David Robbins - Yellowstone Run

I can read.”

“He can’t?” Blade queried.

Priscilla shook her head. “He’s as illiterate as a rock.”

“What a marvelous sense of humor,” Achilles said, smiling broadly.

“Kiss her feet, why don’t you?” Hickok muttered.

“The altitude must have gotten to him,” Geronimo speculated.

“Perhaps, after this affair has been concluded, you would permit us to escort you to Utah,” Achilles said. “Or you can accompany us to the Home.”

“Where’s the Home?”

“Achilles,” Blade stated sternly.

Startled, the aspiring Warrior looked at the giant. “What did I do?”

“Whether we escort her to Utah will be my decision,” Blade declared.

“And information concerning the Home is privileged.”

“It is?” Achilles responded in surprise.

“That’s okay,” Priscilla said. “I understand. Blade doesn’t trust me yet.”

“I don’t know you,” Blade said. “Until I do, the exact location of the Home must be our secret.”

“Surely you don’t believe she’d betray us,” Achilles said.

“When you’ve been a Warrior as long as I have, you learn not to trust anyone until they’ve proven themselves to your satisfaction,” Blade observed. “I know her story sounds very convincing, but there’s a remote possibility that she’s a plant, that Harmon sent her up here to learn what she could about us.”

“I believe her,” Achilles declared firmly.

“And I’d like to believe her,” Blade replied.

Eagle Feather abruptly coughed loudly. “There’s one way you can determine if she’s telling the truth,” he said.

Blade glanced at the Flathead. “How’s that?”

Eagle Feather nodded to the southeast. “Ask Harmon. Here he comes.”

Pivoting, Blade spied a group of riders racing toward the Lamar River.

“Everyone check your weapons,” he ordered, and inspected the Commando, insuring the cocking handle was all the way back.

“Can we open up as soon as they’re in range?” Hickok asked hopefully.

“No. We’ll hear what he has to say first.”

The gunman shook his head and smacked his lips a few times. “You’re gettin’ soft in your old age, pard.”

“We’re the same age.”

“Don’t remind me. I’m liable to start sproutin’ gray hairs any day now.”

Achilles came forward and stood between the giant and the Flathead.

He gazed at the head Warrior. “I apologize if I overstepped my bounds.”

“You’re forgiven. Officially you’re not a Warrior yet, so I can’t expect you to know all the rules of conduct.”

“I have so much to learn.”

“Comes with the territory,” Blade said. “A Warrior’s outlook on life must be different from the attitude most of the Family possesses. We can’t afford to be as trusting, as spiritually loving. It’s all well and good to believe in the Golden Rule, to try and be kind to everyone as the Elders teach us to do. But out here most people are looking out for number one, and if you’re not careful, someone you take into your confidence could stab you in the back. Always be on your guard, both physically and psychologically.”

“I’ll try my best.”

Blade saw the riders splash across the river and head toward the hill.

He knew the trio returning with Earring’s corpse had not had the time to reach the plain where the buffalo were being butchered, and he surmised that Harmon probably had become impatient and met them en route. He held the Commando loosely at his side and waited for the scavengers to arrive.

This time things would be different.

This time Harmon wouldn’t leave alive.

The 13 riders, with Harmon in the lead, slowed to a walk at the base of the hill, then came on slowly. Twelve, counting the big man, were men.

The sole woman, a brunette in a seedy green blouse and beige slacks, hung back, glancing nervously at the summit.

Blade wanted all of them within a guaranteed kill radius. He let them ride to within 15 yards of the crest, then held his left hand aloft. “Stop right there!” he barked.

The scavengers reined up.

“What do you want?” Blade asked with feigned innocence.

“You know damn well what we want!” Harmon snapped. “Turn over my woman!”

“She’s not your woman. Never has been.”

Incipient rage contorted the scavenger’s cruel visage. “Priscilla! Get your ass down here now!”

“Get stuffed!” she replied arrogantly.

Harmon leaned forward and glanced at the giant. “Do you think I’m playing a game? If you don’t turn her over, there will be hell to pay.”

“You’re right about payment being due,” Blade said.

“What?”

“Earlier, when I accused you of being a scavenger, you wanted to know where my proof was. Remember?”

Harmon straightened and placed his right hand on the Martin resting on his thighs. “Yeah, I remember. So what?”

Grinning triumphantly. Blade pointed at Priscilla Wendling. “There’s all the proof I need.”

The scavenger snorted. “Big frigging deal. What are you going to do about it?”

“By the authority vested in me by the Freedom Federation, I could take all of you into custody.”

Harmon smirked. “You could try.”

“We’re not going to bother,” Blade informed him.

“You’re not?” Harmon stated sarcastically. “Why? Afraid of the odds?”

“No,” Blade said slowly, giving the scavenger ample opportunity to comprehend his meaning before he even uttered the words, his level gaze boring into the man’s eyes, a smirk curling his mouth. “We’re going to kill you.”

For a moment no one moved. The scavengers all tensed, waiting for their leader to react, and react he did.

“You bastard!” Harmon roared, and tried to bring his rifle into play.

Blade was ready. He simply elevated the Commando barrel and squeezed the trigger, feeling a supreme degree of grim satisfaction as the heavy slugs ripped into Harmon’s torso, stitching the big man from the navel to the neck. The impact catapulted Harmon from his saddle and he crashed onto the ground.

Hickok, Geronimo, Achilles, and Eagle Feather cut loose as the rest of the scavengers snapped off shots.

A few of the horses whinnied as they were accidentally hit. Other mounts were bucking or trying to flee, terrified by the gunfire, making it impossible for their riders to get a bead on the men on the rim.

Blade dove, firing as he did, and saw another scavenger tumble to the turf. He rolled to the right, striving to present as difficult a target as he could, and glimpsed Geronimo likewise hitting the dirt. Bullets smacked into the earth within inches of his head. He halted on his stomach and aimed at a thin man on a roan, who looked in his direction just as he sent a half-dozen rounds into the scavenger’s chest.

Five of the band suddenly took the offensive. They goaded their animals upward, shooting as they charged, several of them uttering frenzied whoops and inarticulate yells.

Blade sighted on the scavenger in the lead and felt the Commando’s recoil when the machine gun blasted.

Screeching, the rider fell to the slope and was kicked in the head by one of the other horses.

The brunette had wheeled her mount and fled toward the river.

Blade saw one of the scavengers coming toward him from the left, and he twisted to shoot before the rider did. He heard the booming of Achilles’ Bullpup, and the scavenger’s face erupted in a gory spray of flesh and blood.

The man toppled from his mount.

Human bodies and three dead or dying horses now littered the slope.

Only four of the band were still alive, and two of them were endeavoring to turn their panicked animals and escape.