He shook with Joshua and indicated an empty chair on the other side of the table. “Have a seat and we’ll get you something to drink.”
“Thank you.” Joshua sat.
Blade frowned. Joshua had sat in a chair located between his position against the wall and the big man at the table, something a trained Warrior would never do. His line of fire was blocked. Pretending to be interested in surveying the room, he leisurely moved several paces to his right, insuring a clear shot at the two sitting at the table and the man leaning against the rail.
Hickok had walked in, directly up to the bar. He smiled at the man behind the counter, placed his Henry on the bar top, and rested his hands on the edge of the bar. His body was angled sideways, allowing him to keep his eyes on all four men. “I sure could use a drink, pard,” he said to the barman. “You got any fresh milk?”
The barman laughed. “Milk?”
“Yep. Milk,” Hickok answered, still smiling, his eyes gleaming.
“Sorry, sonny.” The barman guffawed. “We ate our cow a while back.”
“What do you have?” Hickok’s hands lowered almost imperceptibly.
“The real article.” The man reached under the bar and froze, his eyes widening.
Hickok’s Pythons were pointed directly at his face.
“Whew! Did you see him draw?” Joe exclaimed. “Did you see him draw?”
“I saw,” came from Bert. He was standing just inside the doorway, his right hand resting on his revolver.
“He’s fast!” Joe glanced at Bert. “Maybe the fastest I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Bert remarked testily. “I know one person who could match him.”
“Now who would that be?” Joe chuckled, baiting Bert.
“Hey, mister,” the barman said to Hickok. “I ain’t reaching for a gun.”
“Bring your hand up slow,” Hickok stated through clenched teeth. “Real slow.”
The barman complied, raising a bottle and gently placing it on the bar.
“This is what I was getting. You wanted something to drink, remember?”
Hickok relaxed a bit. He twirled his Colts and slid them into their holsters. “What is that stuff?”
“Whiskey. Top grade too.”
“Whiskey? I’ve never had it. What’s it like?”
The barman gaped at Hickok. “Never had whiskey? Where you from, sonny? Another planet?”
Hickok didn’t answer.
Joshua cleared his throat. “You’ll have to forgive my impetuous friend,” he said to Joe. “He evidently enjoys demonstrating his skill with firearms every opportunity he gets.”
“Really?” Joe thoughtfully replied. He quickly glanced at Bert, then his eyes darted toward Hickok.
Blade was the only one who caught the motion. He watched out of the corner of his left eye and saw Bert move four steps to his left, still holding the butt of his revolver. Bert was now directly behind Hickok, about twenty feet away, out of Hickok’s range of vision. Blade knew they were setting themselves, biding their time. He abruptly realized the man they had seen on the roof was not in the room. Where was he? Upstairs?
Outside, stalking Geronimo? Geronimo could take care of himself. They had five men in this room to deal with.
“So,” the man called Joe said to Joshua, “Where you boys from?”
Joshua opened his mouth to answer, but Blade cut him off. “Here and there.”
Joe gazed at Blade. “Don’t mean to be nosy!” He spread his large hands on the table. “Just trying to start conversation, is all. I take it that Sammy didn’t send you?”
“Sammy?” Joshua repeated, puzzled. “Who is Sammy?”
“The big man,” Joe said solemnly. “Top dog. What Sammy says goes.”
“Where does this Sammy live?” Joshua asked.
“South of here a ways. We do some trading with Sammy from time to time. Run errands when Sammy needs it. Things like that.”
“We don’t have a Sammy in our Family,” Joshua said. “At least, I don’t think we do.”
“You must have one hell of a big family if you don’t even know everyone who’s in it!” Joe laughed.
“Is there anyone else living in Thief River Falls?” Joshua politely inquired.
“Nope,” Joe responded. “Just us. And we don’t actually live here. We’re just staying here for a spell, sort of watching over things.”
“You wouldn’t know anyone who rides a motorcycle?” Joshua asked casually.
Joe attempted to disguise his reaction, but Blade noticed his features cloud for an instant.
“What’s a motorcycle?” Joe innocently asked.
“A means of transport,” Joshua answered.
“Like that thing you have outside?”
“The SEAL? It’s quite different from a motorcycle.”
“Never quite seen anything just like it,” Joe said. He was inching his right hand under the table.
Blade noted the other man at the table already had both of his arms out of sight.
“Have you ever been to Minneapolis?” Joshua asked Joe.
Joe hesitated. “Once or twice,” he finally replied. “Why?”
“That is our destination,” Joshua said, displaying his inherent honesty.
“You don’t want to go there.”
“Why not?”
Joe shook his head. “Bad place. Bad. Violent types live there. Not friendly, like us.”
“Violent?” Joshua asked, alarmed. “How do you mean?”
Joe leaned toward Joshua. “Sonny, they’ll kill you quick as they see you.
Believe me, you’re safer staying away from Minneapolis. Say,” he said, changing the subject, “are you hungry?”
“We could use some food,” Joshua admitted.
Blade saw his chance. “We have provisions in our transport. Joshua, why don’t you go get some for us?”
“No need for that.” Joe’s right hand paused at the table’s edge.
“We have plenty,” Blade mentioned.
“So do we,” Joe protested. “Why don’t you have some of ours?”
Blade smiled, his finger curling around the Commando trigger.
“Wouldn’t hear of it. You’ve been kind enough to us, so allow us to return the favor. Joshua, go get some food for us.”
“But if they have some they’re willing to share…” Joshua began.
“Do as I told you,” Blade curtly ordered.
Joshua smiled at the other men, rose, and departed.
“He’s a nice boy,” Joe commented.
“None nicer,” Blade admitted.
“I like ’em lean,” Joe continued. “Great body.” His right hand had disappeared under the table.
“I don’t suppose you would be willing to raise your hands over your heads while we disarm you?” Blade tensed, ready.
Joe laughed. “You got a great sense of humor, sonny. You know better.”
“And if I said we’d leave now, without any fuss?” Blade offered them one last chance.
“Sorry.” Joe shrugged his shoulders. “We have our orders.”
“The one you called Sammy?”
“The same.”
“What’s he have against us? We don’t even know him?”
“Sammy always has good reasons,” Joe stated. “Don’t know why, but Sammy says you guys must buy the farm. Nothing personal, you understand?”
“I understand.”
“And don’t you worry none,” Joe said, grinning maliciously. “We won’t harm that Joshua. I intend to take real good care of him. Real good care,” he emphasized, licking his thick lips.
“Say, Joe?” Hickok interjected.
“Yeah?” Joe kept his eyes on Blade.
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re one miserable son of a bitch?”
The room exploded with deadly action.
Hickok’s guns were up and he was turning, even as Bert managed to clear leather. The Pythons cracked and Bert slammed into the wall and crumpled to the floor.