Orson’s mouth fell open. He shot a glance at Blade. “Are you just going to sit there and let him shoot me?”
Blade slowly stretched. “Orson, I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I don’t have the energy to waste trying to talk Hickok out of killing you.”
“But you can’t!” Orson protested.
Blade stifled a yawn. “Why not?”
“This is supposed to be a joint venture,” Orson said. “We were sent here as a team! Your Family and my people have signed a treaty!”
“True,” Blade admitted. “The Family and the Moles did agree to a pact.”
“So, if you let Hickok kill me, it would violate the treaty!” Orson declared.
Blade stared at Orson and allowed himself the luxury of an innocent smile. “Who would know?”
“What?”
“How would your people find out? I’m not about to tell them,” Blade asserted.
“I know I won’t,” Bertha said.
“My lips are sealed,” Lynx interjected. “And besides, I really could use the snack!”
Orson gazed at Rudabaugh for support.
Rudabaugh chuckled. “Don’t look at me! My people, the Cavalry, could care less about one slimy Mole.”
Hickok opened his door. “There you have it. I won’t wait long.”
Orson paled.
“Oh, darn!” Geronimo said, then sighed. “I hate to be the party-pooper, but I don’t think you should kill him.”
Hickok exhaled through his nose. “You’re always spoiling my fun!”
“I’m sorry,” Geronimo apologized.
“Why don’t you think I should do it?”
Geronimo looked at Orson. “Don’t get me wrong. I want you to do it.
I’ve been thinking about scalping him myself. But don’t you recall what Plato said to us right before we departed the Home?”
“Refresh my memory.”
“He told us he was counting on us,” Geronimo said. “He said all his hopes and aspirations were riding with us. And he added it would be up to us to set an example for all the others. If all of us can’t get along, how could anyone expect the Family, the Cavalry, and the Moles to exist in peace?”
“Ain’t no skin off my nose, pard.”
“Plato is counting on us,” Geronimo stressed.
Hickok sighed and slammed his door. “All right.” He glanced at Orson.
“It’s against my better judgment, but I’m gonna give you one more chance.”
Orson gulped. “I appreciate it.”
“But if I were you,” Hickok added, “I’d take the advice of my grandmother. If you don’t have anything nice to say about others, keep your damn trap shut!”
Blade grinned and started the SEAL, wondering if Hickok really would have shot Orson or if the gunman was merely applying some basic psychology. Because, as much as he hated to admit it, they would need Orson in the days ahead. Need him badly.
Bertha reached over and tickled Orson’s chin. “No hard feelings, are there?”
“No hard feelings,” Orson mumbled.
Lynx cackled. “This is just what I like.”
“What is?” Rudabaugh asked.
“We’re all one big, happy family!”
Chapter Four
He was bedded down for the night, camped under an overhanging rock at the base of a steep ridge. His horse was tethered nearby, munching on the grass and other edibles he’d gathered before nightfall. He deliberately maintained a low fire to minimize the risk of detection. Absently chewing on a piece of jerky, he gazed out at the twinkling stars.
Why was he doing this? he asked himself for the umpteenth time. What was he trying to prove?
The going had been easier than he’d expected. Staying on course wasn’t difficult; every Family member was taught to read the stars and navigate by the sun at an early age. Even hiding in one of the convoy trucks when they departed the Home had been simple, facilitated by the stacks and stacks of provisions affording ample hiding places. Once the column was on its way, the hard part had begun: keeping out of sight of Beta Triad and anyone else who might recognize him. Mingling with the Moles and the Cavalry had posed no problem, nor had stealing his mount to complete his journey.
So here he was, not half a day from his destination, if he read the map right.
Could he really go through with it?
Should he really go through with it?
Yes! he told himself.
He had to do it.
Even if he failed, even if they put him to death, at least he would know for certain before he died.
He had to know.
The question demanded an answer. It had been burning at his insides for weeks.
Longer.
Even since the trip to Thief River Falls.
Hickok couldn’t be right! He couldn’t be! There had to be more to life than kill or be killed!
He wearily rubbed his forehead.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried to see it their way. Dear Spirit, he had even killed! Killed! Taken the lives of his spiritual brothers and sisters!
How could he have fallen so far so fast? How could he have permitted himself to be drawn down to their level? Was it a lack of faith? A lack of dedication? What?
Whatever it was, this trip was essential to his well-being. He would try it his way for a change. There was always the distinct possibility he would fail, but the prospect of defeat was secondary to knowing he had tried his best.
After all, perfection of purpose counted for something.
He closed his eyes and silently prayed. “O Divine Maker and Sustainer, please guide your servant Joshua in this enterprise. Lead me by the hand, and enable me to reveal the full glory of the knowledge of sonship with the First Source and Universe Center. We are all your children, and you have commanded us to love one another even as you love us. Help me. Father, to love others. Let my light so shine with the brilliance of your love that all others will recognize your presence in me and be led to worship your greatness. Steady me in the confrontation ahead. I pray I may be successful in my goal. I pray I may reveal your love to the Doktor.”
Chapter Five
Yet another sleepless night compelled Plato to arise early and tiptoe from the cabin without awakening his darling wife, Nadine. He stood near the door and sadly gazed at the first trace of light on the eastern horizon.
Was it the senility or something else? Why was he so uneasy?
Plato clasped his hands behind his stooped back and walked eastward, toward the fields and wooded sections preserved in the eastern part of the Home. The cabins for the married couples and families were aligned in the middle of the 30-acre plot, while the western portion contained the six concrete blocks and the open space used for Family social and religious activities.
If all was proceeding according to plan. Blade and the others would be assuming control of Catlow today. If the Doktor took the bait, the next phase would swing into operation. And if the column adhered to his explicit dictates, the Freedom Federation would score a major victory in its battle against the oppressive Civilized Zone.
There were so many ifs.
So many variables.
The Freedom Federation had been his idea. Actually, he had favored the designation Freedom Confederation, but when the final tally had been taken, after Zahner had expressed his preference for the “snappier” Freedom Federation, the leaders of the unifying factions had opted for Zahner’s choice.
Quibbling over the title would have been inane. The primary achievement was effecting the union of such diverse groups.
The Cavalry people had been easy to convince. They had suffered repeatedly from raids by Civilized Zone forces. Based in eastern South Dakota, the Cavalry was the closest to the Civilized Zone. Originally formed as a protective association immediately after World War III, a vigilante group devoted to defending the residents from looters, scavengers, and Government troops, the Cavalry was now a precision military force with approximately 700 armed and mounted riders at its disposal. Its leader, a rugged man named Kilrane, had eagerly embraced the concept of the Freedom Federation and an assault on the Civilized Zone. Kilrane and over 500 of the Cavalry were now leading the attack column. Because 6 of the Family’s 15 Warriors were also on the expedition, Kilrane had graciously left 20 of his men, under the command of a gunman called Boone, at the Home as support for Spartacus and the other remaining Warriors.