Chapter Eight
“Watch them,” Blade directed Hickok, then snatched the Commando and dashed after Geronimo to the front porch.
“See?” Geronimo said.
Less than a mile to the southeast a pair of headlights were visible, approaching in the general direction of the farmhouse.
“Get Holly,” Blade directed.
“You’ve got it,” Geronimo responded, and went indoors.
Blade stared at the circles of light, pondering the implications. The hour was still early, too early for anyone to be abroad, for someone to be paying the Eberles a visit. How far would the noise of the shotgun blast have carried? If a Russian patrol heard the sound, they’d undoubtedly investigate. He intended to jump a Soviet squad and confiscate their uniforms, but he wanted to pick the time and the place.
Geronimo returned with Holly.
“What is it?” she queried.
Blade pointed at the distant headlights. “Is there a road to the south of your farm?”
“A dirt lane leads from our farm to a paved road,” Holly said. “I’d say that vehicle is on the road.”
“Are there any other farms nearby? Any turnoffs?”
“Gus Seuell has a farm a quarter of a mile to the east,” Holly mentioned. “To get here, he has to swing around to the south. That could be him.”
“Why would he be coming here at this time of the morning?” Blade questioned.
“I don’t know,” Holly said.
“Is this Seuell a close friend of yours?”
“To tell you the truth, I never much liked Gus. Tim and him were good buddies, but he always made me feel uncomfortable,” Holly disclosed.
“Why?”
Holly shrugged. “I can’t really say. Gus was always nice to me, always considerate. Since Tim was executed, Gus has been over here every day asking if there’s anything he can do to help out. I suppose I should like him more, but my intuition bothers me whenever he’s around.”
“Hmmmmm,” was all Blade said.
“Orders?” Geronimo asked.
“Go inside and turn out all the lights,” Blade stated. “Have Hickok stay in the living room with the Eberles, except for Holly. She’ll be with me.
Find a second-floor window and be ready if I give the signal.”
“What about the dead dogs?”
“I’ll hide them,” Blade proposed. “Get going.”
Geronimo departed.
“What about me?” Holly queried.
“You can remain on the porch or come with me,” Blade said, striding down the steps.
“I’ll go with you,” Holly said, following. “I must be crazy. You killed most of our dogs, broke into our house, and yet I feel safe around you.”
Blade looked at her. “I’m truly sorry about the dogs. I tried to avoid harming them. They didn’t leave us any choice.”
“Farm dogs are very territorial,” Holly commented.
The large brown dog and the small black and white canine abruptly raced around a yellow poplar tree on the left, growling as they neared the Warrior.
“Daffodil! Buttercup! No!” Holly declared. “Stop!”
They checked their rush, growling and glaring at Blade.
“Go to the barn!” Holly directed. “The barn! Go! Now!”
Buttercup and Daffodil, unwilling but obedient, padded off.
“The barn!” Holly called after them. “Go to the barn!”
“Thanks,” Blade said. “I didn’t want to kill them too.” He walked to the corpses of the five dead dogs.
“Sweet Jesus!” Holly blurted out when she spied the bodies.
Blade slung the Commando over his left arm and grabbed one of the dogs by the scruff of the neck. He lugged the canine to a nearby lilac bush and placed it at the base of the ten-foot high shrub. He arranged the lower branches and leaves to partially screen the dead dog, then stepped back to inspect his handiwork. Unless someone was within a yard or two of the lilac bush, he doubted the corpse could be seen. Working quickly, he brought the other bodies over and hid them in the shadows.
“I’d better bury them before Danny and Claudia see them,” Holly remarked.
“We’ll bury them before we leave,” Blade said, and turned to the southwest. The headlights were a half mile distant, intermittently discernible, their glimmering radiance eclipsed by periodic stands of trees. He glanced at the barn and noticed a driveway on the south side.
The gravel drive widened and extended to within 15 yards of the farmhouse. A cement walk connected the end of the driveway to the front steps.
“Do you mind if I ask a few questions?” Holly queried.
“No,” Blade replied, walking toward the porch.
“Why are you here?”
“I can’t divulge the reason we came to Ohio,” Blade said.
“The Soviets have renamed Ohio and call it Novgorod,” Holly divulged, “but that’s not what I meant. Why are you at our farm?”
“This was as good a place as any to acquire the information we need.”
“About what?”
“Cincinnati. Have you visited the city?”
“Fairly frequently, particularly within the past year. Tim’s trial was held in Cincinnati, and I was in the courtroom every day.”
“Then you can provide a diagram of the streets and the Soviet installations.”
“You plan to take on the Russians?”
Blade nodded. The house, he observed, was shrouded in gloom.
“Just the three of you?”
Blade nodded again.
“You’re nuts.”
“So we’ve been told.”
Holly scrutinized the giant as they climbed the stairs and paused.
“What do you hope to accomplish?”
“I can’t say.”
“I don’t know why I should, but I’ll do what I can to help you. I hate the damn Commies, and if you’re going to give them a taste of their own medicine, then I’m all for it.”
“Let’s just say that they’ll know we’ve been there.”
Holly grinned. “Real men at last!”
Blade glanced at her. “Real men?”
“Most of the people have given up on the idea of opposing the Russians.
There’s the underground movement, but they’re not very effective. They try to slip food to the needy, but they don’t commit any violent acts because they’re afraid of reprisals. It’s nice to see men who aren’t afraid, who aren’t cowed by the Commies.”
“You can’t blame the people. Most, like your husband, probably have families, loved ones they wouldn’t want to see harmed. Your Tim sounds like he was a… real man. The measure of manhood does not lie in a man’s capacity for violence.”
Holly folded her hands at her waist and gazed at him. “You’re a strange one.”
“Do you think any less of Tim even though he didn’t rebel openly?”
“No, I don’t,” Holly conceded.
“I rest my case.”
“Are there others like you where you come from?”
“Quite a few.”
“Too bad there aren’t enough of you to overthrow the Russians.”
“One day, maybe,” Blade said.
“I hope it happens during my lifetime. I want to see them ground into the dust. I want every last one of the mothers pushing up daisies,” Holly stated harshly.
Blade grinned. “Maybe you should start a revolution yourself.”
“Maybe I will.”
The headlights were now several hundred yards south of the barn.
“Let’s go in,” Blade said, and opened the door for her. Once they were both in the hallway, he closed the door and positioned himself to the left, near the hinges.
“What do I do?” Holly inquired.
“We wait to see who it is,” Blade responded. “If they come to the door and knock, don’t answer for at least a minute. We want them to think that they roused you out of bed.”
Holly reached out and flicked a metal button underneath the doorknob.