishly.

“You think having your brains blown out is funny?” Hickok asked, perplexed.

“It beats the alternative,” Ferret answered.

“I don’t follow,” Hickok admitted.

“I’ve failed in my mission,” Ferret explained. “The Doktor does not tolerate failures. Any second he will throw a switch on a certain piece of equipment in Cheyenne, and moments later I’ll be fried from the neck up. Not a particularly appealing fate. Your way will be faster and painless.”

“You want me to kill you?” Hickok queried incredulously.

“Yes.”

“No way! I’m keeping you for Plato to question.”

“I won’t last that long,” Ferret said, his tone pleading. “Please! Finish me now! Before it’s too late!”

“Forget it, shrimp.”

Ferret growled in frustration. “Don’t you see? What happened with Gremlin is a fluke. Hardly none of us ever escape the Doktor’s clutches! There’s no way to get this damn collar off!”

Hickok shook his head.

“I’ll force you to shoot,” Ferret stated, crouching. “If you don’t, I’ll rip you to shreds!”

Hickok stared at the collar, noting the precision of the polished metal.

It was a circular band encircling the neck, with a rectangular blue indicator light in the center of the throat. It wasn’t lit. Yet. If it did light up, it meant the Doktor had engaged the circuits.

“Do it!” Ferret begged.

“Maybe I should just let this Doktor fry you,” Hickok said, “after what you’ve done to my friends.”

“I had to do it!” Ferret snapped, frustrated. “It wasn’t anything personal. Gremlin understood that.”

“I still don’t see why I should oblige you,” Hickok commented.

The approaching voices were not more than a dozen yards away, on the other side of some nearby trees.

Ferret glanced at Gremlin, relieved they’d failed in their mission, then at Ox, feeling slightly sorry for the hulking dolt. Any moment he would join Ox in death. What was the Doktor waiting for? Surely he was monitoring an assignment as important as this one had been to him. The Doktor relished revenge, he savored killing and slaughter, the way some people craved sweets. Ferret just knew a tremendous jolt of electricity would zap him at any second, and he couldn’t stand the suspense.

He lunged at the gunfighter.

Hickok’s response was instantaneous. The left Colt Python boomed and the impact of the hollow-point bullet slammed Ferret backwards several yards. He landed on his back, clutching at his neck.

Ferret twitched a few times, then lay still.

Hickok sighed and slid his left Python into its holster. “I did warn you, didn’t I, runt?” he asked the prone form.

Six Family members burst onto the scene, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi in the lead, his katana drawn and ready. He was accompanied by Yama and Teucer, his Triad brothers, and Plato, Jenny, and Joshua.

“Everything all right?” Rikki inquired, scanning the clearing.

“Everything’s under control,” Hickok replied.

“What was that shooting we just heard?” Plato asked him.

Hickok pointed at Ferret. “The runt there had a vitamin deficiency.”

Plato’s eyebrows knitted. “He had a what?”

“A vitamin deficiency,” Hickok reiterated. “Said he needed more lead in his system.”

Jenny was already at Blade’s side, cradling his head in her lap. “He’s been hurt!” she exclaimed.

“Don’t fret none,” Hickok advised her. “That blue monstrosity hit him on the head. The thing was lucky it didn’t break its hand.”

“This isn’t funny!” Jenny retorted. “We must get them both to the infirmary right now!”

Plato nodded and motioned at Rikki.

Rikki replaced his katana in its scabbard and, with the assistance of Yama, lifted Blade from the ground, Rikki carrying him by the ankles and Yama carefully supporting his broad shoulders. Teucer and Joshua did likewise with Gremlin.

“Don’t trip!” Jenny cautioned them as they departed. She walked ahead, guiding them around obstacles.

Plato watched them go, then faced Hickok. “Did they almost get you too?” He nodded at the two bodies.

“Nope,” Hickok said. “It was a piece of cake. Despite their looks, they weren’t much more than a couple of amateurs.”

“It appears you shot the big one to pieces,” Plato commented, mentally counting the five holes in the blue creature.

“I can’t abide it when someone drools in public,” Hickok remarked.

“Shows a pitiful lack of etiquette.”

“What about the hairy one?” Plato asked, moving toward it.

“It depends on my aim,” Hickok said. He crossed to the furball, knelt, and felt its left wrist for a pulse. At first he couldn’t locate any, but then he detected a faint, rhythmic beating. “This one is still kicking.”

“You didn’t kill him as well?” Plato inquired, sounding surprised.

“Nope. I kind of liked the cute way he twitched his little nose,” Hickok answered, grinning.

Plato searched for wounds, but none were visible. He looked at Hickok.

“How?”

Hickok reached over and tapped the metal collar the creature wore.

“I don’t under…” Plato began, then he saw it. Hickok’s shot had struck a rectangular component in the middle of the throat. The skin under the collar was broken, but the rectangular part had absorbed the impact of the slug and prevented it from penetrating the neck. “We must get this one to the infirmary. If he lives, he may provide valuable information concerning the Doktor and the Civilized Zone.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Hickok confirmed.

Plato chuckled. Despite Hickok’s reputation as a rash hothead, he frequently displayed logical reasoning of a superior caliber.

Superior caliber?

Plato grinned at his own pun.

“What’s so funny?” Hickok asked. He drew his right Colt and began replacing the empty shells.

“Oh, nothing,” Plato replied. “If you will lend a hand, we can transport this creature to the infirmary.”

Hickok stared at Plato while continuing his reloading. “Just hold your horses, old-timer. I have something to say to you, and it’s best I say it now, with no one else around.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Because you’re going to be one mighty ticked hombre after I tell you,” Hickok predicted.

Plato smiled. “Well, go ahead, then. Tick me.”

“I am going to leave the Home tomorrow,” Hickok declared.

Plato promptly frowned. “Again? I wasn’t very pleased with you the last time you abruptly departed…”

“I had to go after Shane,” Hickok interrupted. He slid his right Colt back into its holster and drew his left.

“Granted, you did save Shane,” Plato conceded. “But you also promised me afterwards you wouldn’t leave the Home again without informing me first.”

“Which is what I’m doing right now,” Hickok pointed out.

“I don’t like it,” Plato said, sighing. “It’s Geronimo, isn’t it?”

Hickok’s eyes narrowed, reflecting his concern. “My pard’s been gone way too long. He said he’d be back in a week or so. I think he’s in trouble and I’m going to go find him.”

“How?” Plato demanded. “You don’t have the slightest idea where he is.”

“I’ll get the Empaths to home in on him,” Hickok stated, referring to the Family Empaths, six individuals with exceptional psychic abilities.

Several times in the past they had been able to locate others, overdue hunters or lost Family members, at great distances utilizing their psychic capabilities.

“I should never have given my permission for Geronimo to leave the Home,” Plato said, “and I’d prefer it if you remained here for the time being. We can’t be certain the Watchers won’t attack the Home. More of these things might be sent against us. The Family can’t spare another Warrior.”

“I realize that,” Hickok admitted, his left Python reloaded and replaced.

“But I took an oath to my fellow Warriors, to my Triad, as well as to the Family and the Home. I won’t rest until I know what’s happened to him.”

Plato absently bit his lower lip and shook his head. “I know better than to attempt to persuade you from doing something you have your mind set on, so I won’t waste my breath. But I will make a request of you.”

“Shoot.”

“Will you at least wait one week?”

“I don’t know…” Hickok said reluctantly.

“Just one week,” Plato stressed. “If Geronimo hasn’t returned in that length of time, you’ll have my blessing to go and seek him.”

“Why a week?” Hickok inquired.

“I’m gambling,” Plato revealed. “I’m hoping Geronimo will return to us within a week and your departure won’t be necessary.”

“I reckon another week won’t much matter,” Hickok said. “If my pard is already dead, there’s nothing much I can do about it except find the one responsible and plant a bullet between his eyes.”

Plato studied Hickok. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“You’re one of the best Warriors the Family has,” Plato stated slowly.

“You’ve killed more opponents in the line of duty than all the other Warriors combined, with the notable exception of your peers in Alpha Triad…”

“Yeah? So?” Hickok interjected.

Plato stared into Hickok’s eyes. “Don’t you ever get tired of all the killing? I honestly can’t comprehend how you do it. I could never function as a Warrior. Terminating others would bother me too much. Doesn’t it ever bother you?”

A shadow seemed to flit across Hickok’s face. “I don’t give the killing much thought. I know all men and women are my brothers and sisters, spiritually speaking. I know if we have a flicker of faith, as Joshua keeps reminding us, we’ll pass on to the mansions on high. That goes for the ones I blow away too. I don’t get upset about it because I’m not a cold-blooded murderer. I don’t go around shooting folks for the fun of it. Usually, it’s the enemy or me in a fight, and I don’t stop to reflect on whether it’s a sin or not. I mean, look at the Bible. We were taught in school about the great warriors in the Old Testament, about Samson and David and the rest. They killed and they were considered highly spiritual. Besides, after it’s all done with, what’s the use of getting upset? Killing a bad man doesn’t get me any more disturbed than, say, killing a rabid dog or a mutate. That make any sense to you?”

“It makes perfect sense,” Plato admitted.

“Good.” Hickok nodded. “The philosophy is far from original. I first came across it in a book in the Family library, a book on the life and times of James Butler Hickok, or Wild Bill Hickok as he was commonly known in his day and time. He once told a newspaper reporter pretty much the same thing. You know how much I admire the man. Heck, I even adopted his name at my Naming.”

“Yes, I know, Nathan,” Plato said. He glanced at the hairy creature.

“Well, if you will assist me, we’ll carry this one to the infirmary and have the Healers examine him.”

“Don’t strain yourself,” Hickok suggested. “This critter ain’t that heavy.” So saying, he placed his hands under the runt’s arms and heaved, lifting the thing up high enough to drape the body over his left shoulder.

“Are you positive you can manage?” Plato asked.

“Piece of cake,” Hickok responded, rising.

They started back.

“You’ll be happy to know Sherry appears to be fine,” Plato mentioned.

“She was standing when we reached her, rubbing a bruise on her temple. I ordered her to the infirmary.” He paused. “She told us you’d already been by and were after the creatures abducting Blade and Gremlin.”

“I was the first one on the scene,” Hickok explained. “She was just coming around. Didn’t seem like she was hurt very bad. She told me what had happened and I took off after them.”

“You should have awaited assistance,” Plato quibbled.

“Wasn’t time,” Hickok countered.

They covered several hundred yards in silence.

“I hope Gremlin’s wounds aren’t severe,” Plato commented as they rounded a boulder.

“You partial to that critter?” Hickok questioned him.

“That critter, as you refer to him,” Plato replied, “has been of incalculable benefit in our research into the premature senility. Gremlin is quite knowledgeable in chemistry.”

“You’re kidding,” Hickok said.

“I do not jest,” Plato retorted stiffly. “Gremlin evidently spent many hours aiding the Doktor in his laboratory at Cheyenne. With his aid, we may be able to isolate the cause of the senility soon. If we are successful, the next step will be to develop a cure.”

Hickok, knowing Plato was one of the half-dozen or so Elders afflicted with the premature senility, stared at the Family Leader. “How you holding up, old-timer?”

Plato grinned. “Quite well, thank you, Nathan. My arthritis is worsening week by week, but except for unaccountable aches and pains at infrequent intervals, I’m relatively fine.”

“We’ll find a cure,” Hickok predicted.

“We must,” Plato stated. “The fate of our Family hangs in the balance.”

“Speaking of our fate,” Hickok remarked, “what are we going to do about the Doktor and his goons.”

“What can we do?” Plato rejoined. “We’re vastly outnumbered and outgunned. There are thousands upon thousands of soldiers in the Army of Samuel. The Doktor, according to Gremlin, has around fifteen hundred creatures in his Genetic Research Division. If they should decide to assault the Home en masse we wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“We’ve licked them every time so far,” Hickok noted.

“True,” Plato conceded, “but in our encounters with the Watchers and the genetic deviates we’ve been extremely lucky. Either we’ve had the element of surprise on our side, or they simply were not prepared to deal with the proficiency of our Warriors.”

“You mean,” Hickok elucidated, “they weren’t expecting us to be as good as we are.”

“Exactly. But our good fortune can’t hold forever.”

“So what are we going to do?” Hickok queried. “Wait for them to attack us in force?”

“What else can we do?” Plato inquired. “Our vastly inferior number precludes any major offensive move on our part.”

“We can’t just sit on our butts!” Hickok mumbled.

“I’m open to any viable suggestions,” Plato said.

“What about sending one of the Warriors to assassinate the Doktor and Samuel?” Hickok recommended.

Plato gazed at the gunman, half expecting he was joking. “Are you serious?”

“Of course.”

“Intriguing concept,” Plato acknowledged, “but hardly feasible. Even if we could actualize the logistics, the results aren’t necessarily guaranteed to achieve our goals.”

“Could you say that again in English?” Hickok wryly requested.

“Even if we did kill Samuel and the Doktor,” Plato elaborated, “it wouldn’t insure our safety.”

“Why not?”

“For all we know, someone else would come along and fill their shoes.

We’d be right back where we started.” Plato shook his head, his gray beard swaying. “No, that isn’t the answer.”

“What is?”

“We must amass sufficient strength to effectively repel the Watchers or successfully invade the Civilized Zone.”

Hickok chuckled. “Now you’re talkin’ my kind of language!”

They were abreast of the cabins. A dozen or so Family members were clustered nearby, watching. “Is everything under control?” one of them called to Plato.

The Family Leader waved and smiled. “Everything is fine! Our Warriors have the situation well in hand. Resume your activities.”

They walked a little further.

“So how are we going to ‘amass sufficient strength’?” Hickok asked, grinning, stressing the last three words.

“We may engage in a treaty with the Moles,” Plato said.

Hickok chuckled. He’d encountered the Moles while Blade and Geronimo were in Kalispell, Montana. The Moles lived in a huge earthen mound approximately one hundred miles southeast of the Home. They survived by raiding other communities and stealing whatever they required. He’d offered a pact to the head of the Moles before he’d departed their company. “If you’re waiting to hear from them,” Hickok said to Plato, “I wouldn’t hold my breath!”

“What about the people in the Twin Cities?” Plato asked.

Hickok stopped and scowled at Plato. “What about them?” he demanded, annoyed. “Blade, Geronimo, and I were there months ago. We told those people we’d return in thirty days and look at how long it’s been!

They wanted to join us, to come here and live, if not in the Home then one of the abandoned towns nearby. They wanted to be our friends and we deserted them.”

“We haven’t deserted anyone,” Plato disagreed. “We couldn’t help it if other, more important matters arose. May I remind you we finally retrieved the scientific and medical equipment and supplies we needed in Kalispell?”

“So you’re going to allow Alpha Triad to return to the Twin Cities?”

Hickok pressed him.

“Yes,” Plato stated. “As soon as Geronimo re…”

“That could be weeks!” Hickok snapped. “Who knows how long it will take me to find him if he isn’t back here in a week?”

“It can’t be helped,” Plato said. “Can it?”

“No. I reckon not,” Hickok ruefully concluded.

“In the meantime,” Plato went on, “I have another plan concerning the Doktor and Samuel II.”

“Oh?” Hickok’s interest piqued. “Like what? I thought my assassin idea was a good one.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of a spy,” Plato revealed.

“A spy?”

“Affirmative.”

“What exactly did you have in mind?” Hickok prodded him.

Plato thoughtfully stroked his beard as they moved toward the Blocks.

“I’m considering sending one of the Warriors to infiltrate the Civilized Zone. It wouldn’t be an easy task, granted, and would be fraught with risk, but if it’s successful, if the Warrior manages to return to the Home, we could learn invaluable information concerning their strengths and, of critical significance, their exploitable weaknesses.”

“Just anywhere in the Civilized Zone?” Hickok inquired. “Or do you have a definite destination in mind?”

Plato grinned. “Very astute, Nathan. Yes, I am thinking of sending the Warrior to infiltrate the Citadel at Cheyenne, Wyoming, using one of the vehicles confiscated from the Watcher patrol. Which is another reason I had them ambushed.”

Hickok whistled. “That’s quite a challenge, Plato. I volunteer.”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”

“Why?”

“Because this mission is so dangerous, because the odds against its successful completion are so overwhelming, I’ve decided to have the Warriors draw lots. Short straw wins. Or loses, depending on how you look at it.” Plato grimaced, bothered by a painful twinge in his left thigh.

“Sounds fair to me,” Hickok commented. “When does this spy mission get off the ground?”

“If we used one of the jeeps we’ve confiscated from the Watchers, we could send our spy out at the same time Alpha Triad leaves for the Twin Cities,” Plato proposed.

“That would leave the Home mighty short of Warriors,” the gunman pointed out.

“Not if we select the new Triad and the new Warrior for Gamma,” Plato noted.

“As usual, old-timer,” Hickok complimented him, “you have this thought out to the smallest detail.”

“When you are responsible for the lives of so many people,” Plato stated, “you realize how crucial every detail is.”

“So when will we hold the swearing in for the new Warriors?” Hickok questioned him.

“The induction ceremonies will be held as soon as Blade makes his final recommendations,” Plato replied. “The Elders will review Blade’s suggestions and scrutinize the candidates. If Blade makes his selections within the next couple of days, as expected, we’ll hold the induction ceremonies within the week.”

“Fine by me,” Hickok commented, wondering if Sherry would be one of the final candidates.

They were in the center of the cleared space between the Blocks, and they finished their trip to C Block in quite reflection.

Many Family members were gathered in front of the infirmary, engaged in animated conversation, discussing the fight and its implications. A chorus of voices was raised as Plato and Hickok approached.

“What’s going on, Plato?”

“What happened to Blade?”

“What was all the shooting about?”

“What’s that thing Hickok’s carrying?”

Plato stopped and raised his arms aloft.

The crowd grew quiet.

“Brothers and sisters! We have been subjected to another attack from the Civilized Zone. None of the Family has been killed, although several have been injured. In one hour, after I have conversed with those involved and consulted with the Healers concerning the extent of their injuries, we will hold a Family conclave on the commons. Kindly save your questions until then.” Plato smiled at them and led Hickok into the infirmary.

Of the four Healers, only three were on duty. Jenny was absent, and there was no sign of Blade. Gremlin was lying on one of the dozen cots in the room, unconscious. Two of the Healers were tending to his wounds. In a far corner of the spacious chamber, on two cots in the corner, were the two captured Watchers guarded by Spartacus and Seiko.

“Here’s a present for you, Nightingale,” Hickok said to a young woman.

Nightingale glanced up from her treatment of Gremlin and mopped at her sweaty brow with the back of her left hand. Her brown hair was disheveled and her clothes in disarray. “Thanks. Just what we needed! Leave it to you!”

“Any time,” Hickok quipped. “Say, did anyone ever tell you you’re a mess first thing in the morning?”

If eyes could freeze objects at a glance, Hickok would have been frozen solid. “You can deposit whatever you’re carrying on that cot,” Nightingale said icily, pointing at the specified cot.

“Touchy, touchy, touchy!” Hickok playfully commented as he deposited the furball on the designated cot.

“Where is Blade?” Plato asked Nightingale.

She indicated the rear door to the Block. “He wasn’t badly hurt. Jenny dragged him outside. Said she had to talk to him.”

“Where’s Sherry?” Hickok inquired.

“She sustained a bruised temple, was all,” Nightingale replied. “She took off out of here on the run. Something about getting back to her man. Didn’t you see her on the way here?”

“Nope.” Hickok shook his head.

“She may have passed us in the trees,” Plato reasoned. “I’m sure she’ll be here shortly.”

Nightingale was carefully probing Gremlin’s legs.

“How extensive are his injuries?” Plato queried her.

“He’s taken quite a beating,” she answered, “but nothing serious except for his legs.”

“His legs?”

“I think the right leg is broken,” Nightingale said. “I’m still not sure about the left.”

“Continue your examination,” Plato directed. “I’ll be outside. Inform me when your prognosis is complete.” He departed.

“Did you say Blade was out back?” Hickok absently asked.

“Last I knew,” Nightingale confirmed, then devoted her full attention to her ministrations.

Hickok ambled toward the rear door.

“What was that thing you just brought in?”

Spartacus wanted to know as the gunman passed them.

“The tooth fairy,” Hickok cracked. “Keep your eyes on it in case it comes around. It’s one of the Doktor’s G.R.D.’s. If it gives you any grief, pard, blow it in two.”

Spartacus drew his broadsword, grinning. “Is it okay if I slice it in half instead?”

“Just make sure it doesn’t escape or harm the Healers,” Hickok ordered.

“If it gives us any trouble,” Spartacus promised, “I’ll carve it into a nice pair of fur slippers for my girlfriend.”

The two soldiers glared at the gunfighter as he strode by.

Hickok ignored them and exited the Block, looking for Blade. He heard voices coming from his right, from behind a large tree. He was about to interrupt, to call Blade’s name, when the words being spoken sunk in.

“…won’t put it off any longer!” Jenny was saying. “You gave me your word and I intend to hold you to it!”

“But now’s not the right time to get married,” Blade protested.

“What are you waiting for?” Jenny bitterly rejoined. “Peace on earth and good will among men? Be realistic! You gave me your word we would marry after you returned from the Twin Cities. Then the run to Kalispell came up. Odds are Plato will be sending you somewhere else before too long. I’m tired of waiting, honey!”

“Wouldn’t it be best to wait until we could settle down without…” Blade began.

“And when will that be?” Jenny demanded, cutting him off. “We both know Plato will be sending Alpha Triad on more trips.” She paused, and Hickok heard her sigh. “Even if you did settle down, there’s no guarantee we’d be left alone to enjoy ourselves in peace and quiet. Look at how many times the Home has been attacked in the past several months! We’re not even safe here!”

Jenny’s voice broke, and she began crying.

Hickok started to back away, unwilling to intrude on their private discussion. He was almost to the door when her next sentence stopped him in his tracks.

“Didn’t you learn anything from Joan’s death?” Jenny inquired, sniffling. “Can’t you appreciate how important every moment we spend together is? We must love and share while the Spirit provides the opportunity. Who knows when it will come to an end? Look at this morning! You could have been killed! And what about poor Nathan?”

“What about him?” Blade asked, his surging emotion making his tone husky, as if his throat was constricted.

“Joan and Nathan went together for a long time before she was killed,” Jenny said. “Don’t you think Nathan wonders how much more they could have shared if only they’d married? Don’t you think he kicks himself for being so aloof at times, for not taking advantage of her affection while she was still alive and with us? Do you want that to happen to me? To you? To us?”

It seemed like Blade took forever to answer. “No, I don’t want that to happen to us. You’ve made your point.” He hesitated. “Will you bind with me in, say, four days? That would give us enough time for the preparations. I want to do this right.”

Jenny’s shriek of delight was probably heard for miles.

Hickok backed through the doorway, his thoughts troubled.

One of the Watchers, the youngest, the one Yama had smashed on the head with his Wilkinson, saw the gunman enter and snickered, taunting this Warrior as he had the others. Ridiculing his captors was his favorite diversion.

“Hey! What’s the matter with you?” the Watcher baited the blond gunfighter. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost! Can’t you…”

The soldier’s statement abruptly terminated, his mouth gaping open and his eyes wide in fright, as the barrel of a Colt Python flashed to within an inch of his nose.

The other Watcher, Lieutenant Putnam, his nose heavily bandaged, recoiled, terrified, trying to sink into the cot he was lying on. He knew the identity of this buckskin-clad Warrior with the pearl-handled Colts, and he’d heard stories of how very deadly the gunfighter could be.

Hickok slowly cocked the hammer on his Colt.

Spartacus and Seiko, both surprised by Hickok’s reaction, glanced at one another. They were startled by the livid expression on Hickok’s face.

“I… I… I… didn’t mean anything…” the young Watcher managed to babble.

“Hickok!” Spartacus spoke up. “What’s the matter? He isn’t worth it.

Besides, Plato wants them alive for interrogation.”

“You’re absolutely right, pard,” Hickok said softly. “This vulture isn’t worth it, isn’t worth the grass she walked on. But she’s gone, isn’t she?

Why? Because mangy vermin like this won’t leave us alone to live in peace.” He paused, his blue eyes dancing with rage. “If Plato needs this one, I reckon I’ll let him live, for now.”

The gunman holstered the Python and stormed from C Block.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the young Watcher looked at Putnam. “Did you see that? What was eating him? These so-called Warriors sure can’t…”

His sentence was suddenly cut short, again, by the point of a broadsword appearing where the Python barrel had been just moments before.

Spartacus leaned over and glared at the soldier. “You know, friend, you have a big mouth. Around here we don’t like big mouths. In fact, if someone’s mouth is too big, if they don’t know when to keep it shut, we solve the problem by nipping it in the bud, so to speak. We slice their tongue off. Keeping that in mind, is there anything else you’d like to say today?”

The Watcher vigorously shook his head.

“Didn’t think so,” Spartacus said, replacing his broadsword. He glanced at Seiko. “What did get into him?” he asked.

Seiko, his Oriental features furrowed in contemplation, shrugged.

“Now don’t you get inscrutable on me,” Spartacus stated. “You were closer to the doorway. Did you hear anything? What got him so upset?”

Seiko stared at the front door, the corners of his mouth turning downward. “Joan,” he answered simply.

Spartacus nodded, understanding completely. “Poor guy. He needs something to take his mind off of her,” he commented.

Outside, Hickok was twenty yards from C Block, stalking across the compound, oblivious to the questioning stares of other Family members.

His mind whirled, recalling the softness of Joan’s lips on his, remembering that horrible instant when she was killed by the Trolls, and reeling from the inadvertent rebuke of Jenny’s words to Blade.

Dear Spirit!

How true!

How very true!

He had been aloof, telling Joan he was reluctant to “rush” into anything either of them would regret. And now look at him! His only regret was that Joan was gone.

“Hickok!”

He heard her call his name and turned.

Sherry rushed into his arms and hugged him with all of her strength.

Her warm breath was intoxicating as she smothered him with kisses.

“Thank God you’re alive!” she finally exclaimed. “I was so worried! I was afraid they’d kill you!”

Hickok, his face flushed, held her in his arms. “I felt the same way when I saw you lying on the ground. I thought I’d lost you too.”

Her lips lightly touched his own. “Don’t worry, lover. I’m sticking around for the duration.”

“I hope so,” he confided, “because we’re getting married in four days and I’d look pretty stupid taking the vows by myself.”

Sherry, utterly flabbergasted, stepped back. “We’re getting what?”

“Married,” Hickok reiterated. “Some of us refer to it as a binding, to bind together in an eternal union. If we…”

She gripped him so hard her nails bit into his arms. “You’re really serious?”

“Never been more serious about anything in my entire life,” he solemnly affirmed.

“But this is so sudden, so unexpected,” Sherry noted. “Are you sure?”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Hickok asked. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret later,” she remarked.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I might be getting you on the rebound,” Sherry observed.

Hickok smiled. “The only thing I’m on the rebound from is stupidity. I don’t intend to make the same major mistake twice in one lifetime.”

“I don’t understand,” she admitted.

He kissed her on the right cheek. “The only thing you need to understand is that I care for you. We’ve been together… what?… three, four weeks now. If you think you need more time to settle how you feel in your own mind…”

“No! I know how I feel,” she assured him. “You already know I love you.”

“Well, then,” Hickok said impatiently, “will you marry me or not?”

Sherry threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, I will! I will! You big dummy! Do you think I’d pass up a chance like this? Of course,” she added, “I will feel somewhat guilty.”

“Guilty? Why?”

“For taking advantage of you while you’re obviously suffering from temporary insanity!” She laughed heartily and kissed him passionately.

“This could get to be a habit,” he declared when they came up for air.

“The best habit I’ve ever found!” Sherry said, giggling. “Hey! Do you realize you’ve just kissed me in public? In public! I thought you were the one who never makes a display of his affections?”

“Every rule has exceptions,” he retorted gruffly, “and this is a special case.”

“I’m glad,” she sighed.

“But I want you to know,” Hickok stated gravely, “that I’m not making any promises. I’m not going to say we’ll have a life of ease, because we probably won’t. And I won’t give up being a Warrior, no matter what. And just because we’re get tin’ hitched doesn’t mean you have a license to nag.

Another thing. If I say I don’t like a particular food, then I don’t want to see it on my dinner table. And if…”

Sherry quickly kissed him, aborting the diatribe.

“Perfect timing,” someone else remarked, “or he’d have gone on like that until nightfall.” The speaker, a woman, chuckled.

Hickok and Sherry turned and found Blade and Jenny only a yard behind them.

“Did we catch the gist of that?” Jenny inquired. “Did he just propose to you?”

“Yes!” Sherry exclaimed. “Do you believe it?”

Jenny looked fondly up at Blade. “Oh, I believe it, all right. Marriage proposals seem to be contagious today.”

Blade twisted, thoughtfully staring at C Block for a moment. Then he faced Hickok and nodded. “These women must have drugged our food yesterday. For all we know, the Family could have a marriage epidemic on its hands.”

“So when are you two tying the knot?” Sherry questioned Jenny.

“In four days,” Jenny replied.

“What?” Sherry gasped, surprised. “Hickok said we’re getting married in four days too!”

“Small world, isn’t it?” Blade wryly mentioned.

“I know!” Jenny proposed. “Let’s have a double ceremony!

“Oh! I’d love that!” Sherry said enthusiastically.

Blade moved closer to Hickok and lowered his voice as Jenny and Sherry began discussing the wedding preparations. “Congratulations,” he said softly.

“Thanks, pard,” Hickok responded in a quiet tone.

“Say, Nathan,” Blade commented, curious, “you weren’t behind C Block just a bit ago, were you?”

Hickok nodded, then hastily addressed the women. “Say, ladies. I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?” Sherry asked.

“About our getting hitched. It wouldn’t seem right without Geronimo here to be our best man.” Hickok paused. “Do you reckon we could postpone the ceremony until he gets back?”

Sherry and Jenny glanced at one another, then at Hickok, smiling sweetly.

“No!” was their unanimous answer, delivered in forceful unison.

“Just thought I’d ask,” Hickok said sheepishly.

“Look at this,” Blade interjected. “We haven’t even said ‘I do’ yet, and already they’re bossing us around.”

Hickok stretched and winked at Blade. “You know, this tends to remind me of something my grandfather used to say a lot.”

“What was that?” Blade inquired.

“I recollect my grandpaw telling me that when he first got married,” Hickok reminisced with a twinkle in his blue eyes, “he loved my grandmother so much he could have eaten her alive.”

Sherry and Jenny, all attention, waited for him to finish.

And waited.

“Yeah? So?” Sherry finally goaded him. “So in his later years,” Hickok said, completing the story, “he used to say he was sorry he didn’t!”