David Robbins - Thief River Falls Run

“The reinforcements aren’t due until this evening,” Hickok said.

“Maybe I could learn by then.”

“And what if they arrive sooner than expected?” Blade retorted. “What if they send an advance patrol? We’re hardly in condition for another fight.”

“Okay. So it’s not such a hot idea,” Hickok conceded. “No need to get all testy about it.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Blade corrected him. “I think it’s a great idea, and if we had the time, and if we weren’t in such lousy shape, I’d go for it.

But…” He left the thought dangling.

“So what do we do?” Geronimo asked.

“We stick with the original plan,” Blade answered. “We load up the generator and the supplies we confiscated, and whatever we can cram in from the truck, and take off for the Home.”

“Don’t forget the radio,” Hickok added.

“That too. Anything I’ve forgotten?” Blade looked at each of them.

“There is one small thing…” Joshua said quietly.

“What is it?” Blade asked him.

“It’s about the dead Watchers…”

“Oh no,” Hickok groaned. “Here we go again.”

“I don’t suppose we could provide them with a proper burial?” Joshua inquired.

Blade shook his head. “I’m sorry, Joshua. We haven’t got the time to spare.”

“Just thought I’d ask,” Joshua stated.

“Let’s get cracking,” Blade announced.

While Hickok and Geronimo retrieved the provisions hidden before the convoy arrived, Blade, with the assistance of Joshua and Bertha, dismantled the generator and the stereo. By three in the afternoon they had the supplies, the generator, various miscellaneous items, and a stack of M-16’s piled into the transport, utilizing all the space available until there was scarcely room for them .

“I reckon it’s about time, pard,” Hickok said to Blade as they stood on the steps.

Blade nodded, his hands on his Bowies. He’d found his weapons stashed in the rear of the truck, and he had thanked the Spirit for the return of the long knives when he’d strapped them to his waist.

“The Family will be plumb tickled,” Hickok commented.

“I’d like to know somethin’,” Bertha said, coming through the door.

“What’s that, Black Beauty?” Hickok asked her.

“How come you talk so funny sometimes?” Bertha inquired.

“Talk funny?” Hickok repeated.

Geronimo came through the door, laughing. “He does that because he’s a fanatic about the Old West, as it was called in the books in our library,” he explained. “Hickok likes to talk like he thinks they did way back then.

You know, and I know, he sounds like a congenital idiot, but it’s impossible to argue with a man who has rocks for brains.”

“You’re weird, White Meat.” Bertha shook her head. “You’re really weird.”

“If you think he’s weird now,” Geronimo said, “then wait until you really get to know him.”

“I don’t understand why they always pick on me,” Hickok said, lamenting his misfortune.

“Let’s get out of here,” Blade stated, smiling. He watched as they climbed into the SEAL, his eyes drifting over the park and the sky and the sun. The sun. He’d never be able to view the fiery orb in the same light again, not after what had happened. Each dawn, every new day, was so incredibly precious, so…

“Hey, pard, you coming?” Hickok called.

Blade walked to the transport and sat in the driver’s seat.

“I can drive,” Hickok offered, “if you don’t feel up to it.”

“I feel up to it,” Blade assured him.

“Thank the Spirit!” Geronimo remarked. He was sitting in the front, cradling the Browning in his arms.

“I can’t believe I’m really going to your Home,” Bertha said longingly.

“It’s like a dream come true.”

“You’ll love it,” Hickok verified. “I know.”

“And you can bet I’ll never leave it,” Bertha announced for Blade’s benefit. “Not ever!”

Blade started the motor and pulled out, glad he’d remembered to throw the red lever earlier. He wondered if Bertha had the right idea. The Home.

Jenny. His Family. He’d been away from them twice, and each time he nearly lost his life. Only a fool would tempt fate three times running.

“It is a beautiful day,” Joshua said softly.

“That it is,” Blade heartily agreed, grinning happily. “Next stop, Home Sweet Home!”

A LEISURE BOOK®

June 1992

Published by Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

276 Fifth Avenue

New York, NY

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

Copyright ©MCMLXXXVI by David Robbins

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

The name “Leisure Books” and the stylized “L” with design are trademarks of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

Printed in the United States of America.