David Robbins - Dakota Run

“Any time,” Hickok quipped. “Say, did anyone ever tell you you’re a mess first thing in the morning?”

If eyes could freeze objects at a glance, Hickok would have been frozen solid. “You can deposit whatever you’re carrying on that cot,” Nightingale said icily, pointing at the specified cot.

“Touchy, touchy, touchy!” Hickok playfully commented as he deposited the furball on the designated cot.

“Where is Blade?” Plato asked Nightingale.

She indicated the rear door to the Block. “He wasn’t badly hurt. Jenny dragged him outside. Said she had to talk to him.”

“Where’s Sherry?” Hickok inquired.

“She sustained a bruised temple, was all,” Nightingale replied. “She took off out of here on the run. Something about getting back to her man. Didn’t you see her on the way here?”

“Nope.” Hickok shook his head.

“She may have passed us in the trees,” Plato reasoned. “I’m sure she’ll be here shortly.”

Nightingale was carefully probing Gremlin’s legs.

“How extensive are his injuries?” Plato queried her.

“He’s taken quite a beating,” she answered, “but nothing serious except for his legs.”

“His legs?”

“I think the right leg is broken,” Nightingale said. “I’m still not sure about the left.”

“Continue your examination,” Plato directed. “I’ll be outside. Inform me when your prognosis is complete.” He departed.

“Did you say Blade was out back?” Hickok absently asked.

“Last I knew,” Nightingale confirmed, then devoted her full attention to her ministrations.

Hickok ambled toward the rear door.

“What was that thing you just brought in?”

Spartacus wanted to know as the gunman passed them.

“The tooth fairy,” Hickok cracked. “Keep your eyes on it in case it comes around. It’s one of the Doktor’s G.R.D.’s. If it gives you any grief, pard, blow it in two.”

Spartacus drew his broadsword, grinning. “Is it okay if I slice it in half instead?”

“Just make sure it doesn’t escape or harm the Healers,” Hickok ordered.

“If it gives us any trouble,” Spartacus promised, “I’ll carve it into a nice pair of fur slippers for my girlfriend.”

The two soldiers glared at the gunfighter as he strode by.

Hickok ignored them and exited the Block, looking for Blade. He heard voices coming from his right, from behind a large tree. He was about to interrupt, to call Blade’s name, when the words being spoken sunk in.

“…won’t put it off any longer!” Jenny was saying. “You gave me your word and I intend to hold you to it!”

“But now’s not the right time to get married,” Blade protested.

“What are you waiting for?” Jenny bitterly rejoined. “Peace on earth and good will among men? Be realistic! You gave me your word we would marry after you returned from the Twin Cities. Then the run to Kalispell came up. Odds are Plato will be sending you somewhere else before too long. I’m tired of waiting, honey!”

“Wouldn’t it be best to wait until we could settle down without…” Blade began.

“And when will that be?” Jenny demanded, cutting him off. “We both know Plato will be sending Alpha Triad on more trips.” She paused, and Hickok heard her sigh. “Even if you did settle down, there’s no guarantee we’d be left alone to enjoy ourselves in peace and quiet. Look at how many times the Home has been attacked in the past several months! We’re not even safe here!”

Jenny’s voice broke, and she began crying.

Hickok started to back away, unwilling to intrude on their private discussion. He was almost to the door when her next sentence stopped him in his tracks.

“Didn’t you learn anything from Joan’s death?” Jenny inquired, sniffling. “Can’t you appreciate how important every moment we spend together is? We must love and share while the Spirit provides the opportunity. Who knows when it will come to an end? Look at this morning! You could have been killed! And what about poor Nathan?”

“What about him?” Blade asked, his surging emotion making his tone husky, as if his throat was constricted.

“Joan and Nathan went together for a long time before she was killed,” Jenny said. “Don’t you think Nathan wonders how much more they could have shared if only they’d married? Don’t you think he kicks himself for being so aloof at times, for not taking advantage of her affection while she was still alive and with us? Do you want that to happen to me? To you? To us?”

It seemed like Blade took forever to answer. “No, I don’t want that to happen to us. You’ve made your point.” He hesitated. “Will you bind with me in, say, four days? That would give us enough time for the preparations. I want to do this right.”

Jenny’s shriek of delight was probably heard for miles.

Hickok backed through the doorway, his thoughts troubled.

One of the Watchers, the youngest, the one Yama had smashed on the head with his Wilkinson, saw the gunman enter and snickered, taunting this Warrior as he had the others. Ridiculing his captors was his favorite diversion.

“Hey! What’s the matter with you?” the Watcher baited the blond gunfighter. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost! Can’t you…”

The soldier’s statement abruptly terminated, his mouth gaping open and his eyes wide in fright, as the barrel of a Colt Python flashed to within an inch of his nose.

The other Watcher, Lieutenant Putnam, his nose heavily bandaged, recoiled, terrified, trying to sink into the cot he was lying on. He knew the identity of this buckskin-clad Warrior with the pearl-handled Colts, and he’d heard stories of how very deadly the gunfighter could be.

Hickok slowly cocked the hammer on his Colt.

Spartacus and Seiko, both surprised by Hickok’s reaction, glanced at one another. They were startled by the livid expression on Hickok’s face.

“I… I… I… didn’t mean anything…” the young Watcher managed to babble.

“Hickok!” Spartacus spoke up. “What’s the matter? He isn’t worth it.

Besides, Plato wants them alive for interrogation.”

“You’re absolutely right, pard,” Hickok said softly. “This vulture isn’t worth it, isn’t worth the grass she walked on. But she’s gone, isn’t she?

Why? Because mangy vermin like this won’t leave us alone to live in peace.” He paused, his blue eyes dancing with rage. “If Plato needs this one, I reckon I’ll let him live, for now.”

The gunman holstered the Python and stormed from C Block.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the young Watcher looked at Putnam. “Did you see that? What was eating him? These so-called Warriors sure can’t…”

His sentence was suddenly cut short, again, by the point of a broadsword appearing where the Python barrel had been just moments before.

Spartacus leaned over and glared at the soldier. “You know, friend, you have a big mouth. Around here we don’t like big mouths. In fact, if someone’s mouth is too big, if they don’t know when to keep it shut, we solve the problem by nipping it in the bud, so to speak. We slice their tongue off. Keeping that in mind, is there anything else you’d like to say today?”

The Watcher vigorously shook his head.

“Didn’t think so,” Spartacus said, replacing his broadsword. He glanced at Seiko. “What did get into him?” he asked.

Seiko, his Oriental features furrowed in contemplation, shrugged.

“Now don’t you get inscrutable on me,” Spartacus stated. “You were closer to the doorway. Did you hear anything? What got him so upset?”

Seiko stared at the front door, the corners of his mouth turning downward. “Joan,” he answered simply.