What’s with all this purple, Hickok wondered? He vaguely remembered reading in the Family school about the practice of ancient royalty adorning themselves with the color purple. Why, he couldn’t recall.
Personally, he didn’t think the color was so hot. Give him a blue or a green any day.
Wolfe was reclining on the bed, propped up on four large pillows.
“Come, my dear. It’s useless to resist.”
Sherry was standing at the foot of the bed, her back to Hickok. Her entire bearing was one of sheer defiance. “You don’t hear very well, do you? There’s no way you’re going to get me in this bed with you!”
Wolfe, smiling like a giant cat preparing to pounce on its helpless prey, reached overhead and pulled on a rope hanging from the ceiling.
From his vantage point, Hickok was unable to see what the rope was attached to, but he did spot his cherished Colts, still strapped to Wolfe’s lean waist.
A door at the other end of the room suddenly opened and Goldman entered. He crossed to the bed and bowed. “Your orders, sir?”
Goldman was unarmed.
Hickok inched his door open, thankful a dresser partially obscured him from the others.
“This wench refuses the honor of sleeping with me,” Wolfe declared indignantly. “You will strip her and bind her arms for me.”
“As you wish,” Goldman obediently responded, bowing.
“Just try it!” Sherry warned.
Goldman, relishing his task, walked toward the blonde, his lips curled in a vicious sneer. “You’ll do as you’re told, bitch!” He lunged for the woman.
Sherry, retreating, lost her footing and fell.
Goldman covered the three feet between them and stood at her feet, gloating. “I’m looking forward to this,” he growled.
“Then I sure hope you can handle disappointment,” said a new voice, and Hickok stepped into view, the Henry leveled and ready.
“You!” Goldman hissed, enraged. “Here!”
“Did you think I would leave without saying so long?” Hickok asked sarcastically. “After all we’ve meant to each other?”
Wolfe, incredibly, was smiling, at ease. “It appears I have greatly underestimated you, Hickok. I won’t make that mistake ever again.”
“You won’t get the chance,” Hickok assured him. “Undo your belt and slide my Pythons over here. Slowly! One hasty move, and the Moles will need a new leader.”
Wolfe carefully complied, depositing the Colts at the foot of his bed.
“Now, Sherry,” Hickok said, keeping his eyes on the two Moles. “Stand up. Don’t get between Goldman and me! That’s it! Come over here and take the Henry.”
Sherry’s affection was radiating from her relieved face as she raised the Henry to her shoulder.
“Keep it on Wolfe,” Hickok advised. “If he reaches for that rope, put a bullet between his eyes.”
“With pleasure,” Sherry assured him.
Hickok, warily watching the red-faced Goldman, sauntered to the bed and lifted his Colts. “I’ll never let these babies out of my sight again,” he vowed.
“What’s next?” Wolfe inquired as the gunfighter slid the Pythons into his own empty holsters.
“If you’re a good little boy, and keep your big mouth shut, you may come out of this alive,” Hickok stated.
“How do I rate?” Wolfe, surprised, questioned him.
“Let’s just say I’m in a generous mood,” Hickok replied. “Plus you’re going to give me your word that you’ll stop your raids until we send a delegation from the Family and hold a conference with you.”
“Why should I give my word?”
“Do you care about your people?”
“Of course I do!”
“Then why shouldn’t you give your word? What have you got to lose?
My Family can assist your people in learning to live off the land, in improving their lives. You keep on the way you’re going, and sooner or later the Moles will run into someone bigger and stronger. Your Mound will be reduced to a pile of rubble.” Hickok paused, studying the Mole leader. Had he read the man right? Was there a chance of striking a deal with this pompous ass?
“Stop… raiding?” Wolfe said, his brow creased. “I don’t know if my people are ready to change.”
“Oh, come off it!” Hickok retorted. “Are you going to spend all eternity in this mud heap? Wouldn’t you like to live above ground again, breathing fresh air and enjoying the sunlight?”
Wolfe stared at Hickok. “You are a constant source of amazement to me.”
“What about it?” Hickok pressed him. “Do I have your word? Prove you’re a real leader, and not just a walking hard-on with a cock for brains.”
Wolfe, offended, almost returned the insult. Instead, he composed himself and smiled. “I give you my word I will not order any more raids until I hear from you. But I must warn you. I think you expect too much from my people.”
“I thought you said you’d never underestimate anyone again,” Hickok remarked.
“I take back what I said before,” Wolfe commented. “You do have an intellect. You simply hide it well.”
“What about me?” Goldman snarled.
“Ahhhhh. You.” Hickok faced Goldman and deliberately drew his Pythons.
Goldman, expecting to be gunned down, flinched.
Hickok moved forward, stopping a foot from his implacable foe.
“Go ahead! Shoot!” Goldman defiantly blustered. “I didn’t think you had the guts to take me on one-on-one.”
Hickok, grinning, shoved his lefthand Colt under Goldman’s leather belt, underneath the waistband near the navel, leaving the butt free. He took two steps backward and aligned his other Python in a similar position under his belt. “Any time,” he said in a menacing tone, “you think you’re ready.”
Goldman, slack-jawed, gaped at the revolver at his waist.
“Something wrong?” Hickok asked.
Goldman glanced at Wolfe.
“He challenged you,” the Mole leader stated matter-of-factly. “Don’t look at me for help.”
Goldman, pale and sweating, stared at Hickok. “I don’t want to do this,” he protested.
“Pretty feeble excuse,” Hickok remarked. “You have no other choice.”
“What if I don’t draw?” Goldman inquired hopefully.
“I’ll shoot you anyway.”
“You would, wouldn’t you?” Goldman took a deep breath and relaxed his hands.
“Any time you’re ready,” Hickok repeated, patiently standing with his arms at his side.
“I might beat you,” Goldman commented. “I’m not bad with a handgun.”
Hickok waited.
“You’re not as tough as you think you are,” Goldman said, hoping his chatter would distract the gunfighter.
Hickok’s blue eyes were centered on Goldman’s navel.
“Silvester seemed to think you’re a dangerous man,” Goldman mentioned. “Personally, I think you’re an asshole. A dumb asshole, at that.”
Sherry’s heavy breathing filled the chamber.
“Go on!” Goldman suddenly shouted. “Make your play!”
Instead, he made his.
Goldman fancied himself fast, he’d often practiced a quick draw with a pistol he possessed, so as his hand flashed toward the Python, his astonishment was all the more compounded when Hickok’s Colt was already out and up before he even touched the butt on his revolver.
Hickok rammed the barrel of his Python into Goldman’s stomach and pulled the trigger.
The blast of the Colt was effectively muffled by Goldman’s abdomen. He literally flew backward as the slug exited his back, splintering his spinal column. Blood sprayed over the furniture as he stumbled and fell onto his back, his bearded features frozen in a contorted death mask, his green eyes wide in disbelief.
Hickok slowly walked over to the body and picked up his other Colt. He wiped the Python against his pant leg, removing crimson splotches from the pearl handles.