“We were lucky,” Boone conceded halfheartedly.
“Can you imagine it?” Rory went on. “The look on Rolf’s face when he learns I’ve killed his pet executioner, Kilrane? My dear brother might have a heart attack!” Rory threw back his head and laughed.
Boone stared at the Cavalry leader, barely able to suppress his contempt. He mentally castigated himself for not going with Rolf and Kilrane a decade ago. Why hadn’t he? Because he’d never understood the cause of the breakup, and at the time it transpired he wasn’t aware of Rory’s true nature. But now he was. Now he recognized the man for the devious, spiteful, evil person he really was. What should he do about it?
Gun Rory down? Challenge him to a gunfight? Would the rest of the Cavalry understand? Not many knew Rory as he did.
What to do? What to do?
“Maybe my darling brother will attempt to avenge Kilrane.” Rory was gloating. “Maybe he’ll enter our territory to find me for Kilrane’s death.
Wouldn’t that be great! I’d have that bastard right where I want him!”
Boone thoughtfully bit his lower lip.
“And after the Cavalry and the Legion are reunited, watch out!” Rory raved, his brow covered with sweat, his face flushed, and his eyes wide as he watched a nearby fire. “I have plans! Big plans! You’ll see!”
Yes, sir.
Something needed to be done about Rory, and the sooner, the better.
Boone walked away from Rory and melted into the night, contemplating the best answer to the question of the hour. Of the decade.
But what to do?
Chapter Eleven
“Geronimo? Can you hear me?”
Geronimo’s mind floated in limbo, suspended between consciousness and oblivion, awash in a sea of pain.
“Geronimo? You’ve got to hear me!”
Someone was shaking him and he wished they’d stop. His poor head was pounding like crazy, and his stomach was on the verge of disgorging its contents.
“His eyelids moved!” the someone said. “He’s alive!”
“Told you,” another party chimed in.
“Geronimo! Wake up!”
Geronimo opened his eyes, and for a moment he suffered the delusion they were still closed. Where was the sun? The moon? Any light, for that matter. The world was pitch black.
“Wake up!” a woman goaded him.
Geronimo managed to move his lips, the effort causing considerable torment, his mouth responding sluggishly and his lips apparently swollen.
“Where am I?”
“You’re awake!” the woman squealed in delight, hugging him.
Geronimo realized he was lying on a cool granular surface. His eyes were adjusting to the subdued lighting and he was able to distinguish Cynthia kneeling beside him, his head cradled in her lap. “What happened?” he croaked. His head was pounding and he focused his thoughts with supreme difficulty.
“You fell into one of the pits,” a man remarked pleasantly.
Geronimo turned his face to the right and spotted a dark form crouched six feet away. “Kilrane? Is that you?” he asked.
“None other,” Kilrane replied.
“I think it’s coming back to me,” Geronimo stated, sitting up. “The dust storm. All those holes. And I fell into one.” He swiveled and gripped Cynthia’s slim shoulders. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” Cynthia said. “But you took a nasty spill, and then one of the creatures struck you on the head.”
“Creatures? What creatures?” Geronimo felt Cynthia tremble.
“I don’t know what it was,” Cynthia answered in a low voice. “It was all set to eat you! I didn’t get a real good look at it.”
“Eat me?” Geronimo interrupted.
“…and Kilrane came over the edge of the hole,” Cynthia resumed, “blasting away with his revolver. The thing made this terrible noise… you should have heard it!” She stopped, horrified by the memory.
“What happened then?” Geronimo queried her.
“The thing ran off, still screaming, making this awful racket. Kilrane found this spot before the light faded for good. We’ve been trapped in here for hours and hours,” Cynthia finished.
“Where are we?” Geronimo questioned, glancing around. He could dimly perceive walls of some sort three feet away on either side. Kilrane was about six feet away, near a lighter-shaded space.
“We’re in a crevice not far from the opening you dropped into,” Kilrane answered. “We’d be dead right now if we hadn’t stumbled onto this.”
“Dead? Why?”
“You’ll understand when you see them,” Kilrane promised.
“Them?”
“You’ll see,” was Kilrane’s response.
“Why don’t we leave now?” Geronimo asked.
“Because it’s the middle of the night and we can’t see more than a few feet,” Kilrane explained. “They, evidently, can see real well in the dark. A horde of them went past us while you were out. Thank goodness none of them spotted us in here. It wouldn’t take them long to dig their way in.”
Geronimo discovered he could stand, but not fully erect. His head brushed the roof of the crevice, causing some dirt to trickle over his hair and face. He moved to Kilrane’s side.
“Wait for me!” Cynthia hastily joined them.
“I take it I owe you my life,” Geronimo said to Kilrane. “Thanks.”
“I didn’t have much choice,” Kilrane quipped. “If I hadn’t of shot the damn thing, it would have attacked me next.”
“Did you fall into the pit the same as me?” Geronimo casually inquired.
“Something like that.”
“How far is this crevice from the opening?” Geronimo asked, reaching out to find the crevice exit.
“Not more than twenty yards,” Kilrane revealed. “We got in here just as a bunch of them came running by, heading for the opening, apparently looking for us.”
Geronimo inched forward, groping carefully. He could see the jagged rift separating the crevice from a larger tunnel.
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” Kilrane advised.
“Why?”
“Because they might come by while you’re out there, and they would tear you to pieces before you could do a thing.”
Geronimo stopped four feet from the rift. “Should we be talking like this?” he questioned, concerned their voices might attract the… things.
“Just keep it low,” Kilrane warned. “I don’t think any of them are out there now. Most left at nightfall. Besides, you’ll hear them when they come our way.”
“Kilrane saved your rifle,” Cynthia commented. “Not that it will do us much good.” She picked up an object from the ground. “Here.”
Geronimo took the proffered Marlin and hefted the gun in his right hand, making a fast check with his left; both the Arminius and his tomahawk were still in place. Thank the Spirit! He was still upset over losing one of his prized tomahawks in the Twin Cities a few months before.
“Either of you have any idea how we’ll get out of here?” Cynthia asked them.
“I’m working on one,” Kilrane answered.
“Did you bring your rifle?” Geronimo inquired of Kilrane.
“Didn’t have time,” Kilrane said. “I did think to bring along my lariat.”
“What good is a stupid rope going to do?” Cynthia remarked derisively.
“You never know,” was all Kilrane would say.
Geronimo leaned against the wall of the crevice.
resting his pounding temples. “I don’t think I can wait until morning,” he told the others. “Kilrane, did you see what it was that attacked me?”
“An ant,” Kilrane stated.
“Come again?”
“A giant ant,” Kilrane reiterated. “You had to see it to believe it!”
“I believe it,” Geronimo affirmed. “I’ve seen some of the giants before. A few months ago some friends and I had a disagreement with a huge spider.’’