David Robbins - Denver Run

The head of the Warriors mentally tallied the total: 834. A considerable quantity, to be sure, but the army of the Civilized Zone had to be much larger. Even allowing for massive casualties after Cheyenne had been nuked, the Civilized Zone’s military force still had to outnumber the Freedom Federation’s fighters by at least three to one.

So where were they?

Why hadn’t Samuel II’s army appeared?

Blade gazed at his companions, all Warriors like himself, the only representatives of the Family. Originally, 6 Warriors had departed the Home as the Family’s contribution to the Federation’s fighters, but he had been compelled to send Hickok and Geronimo back to the Home. So he was left with 4 Warriors, counting himself. Compared to the Cavalry’s contribution, 4 seemed like such a paltry number. But since the Family only had 15 Warriors to start with, 4 was more than a fair share.

A tall horsemen in buckskins, the typical attire of the postwar frontiersman, broke away from the Cavalry ranks below and rode his magnificent palomino up the hill. He reined in and swept the four Warriors with a questioning glance. His hair was a light brown tinged with gray streaks along the temples. Clear blue eyes, deep-set in his rugged features, settled on Blade.

“Is something wrong? What’s the holdup?” inquired the rider in a husky voice.

“What is this?” Blade snapped. “The question of the day? I don’t see why everyone thinks there’s something the matter!”

The rider shot a quizzical gaze at Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, who simply shrugged and shook his head.

Blade was glaring in the general direction of Fort Collins. “Since everyone is so all fired up to get going,” he stated, “get the column moving!”

“As you wish,” the rider said stiffly. He wheeled his mount and galloped down the hill.

Yama and Rikki exchanged knowing looks. Yama nudged Teucer’s left elbow, and the two of them turned and headed for the convoy.

Rikki waited until Yama and Teucer were out of earshot. He walked up to Blade and touched his right arm to get his attention.

“What is it?” Blade asked him absently.

“That was no way to address Kilrane,” Rikki mentioned.

“He should have waited below like I told him to do,” Blade declared.

“Kilrane is the leader of the Cavalry,” Rikki noted. “He has a legitimate right to express his concerns.”

Blade sighed and ran his right hand through his tousled hair. “I know,” he said wearily. “I’ll apologize to him the first chance I get.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Rikki prompted his friend.

“It’s the same old story,” Blade commented.

“Enlighten me,” Rikki goaded him.

Blade frowned and squatted on his haunches. He idly poked his right index finger into a small hole in the road.

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi waited patiently, wishing Hickok and Geronimo were still with the column. They were closer to Blade than anyone else, with the possible exception of his wife, Jenny. Geronimo in particular was adept at cracking Blade’s laconic shell when the hulking Warrior was in one of his infrequent moody spells.

“You know,” Blade said slowly, “that Plato wants me to become Leader of the Family after he passes on to the higher mansions.”

“Of course,” Rikki confirmed. Plato’s selection of Blade as his intended successor was common knowledge in the Family.

“And you’ve probably heard I don’t want the job,” Blade remarked.

“There is speculation to that effect,” Rikki admitted.

“Have you ever wondered why I don’t want to become the Leader of the Family?” Blade asked.

“I assume you have a good reason,” Rikki responded diplomatically.

“As you well know,” Blade said in a reserved tone, “my father was the Family’s Leader before Plato.”

“Yes,” Rikki affirmed.

“And I saw what it did to him,” Blade continued. “I saw how much strain he was under. Having the responsibility of safeguarding the welfare of so many people is an awesome burden.”

“But don’t you already have such responsibility?” Rikki interjected. “As the leader of the Warriors?”

Blade shook his head. “Being leader of the Warriors and the Leader of the Family are two entirely different posts. As the top Warrior, I’m responsible for protecting the Family and preserving our Home. My duties are strictly military in nature. But once I agree to become Family Leader, providing the Family goes along with Plato’s recommendation and elects me to the position, the scope of my duties would expand.”

“Ultimately, every aspect of our life would depend on me. How much food should we grow to see us through each year? How large a stockpile should we keep on hand to see us through the rough times? What if our supplies run low? How do we go about replenishing them if we can’t manufacture what we need? If the children didn’t have enough to eat, it would be my fault. If the climate should take a drastic turn for the worse, as it’s been known to do from time to time, I would be accountable for insuring we have enough food and clothing. The fate of the Family would rest in my hands.” Blade stopped and looked up at Rikki. “It scares me,” he revealed.

“I’ve never known you to be scared of anything,” Rikki noted.

“Oh, sure,” Blade went on. “I can face any opponent in combat. But that type of courage is different from the kind a person must have if they’re going to shoulder the responsibility for over eighty people.”

“You think you lack such courage?” Rikki asked thoughtfully.

“I don’t know,” Blade honestly confessed.

“Then why dwell on it?” Rikki asked.

“Because of what happened in Catlow.”

“Catlow?” Rikki didn’t understand. The battle with the Doktor had been a resounding victory for the Federation.

“I made too many mistakes,” Blade stated.

“What mistakes?”

“I should have taken more fighters into Catlow,” Blade reprimanded himself. “I should have deployed our forces differently.”

“But the losses we sustained were minimal,” Rikki pointed out.

“The loss of even one life is one too many,” Blade philosophized.

Rikki pondered Blade’s words. Something didn’t quite fit. Suffering casualties in a war was inevitable. Blade knew that. And the strategy they had employed in Catlow had worked remarkably well. Blade knew that too.

So what was really troubling him?

The head of the Warriors stood. “Let’s go,” he said. “We’d better join the column.”

“Wait a minute,” Rikki advised.

Blade stared at the Family’s supreme martial artist. “What is it?”

“I’ve been listening to your words,” Rikki stated slowly, “and they don’t ring true. They don’t jibe with the Blade I know.”

“We can finish this discussion later,” Blade suggested, starting to walk off.

“Let’s finish it now,” Rikki recommended. “We should clear the air before you inadvertently insult one of our friends again.”

“I’ve said all I’m going to say,” Blade stated impatiently, obviously reluctant to continue their conversation.

“Then allow me to have my say,” Rikki countered, hoping his insight was correct.

Blade folded his muscular arms across his expansive chest. “Go ahead. Speak your piece.”

“I may not know you as well as Hickok or Geronimo,” Rikki began, “but I’ve known you since our childhood. I think I can accurately gauge your motives in this instance.”

“You think so, huh?” Blade interjected skeptically.

“Hear me out,” Rikki urged. “I don’t think you’re afraid of the responsibility a Family Leader must shoulder. After all, you’ve been the top Warrior for, what, four years? If you couldn’t handle responsibility, you would have resigned your post a long time ago. Next to being the actual Leader of our Family, the position of chief Warrior entails the most responsibility of any other vocation. No,” Rikki concluded, “it’s not the responsibility.”