The night sky was filled with stars and a half-moon.
“Are you coming with us?” Hickok asked Wally.
The big man shook his head. “I’ve got to go to Ten-strike and see if I can find my family.”
“Good luck,” Sherry offered.
“May the Spirit guide you,” Hickok stated. “You’re welcome at our Home any time.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“So long,” Shane said.
Wally, carrying a rifle, with a pistol around his waist, waved and walked into the woods.
“Which way?” Shane asked, likewise armed with one of the door guard’s pistols and a rifle.
“Which way do you think?” Hickok retorted. “I’m not about to sponsor someone for Warrior status if they can’t read the stars.”
“Spon…” Shane sputtered, staring at the gunman in disbelief. “You can’t mean it! Not after the way I’ve handled myself.”
“I intend to do it because of the way you’ve handled yourself,” Hickok explained. “You did real well down there. Although,” he paused, “you’re a mite too quiet for my tastes.”
“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” Shane explained. “I’ve felt like I’ve failed everybody. You. My father. Plato. I’ve been dreading going back, thinking everyone would laugh at me.”
“When you make stupid mistakes,” Hickok said, “you’ve got to expect folks to laugh at you. If you have a sense of humor, you’ll get through it okay.”
“Then you’re really going to sponsor me?” Shane inquired hopefully.
“I’m a man of my word.”
Shane clenched his fists and spun in his tracks, laughing.
“Try to control your enthusiasm,” Hickok stated. “We’d best put as much distance between the Moles and us as we can, and do it fast.”
“Don’t you trust Wolfe?” Sherry asked.
“Not until he proves he’s trustworthy,” Hickok replied. He reached out and grabbed her, pulling her into his arms and embracing her.
“Please! Shane’s right here!”
“So he’ll learn something. What’s with the sudden modesty?”
Sherry squirmed playfully in his arms. “You said we had to get out of here,” she reminded him.
“There’s always time for this,” Hickok declared, kissing her passionately on the lips.
Shane, embarrassed, politely turned away, keeping his eyes on the trap door and the surrounding forest.
The kiss lingered and lingered.
Sherry, at last, pulled back, her eyes closed, her warm form straining against his hard body. “MMMMMMmmmmmm. Nice.”
“Did you just hear something?” Shane inquired.
“Like what?” Hickok asked, nibbling on Sherry’s left ear.
“I don’t know…” the youth stated uncertainly.
“Don’t move!”
The harsh command, barked from the concealing cover of the encircling forest, riveted the trio where they stood.
Blast! How could he have been so dumb? Hickok abruptly realized they were standing in the center of a clearing approximately twenty feet in diameter, completely enclosed by the dense forest.
“Don’t move!” the deep voice bellowed again.
“It was a trap!” Sherry whispered to Hickok. “They were waiting for us!”
“They sure were,” Hickok replied through clenched teeth.
“But how…?”
“Wolfe,” Hickok deduced. “They found the guards we overpowered before we reached his chambers. He must have figured we’d come after you and set this whole thing up. Pretty clever of the bastard! And I fell for it, like the prize sucker of the year!”
Moles were cautiously emerging from the woods. One of them, the apparent leader, held a rifle barrel to Wally’s head.
Six. Seven. Nine. Ten counting the guy shoving Wally. Hickok took a step to his left, away from Sherry.
One of the Moles fired his rifle, the slug narrowly missing the gunfighter’s moccasins.
“I warned you not to move,” the tall leader reiterated. “Do it again and we’ll finish you off right here and now, no matter what Wolfe wants.”
“My compliments to Wolfe,” Hickok said, grinning.
“This shows real finesse. I didn’t think he had it in him.”
“Shut your face!” the tall Mole ordered. “We could care less what you think. Drop your weapons. Now!”
“Sorry, Hickok,” Wally apologized. “They caught me by surprise.” His hands were raised over his head and he was unarmed.
“Quiet!” the leader snapped, ramming his rifle barrel into Wally’s lower back.
Wally grimaced and doubled over, clutching his back.
Perfect! Now he had a better shot. Hickok slowly inched his body sideways.
The tall Mole was glaring at Wally. “You speak when you’re spoken to, and not before!”
Six of the Moles sported rifles, the rest handguns. They encircled their prisoners, but only five of the ten actually had their guns aimed at the three in the middle of the clearing.
Doubly perfect! Hickok almost laughed. The Moles were confident in their superior numbers, and some of them manifested an air of nonchalance, evidently convinced there wouldn’t be any resistance.
Were they in for a surprise!
“Drop your guns!” the leader angrily demanded. “I won’t say it again!” he threatened.
Sherry released the Henry and it fell to the ground.
Shane dropped his rifle and reached for his pistol.
“When I move,” Hickok whispered, “you two hit the dirt.”
Shane held the pistol in his right hand.
“Toss it,” Hickok said out of the corner of his mouth.
Shane, puzzled, looked at Hickok.
“I’m waiting!” the tall Mole barked.
“Toss it!” Hickok hissed. “Up!”
Shane glanced at Sherry, shrugged, and obeyed. He flipped the pistol into the air.
It was the moment Hickok needed.
The Moles, taken unawares by this unforeseen maneuver, automatically fixed their attention on the pistol, watching the weapon fly end over end upward. For an instant, their collective gaze was distracted from their intended captives.
In a blur of motion, Hickok drew his Colt Pythons, thankful the night was dark, limiting their reaction time. In the three seconds it took the Moles to wake up to the ruse played on them, the Family’s pre-eminent gunman fired four times.
Hickok’s first shot took out the tall Mole, the leader of the ambush, catching him in the forehead and flipping him backward.
The second shot downed the Mole on the leader’s right.
Hickok continued his turn, going for the head as he invariably did, felling two more Moles.
Sherry dived for the Henry as the Moles opened fire. Something buzzed near her head as she grabbed the 44-40, quickly sighted, and pulled the trigger. The big gun boomed, jarring her shoulder. One of the Moles was flung four feet to the ground.
Shane experienced a stinging sensation in his left arm and knew he’d been creased. He used his right hand to snatch the pistol as it descended, whirling and firing three times at the nearest foe.
The blasting of the gunfire attained a staggering intensity, becoming a thunderous din, deafening to the ear, shattering the serenity of the night and startling all the wildlife for a mile in every direction.
Then abrupt silence.
The perimeter of the clearing was littered with bodies contorted in the throes of violent death. An acrid, burning odor filled the air.
Hickok, his Pythons held at waist level, searched the Moles for any indication of life.
There was none.
“Anyone hit?” Hickok asked, reluctant to glance at Sherry for fear she was a casualty of the conflict.
“I’m in one piece.” Her voice floated up to him, and relief washed over him like a cold bath on a hot day. She rose, staring in amazement at the Moles. “We did it! I don’t believe it!”