“Doesn’t mean a thing,” Hickok disagreed. “We took them by surprise.
The real crunch will come when we’re on the receiving end. Personally, I don’t think Orson will hold up.”
Blade gazed at the starry sky. “We’ll wait a while longer before we make our move.”
“Should we break out the jerky and water?” Hickok asked.
“Sounds like a good idea,” Blade said.
Hickok started to go.
“Wait,” Blade said.
“What is it, pard?”
“I never got around to asking you,” Blade noted. “How did Sherry take to this campaign?” Sherry was Hickok’s wife.
The gunman laughed. “She didn’t want me to come. She said she thought Plato’s plan is too risky, and I had to agree it is a mite on the cockamamie side. She was worried I might get hurt, which is only natural seeing she worships the ground I walk on.”
Blade chuckled. “I’ll bet what she loves the most about you is your humility.”
“How did Jenny take it?” Hickok queried, referring to Blade’s spouse.
“The same as Sherry. Geronimo’s wife probably reacted the same way,” Blade commented.
“Not quite, pard,” Hickok said.
“What do you mean?”
“I was talking to Geronimo a while ago,” Hickok explained. “He claimed Cynthia told him to kick ass and bring back some white scalps.”
“He was pulling your leg.”
“I figured as much,” Hickok said. “That mangy Injun wouldn’t tell me the truth if his life depended on it.”
Blade smiled. “You do the same to him. That’s what you get for having him as one of your best friends.”
“Yeah.” Hickok smiled also. “We know we can count on him when the going gets rough.”
“And Bertha has proven herself in combat,” Blade remarked. “How do you rate Rudabaugh and Lynx?”
“I like Rudabaugh,” Hickok declared. “He’s right handy with those pistols of his, but the poor boy suffers from delusions.”
“Delusions?”
“Yep. He told me he’d like to have a shooting contest. The dummy thinks he might be able to beat me.”
“One of these days,” Blade told him, “you may meet your match.”
Hickok snorted. “Thanks for the vote of confidence! The only way anybody is going to beat me is if they tie my hands behind my back.”
“What do you think of Lynx?” Blade inquired.
“That hombre is downright loco,” Hickok responded.
“Nathan,” Blade said, using the gunfighter’s given name, the name his parents had bestowed, the one he had used for the first sixteen years of his life before he had selected Hickok at his Naming. “Are you sure you’re talking like the real James Butler Hickok would have talked when you try to sound like him?”
“What?”
“Never mind.” Blade sighed. “So do you like Lynx or not?”
“There’s no doubt the furry runt can kill,” Hickok said. “He just takes some getting used to, is all. I mean, when you saved Gremlin from the Doktor in Kalispell and brought him back to the Home, he took some getting used to also. But I like him fine. I do know I could count on Lynx to back my play in a pinch, which is more than I can say for that wimp Orson.” He paused. “I wonder how the Doktor does it?” he asked thoughtfully. “How does the madman make critters like Lynx and Gremlin and all the others?”
“Beats me,” Blade confessed. “I think Plato and the Elders are close to understanding the process.”
A twig abruptly snapped behind them, and Hickok reacted instantly, his hands flashing to his Pythons, the revolvers clearing leather faster than the eye could follow. His thumbs were cocking the hammers when he recognized his intended target.
“Damn it, you idiot!” Hickok exclaimed. “I could of blown you away!”
His body was half-twisted in the direction of the newcomer.
“Not the pitiful way you shoot,” a husky feminine voice taunted him.
“Bertha! What are you doing up here?” Blade demanded. “Did somebody call a meeting and forget to tell me about it?”
“Be cool, baby,” Bertha advised him, kneeling next to Hickok. She was a lovely, statuesque woman, with dusky skin and curly black hair; one of her parents had been black, the other white. Her clothing, fatigues confiscated from a deceased soldier, blended nicely with the night. Alpha Triad had rescued her months before from an Army contingent in Thief River Falls, Minnesota. Originally from the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul, where she had served as a “soldier” in a faction called the Nomads, she had later become instrumental in assisting the Family in relocating the inhabitants of the Twin Cities to a deserted town known as Halma, situated very close to the Home. The Home itself was located on the outskirts of the former Lake Bronson State Park. “I wanted some fresh air,” Bertha stated. “Besides, you got no call to get on my case. But I want you to know I’m still ticked at you for what you did today.”
“Me?” Blade touched his chest. “What did I do?”
“You left me behind to babysit the buggy while you boys”—she emphasized that word—“went off to get your jollies. I didn’t like it but I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others and show them you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing?” Blade retorted.
Bertha playfully slapped Hickok’s shoulder. “Do you hear this bozo? He has a short memory. Who was it who almost got us killed when we made that run to the Twin Cities? Who was it who almost lost his gonads to the Wacks?” She stopped and pointed at Hickok’s Pythons. “You gonna put them away or shoot me, White Meat?”
Hickok, absorbed in her tirade against Blade, had forgotten to replace his Colts. He promptly twirled them into their respective holsters. “Keep goin’, Black Beauty,” he urged her. “I’m enjoying this.”
“I’ll bet you are,” Blade cracked.
Bertha faced Blade. “You ain’t off the hook yet, sucker! Why’d you do it?
I can hold my own, and you know it. Why didn’t you let one of them other jerks guard the SEAL today?”
“You’ve got it all backwards,” Blade informed her.
“Oh, yeah?” Bertha responded skeptically. “Then set me straight.”
Blade put his brawny right hand on her shoulder. “Bertha, I’d never treat you differently because you’re a woman. Remember, I’m the one who picked two women to be Warriors in the Family. I happen to think women can handle combat as competently as men, provided it’s the right woman—”
“What do you mean by that?” Bertha curtly cut him off.
“Just what I said. Certain women are natural fighters, others aren’t. It’s the same with men. Some make excellent fighters, while others don’t. You’ve met Joshua. He’s a case in point. He’s too spiritual to become an effective fighter. Why do you think my Family has such an arduous selection process for the status of Warrior? Why is our screening of potential candidates so rigorous?”
“You still haven’t told me why you left me behind today,” Bertha noted.
“You were the logical choice.”
“How so?”
Blade pointed at the SEAL. “You know how important our transport is. It’s essential to the Family’s welfare. So put yourself in my shoes. There I was, about to leave the SEAL unprotected in enemy territory. I had to leave a guard. But who could I pick? Lynx or Rudabaugh or Orson? Not likely. I don’t know any of them well enough to trust them alone with something as valuable as the SEAL. Hickok or Geronimo? They’re my Triad partners. We trained together, and we’ve fought side by side for years. I needed them with me to maximize our capability. There was only one person I trusted enough to leave with the SEAL, only one person whose ability and reliability I could count on.”
Bertha beamed. “Me?”