“You hope,” Wally muttered.
“We’re wasting time. Move it out,” Hickok ordered, gesturing with the Winchester.
Wally, grumbling under his breath, reluctantly led them to the left.
They traversed tunnel after tunnel, always avoiding those tunnels filled with traffic where possible. Where they couldn’t avoid them, they bluffed their way through, walking in the darker areas and smiling at everyone they passed. Several times Wally became lost and they were forced to retrace their steps. Hours passed.
“Can’t we take a break?” Wally asked at one point. “My feet are killing me?”
“And what do you think the Moles will do if they find us?” Hickok reminded him.
Wally kept walking.
More time elapsed.
Shane, now behind the other two, was reflecting on his recent actions and dreading his homecoming. His father might tan his hide from one end of the Home to the other; if not physically, then at least verbally. Plato might censure him in front of the assembled Family for his blatant stupidity. Hickok would likely never consent to sponsor him to become a Warrior. His girlfriend, Jane, would undoubtedly drop him for someone else. And all because he wanted to make an impression.
He’d made an impression, all right.
As a first-class jackass!
Dumb! Dumb! Dumb!
Shane frowned, recalling his motives. He wanted to become a Warrior because he was bored with the dull routine of Family life. Excitement!
That’s what he craved. Excitement and adventure, lured by the illusion of a Warrior’s glamorous life. Maybe, he realized, his motives were all wrong.
Maybe the reason Hickok, Blade, Geronimo, and the rest made such outstanding Warriors was because they were devoted to protecting the Family and safeguarding the Home. They cared about each and every Family member. Look at Hickok! The gunman had traveled all those miles, through hostile territory, just to rescue him from his own foolishness. Why didn’t Hickok just let him reap the results of his own stupidity? Because the gunfighter cared. Hickok would have done the same for any Family member because the family came first, his own life second. He put the welfare of the Family above his own safety.
That, Shane decided, was what made the difference.
Caring.
To qualify as a Warrior, you had to sincerely care.
Which only left one question.
Did he?
“Guard,” Wally whispered, terminating Shane’s reverie.
They were in a narrow tunnel with sparse lighting. A single Mole, armed with a rifle, was casually strolling toward them.
Shane hugged the shadows, trying to be inconspicuous.
“Good evening,” the Mole greeted them as he passed.
“Howdy, pard,” Hickok, from habit, replied.
The Mole stopped and turned, puzzled. “What did you just say?”
“Blast!” Hickok exclaimed. He whirled and bashed the unprepared Mole on the forehead with the Winchester stock twice in rapid succession.
The Mole staggered against the wall, then slid soundlessly to the floor.
Wally was watching the incident, grinning.
“You have something to say?” Hickok demanded, annoyed at his own carelessness.
“Nothing at all,” Wally said.
“I did it so you’d have a rifle too,” Hickok fibbed.
“Uh-huh.” Wally nodded, picking the Mole’s weapon up from the floor.
He resumed their trek, glancing over his right shoulder at Hickok.
“Nothing at all,” he repeated.
The tunnels seemed endless.
“How much farther?” Shane inquired after a while.
“It shouldn’t be too much longer,” Wally answered. “We should reach a major intersection, and that’s when the hard…”
Without warning, the tunnel curved sharply and branched at the junction of five other tunnels. The volume of traffic was considerably heavier as the Moles hurried about their business.
Wally motioned for them to back away from the intersection until they were out of sight. “Wolfe’s private chambers are down the hall to the right.
He’s the only one who lives along that tunnel and there will be guards.”
“How many?” Hickok asked.
“Beats me.” Wally shrugged.
“Okay. Here’s what we’ll do.” Hickok detailed his plan, took their rifles, and marched them to the intersection, their arms in the air. They turned to the right and discovered a well-lit tunnel leading to a huge wooden door.
A pair of guards were on duty.
Evidently, Hickok mused, Wolfe isn’t expecting a revolution.
The taller of the two guards noticed them first. “Hey. What do we have here?”
“Hold it right there!” Hickok barked at Shane and Wally.
“What is this?” the tall Mole demanded.
“Is Wolfe here?” Hickok asked.
“He’s in,” the guard replied. “Why…?”
“I was ordered to bring these two here. Wolfe wants to see them right away,” Hickok said, fabricating a reason for their presence.
“I wasn’t told anything about this,” the tall guard stated suspiciously.
“You wait right here while I check with Wolfe.” He reached for the door handle, then paused, staring at Hickok’s buckskins. “Wait a minute! Those clothes! I heard about you! You’re the…”
Hickok was on him before the Mole could move, the barrel of the Winchester pressed against the man’s right ear. “One word,” Hickok warned, “and I’ll splatter your brains all over the door. The same goes for your friend!”
The second guard, like the tall one, was armed with a pistol. His left hand hovered above his holster.
“Don’t do it!” the tall Mole urged. “He’ll kill me!”
Hickok waited until the smaller guard relaxed his hand, then tossed the other rifles to Wally and Shane. “Cover them,” he directed.
“Where the hell are you going?” Wally queried nervously.
“Hold the door until I get back,” Hickok said over his shoulder as he slowly opened the door and eased inside.
Wally, covering the guards, glanced at Shane. The youth was facing the intersection, twenty yards distant. “You say you have others like him at this Home of yours?”
“We have other Warriors, yes,” Shane answered.
Wally shook his head. “I’m surprised your Family has lasted as long as it has.”
Hickok, closing the door behind him, overheard Wally’s comments and smiled. As he released the handle, a glimmer of reflected candlelight caught his attention. He glanced down, to his left.
The Navy Arms Henry Carbine was leaning against the wall.
Eureka! He exchanged the Winchester he was carrying for his Henry, happily cradling the Carbine in his arms. Now all he needed was his Pythons and Sherry and he’d be a happy man.
The antechamber he was in, about five square yards in size, was littered with Wolfe’s clothing and personal effects.
The man is a lousy housekeeper, Hickok noted as he crossed to another door on the far side of the antechamber.
Voices.
Hickok levered a round into the chamber and cautiously cracked the door.
“…want you willingly, but I’ll take you by force if need be.” It was Wolfe speaking.
“You just try it and I’ll bite your nose off!”
Hickok grinned. Sherry was as feisty as ever!
The spacious room beyond was decorated with plunder from the Moles’ many raids. Plush furniture and fixtures were positioned in random fashion. The center of the room was dominated by a pair of king-size beds placed side by side, both covered with immaculate purple blankets.