David Robbins - Denver Run

Boone broke the ice. He smiled wanly and gave a little wave. “Howdy, Hickok.”

It was all the opening Hickok needed.

The gunman advanced on Boone, furious, gesticulating with his revolvers. “You dang-blasted, dimwitted cow chip! Didn’t you know it was me?”

“How were we supposed to know?” Boone replied. “It was too dark.”

“I could of suffocated in that smelly hide!” Hickok bellowed. “And do you realize what all that bouncing around did to my kidneys?”

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Hickok,” said the Cavalry rider responsible for dropping the hide on the gunman.

Hickok faced the rider. “You did this to me?” he growled.

The hapless rider blanched and gulped. He simply nodded.

Hickok twirled the Colt Pythons into their respective holsters.

“I want all of you to listen up!” he shouted, his hands hovering near his revolvers.

Spartacus suppressed an impulse to laugh. The Cavalry riders appeared to be in a state of shock. Hickok’s formidable reputation had that effect on people.

“I know you hombres were just doin’ your job,” Hickok declared, “which is the only reason I don’t blow you away here and now! But if one word of this gets out, just one word, I’ll be lookin’ you up to talk this over real personal like. Do you get the drift?”

Everyone nodded or otherwise acknowledged they understood.

Boone was grinning.

“What are you doing here?” Spartacus inquired. “Why aren’t you with Blade and the others.”

The mention of Blade immediately sobered the gunman and soothed his intense embarrassment. “I plumb forgot,” he mumbled.

“What happened?” Spartacus asked.

“Blade sent Geronimo and me back in a truck,” Hickok explained. “We were bringin’ Bertha and Josh back to the Home so the Healers could tend to ’em.”

“Bertha and Josh? Are they hurt?” Spartacus questioned him.

Hickok nodded. “Bertha is hurt bad. She might not make it. Josh is hangin’ in there, though.”

“What about Blade?” Spartacus probed. “Are Samuel and the Doktor still alive?”

“We won’t have to worry none about the Doktor,” Hickok revealed.

“Last I knew, Blade was makin’ for Denver. Geronimo must still be back on Highway 59. We were spying on the Army camp when these nincompoops jumped me.”

“We can’t leave Geronimo out there alone,” Spartacus stated.

“He’s got a Cavalry guy named Morton with him,” Hickok disclosed.

“But you’re right.” He stared at Boone.

“Do you want us to go after him?” Boone inquired.

“Yep,” Hickok responded. “You’ll have to stay with him, because Bertha and Josh are in no shape to be ridin’ a horse. And there’s no way you’re gonna get that troop transport past the Army convoy.”

“I’ll leave half of my men here,” Boone offered.

“Thanks,” Spartacus interjected. “We can use them.” He looked at Hickok. By rights, and according to the established chain of command, the gunman was now in charge of the defense of the Home. Spartacus felt mixed emotions: on the one hand, he was relieved the burden had been lifted from his shoulders, but on the other, he experienced a faint resentment Hickok was taking over.

Boone walked to his horse and swung up. “We won’t let anything happen to Bertha and Joshua. Just make sure nothing happens to you.”

He paused. “Do you want me to send a messenger to Blade for help?”

Hickok shook his head. “The convoy will be here tomorrow. A rider could never reach Blade in time.”

Boone nodded his understanding. A man on horseback would take weeks to reach Colorado. “Take care,” he said. He quickly selected half of his men, choosing the ones to go by pointing at them.

Spartacus watched as Boone and ten of his men vanished into the night.

Hickok strode up to Spartacus. “Give me the low-down.”

“I think we’re all set,” Spartacus detailed. “All our arms have been distributed. I placed our youngsters and elderly in the cabins. Everyone from the Clan who can fight has been housed in F Block and D Block—”

“The Clan is here then?” Hickok interrupted.

“Yes,” Spartacus confirmed. “We have two hundred and sixty-five fighters, not counting the ten Cavalry men. I’ve divided them up and assigned them to a wall.”

“What about the Warriors?”

“Seiko and Shane will hold the north wall,” Spartacus divulged. “Carter, Ares, and Gideon have the south wall. I gave the east wall to Crockett, Samson and… Sherry.”

“You were plannin’ to take care of the west wall all by your lonesome?”

“I didn’t see where I had a choice,” Spartacus said.

“Sounds like you did a right proper job,” Hickok complimented his fellow Warrior.

“You’re welcome to change whatever you don’t like,” Spartacus commented.

“There is one thing that needs changin’,” Hickok commented.

“What?”

“You won’t be alone on the west wall,” Hickok informed him. “I’ll be joinin’ you.”

“What about Sherry?” Spartacus asked.

“What about her?” Hickok responded defensively.

“Do you want her moved to the west wall with us?”

Hickok studied Spartacus for a moment. “Thanks, but no. You assigned her to the east wall and that’s where she’ll stay.”

“But you’re in charge now,” Spartacus stated. “You can do whatever you want.”

“I’ve gotta do what’s best for the Family,” Hickok said. “Having at least three Warriors on the east wall makes sense.”

“You could transfer me to the east wall and have Sherry by your side,” Spartacus suggested.

“Nope.” The gunman sighed. “I can’t be showin’ any favoritism. You’ve already committed her to the east wall. If I change her post, the other Warriors are gonna get hot under the collar. We’ll leave things just the way you have them.”

“As you wish,” Spartacus said.

“And as far as me being in charge goes,” Hickok went on, “I ain’t lettin’ you off the hook that easy.”

“But according to the chain of command—” Spartacus began.

“Hang the chain of command,” Hickok declared. “This is all-out war. I’ll make the decisions, but I want your input on everything. And I mean everything. We can’t afford to make any mistakes.”

“Don’t I know it,” Spartacus agreed.

Hickok glanced at the ten Cavalry riders. “Get some shut-eye. Be up at sunrise. I want you ready to ride if I give the word.”

“Where do you want us?” one of the riders asked.

Hickok pointed at the nearest Block, C Block. “Wait on the far side of the infirmary.”

“We’ll be ready,” the bearded rider promised. The ten Cavalrymen rode off to get some sleep.

Hickok looked at the three Family men manning the drawbridge mechanism. He gestured upward with his right hand. They proceeded to elevate the wooden bridge, the massive chain rattling and clanking as it moved the gears.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Spartacus commented.

“I wish Blade and the rest of the Freedom Federation Army was with me,” Hickok commented.

“Do you have any idea how many we’re up against?” Spartacus inquired.

“Two thousand,” Hickok answered.

“Two thousand,” Spartacus repeated. “Our estimate was right.”

“That ain’t the worst of it, pard,” Hickok declared.

“What could be worse?”

“They’ve got a tank,” Hickok told him.

“A tank!” Spartacus couldn’t keep his shock from showing.

“Things are gonna get hot around here,” Hickok predicted.

“What are we going to do to stop their tank?” Spartacus asked.

“Beats me,” Hickok replied. “The Founder didn’t leave us any antitank guns or heavy explosives.”