The Kalispell Run

by David Robbins

  “We spread out some,” Rainbow replied. Many moved north and east and settled around Flathead Lake.”

  “You said before,” Blade pointed out, “that Kalispell has been deserted all these years. Why didn’t your people just move into Kalispell or one of the other towns?”

  “Because they belonged to the white man,” Rainbow said distastefully, “and we want nothing to do with anything belonging to our former masters.”

  “You sound bitter,” Blade observed.

  “Can you blame me? I know our history. The whites lied to us, murdered us, stole our land, and then forced us to live on a small parcel they so graciously offered. My people were little more than slaves! What hypocrites the whites were! They proudly claimed they released the black man from bondage, while at the same time they kept the red man confined to the reservations. No, my people want nothing to do with the white man or anything belonging to the white man! Be thankful we’re the way we are. It’s the only reason the hospital in Kalispell went untouched all these years.”

  “What about this Cheyenne Citadel?” Blade questioned her. “Are all the people living there white? Do you have any idea who these people are, and why they’ve sent an army to attack you?”

  Rainbow glanced down at her daughter. Star was asleep again, curled up on the seat, her head resting on Rainbow’s lap. “We know very little.

  The Cheyenne Citadel is a fortress. We believe the people living in the Citadel, and those south of it, in what was once called Colorado, are the descendants of the ones the Government evacuated at the outset of World War Three. Once, years ago, before I was born, one of these people, a fugitive, came to live with my tribe. He told us about his life…”

  “Your tribe didn’t kill him?” Blade interjected.

  “No. Why should we?” Rainbow responded, puzzled.

  “He was white, wasn’t he?”

  “You’ve misunderstood,” Rainbow stated. “We don’t hate individual whites. I don’t hate you. We can’t blame you for what happened centuries ago. It’s the bastards who were running your Government—the crooked politicians, as they were called—and the bigots and the greedy fleecers. It’s their memory we despise. So long as one Flathead remains to tell the story to our children, my people will remember. And, remembering, we will never become slaves again!”

  “What did this man tell your people?” Blade wanted to know. He looked at Geronimo, wondering why his friend wasn’t contributing to their conversation.

  Geronimo was gazing out the windshield, apparently uninterested.

  “He said the city of Denver, Colorado, is now the capital of the United States Government. He told my parents the Government was oppressive, and he left because he couldn’t tolerate being completely controlled and told what to do and when to do it. About a month after this man came to live with my tribe, he was found dead one morning, still in his sleeping blankets.”

  “What did he die from?”

  “No one knew. They couldn’t find a mark on him. Anyway, we haven’t had anything to do with the Citadel or the people living there. We kept to ourselves. They kept to themselves. At least, that’s the way it was until several years ago. Then they began sending patrols into our country, and these patrols fired at us whenever they saw us. Our warriors usually chased them off. Nothing else happened until this army marched from the Citadel and attacked us, forcing us into Kalispell and surrounding us. We know they intend to wipe us out, but we have no idea why. They’re better armed than we are, and it’s only a matter of time before my people run out of food in Kalispell.”

  “So why are you going back?” Blade asked.

  “I must,” Rainbow said. “We should never have left.”

  “So why did you?”

  Rainbow stretched and yawned. “I’m getting tired. Do you mind if I take a nap? We can talk some more later.”

  “Fine by me,” Blade said, watching her close her eyes and lean her head on the seat. Why was she avoiding his question? Did she know more than she was telling? Who was she, really? After all, three soldiers had followed Star and her over a thousand miles, intent on killing them. Why?

  The terrain was hilly and covered with brush, the highway winding across the landscape like a giant black snake.

  Blade glanced at Geronimo.

  “You okay?”

  “Sure. Why?”

  “You’re not saying much.”

  Geronimo sighed and faced Blade. “I thought I was the last Indian.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s been quite a surprise to learn differently,” Geronimo stated.

  “I can imagine,” Blade commiserated with him.

  “Can you?” Geronimo asked doubtfully. “I’ve read every book in our library on Indians. I know our history as well as she does.” He pointed at Rainbow. “I’m proud to be an Indian. That’s one of the reasons I selected the name Geronimo at my own Naming. Geronimo inspired me in my youth. He refused to abandon the Indian ways, and fought against being dominated and domesticated. Geronimo is a symbol of me, a reminder I must never lose sight of my Indian heritage. Now, I learn an entire tribe feels the way I do. Now, I’m not so sure…”

  “About what?”

  “About where I belong.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Geronimo stared at Rainbow and Star. “I’m not so sure I should stay with the Family.”

  Blade struggled to prevent his shock from showing. “What?”

  “Maybe I should be living with the Flathead Indians,” Geronimo stated.

  “You can’t be serious!”

  “I am,” Geronimo declared. “I’ve never been more serious in my life.

  The Flatheads and I share a common heritage. I’ve always felt slightly different from the rest pf the Family…”

  “Because you’re the only Indian in the Family?” Blade asked.

  “That’s part of it,” Geronimo admitted. “I’ve talked with Rainbow about it, and she says her people would welcome me into their tribe. She wants me to come live with them.”

  “She does, does she?” Blade remarked, his tone tinged with anger.

  “Yes.” Geronimo turned and watched a hawk high overhead. “In fact, she was the one who first suggested the idea.”

  “Really.” Out of the corner of his eyes, reflected in the rear-view mirror, Blade caught sight of Rainbow’s face.

  She was still leaning her head on the seat, still lying with her eyes closed, still taking her nap.

  But she was grinning in smug satisfaction.

  Chapter Five

  Hickok’s reflexes were panther quick. The barrel of the Henry swept around and the long gun boomed, the slug catching his assailant in the chest and flipping him backward, arresting his momentum, causing him to fall to the ground at Hickok’s feet. Another figure sprang from the leafy tree, and Hickok smoothly danced to one side. The gunman rammed the barrel of the Henry into the stomach of his attacker while the man was still in midair.

  The second assailant grunted and tumbled to the grass at the side of the trail. He was armed with a knife, and he clutched it in his right fist as he went to rise and renew his assault.

  The barrel of the Henry was jammed into his left cheek. “Make one move, pard, and you’ll have a lot of trouble eating your food from now on. Drop that knife!”

  The man froze in a sitting up position. He dropped the knife.

  Hickok stepped in front of his prisoner. “Any more of you hereabouts?”

  The man vigorously shook his head.

  “I hope so, for your sake,” Hickok informed him. “If I hear so much as a twig snap, I’ll blow your brains out.”

  The man was gaping in horror at the barrel of the Henry, now positioned at the tip of his bulbous nose.

  Hickok studied the captive. He was in his thirties and had brown hair and brown eyes. His narrow face was clean shaven, but dirty. In fact, his entire body was covered with a fine layer of dust. He wore shabby clothes, crudely patched together at the seam
s, black pants, and a grimy gray shirt missing all the buttons.

  “This one is dead,” Sherry announced. She was kneeling next to the first attacker, holding his limp left wrist in her right hand. “I can’t find a pulse.”

  “You want to wind up like your friend here?” Hickok asked, tapping the Henry barrel against the man’s nose.

  The captive gulped. “Sure don’t, mister!”

  “Good. Roll over and lie on your stomach, your hands above your head, and cross your legs. Do it!”

  The prisoner immediately obeyed.

  “Good.” Hickok scanned the area, but the woods were quiet and peaceful. He relaxed slightly, knowing the man on the ground could not possibly reach him before receiving a bullet in the brain. “I’m going to ask you some questions,” he stated. “You will answer right away, without taking time to think. If you hesitate, I’ll shoot you in the head. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “If you move your arms or legs, I’ll shoot you in the head. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “If I get the impression you’re lying, guess what happens?”

  “You shoot me in the head!” the prisoner said in a high, squeaky voice.

  “Good. We have a mutual understanding. According to this wise man I know, name of Plato, that’s the best kind of relationship to have. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “You don’t have the slightest damn idea of what I’m talking about, do you?”

  “No, sir!”

  Hickok heard Sherry laugh.

  “What’s your name?” Hickok asked.

  “Silvester.”

  “Where you from, Silvester?”

  “I’m from the Mound, sir.”

  Hickok squatted on his haunches. “Look at me,” he ordered.

  Silvester complied, his eyes wide and fearful.

  “What’s the Mound?” Hickok inquired.

  “It’s where we live.”

  “We?”

  “My people. The others call us the Moles.”

  Hickok glanced at Sherry. She shrugged and shook her head, indicating she was also confused.

  “What were you doing here?” Hickok continued his interrogation.

  “Wolfe sent us to see where the Trolls came from,” Silvester answered.

  “The Trolls? You’re friends of the Trolls?”

  “Friends?” Despite his situation, Silvester chuckled. “No, not friends. We were sent to see if any were still alive.”

  Hickok tensed. “Explain. Tell me everything.”

  “We ambushed the Trolls and killed most of them,” Silvester went on, unaware of the impact his words were having on the gunman. “We took some prisoners. They told us about Fox, the town they came from. They said they were getting out of this area, trying to get away from some fierce people called the Family, I think. The Trolls were looking for a new home when our scouts found their camp. We snuck up on them during the night, because no one can see in the dark like us. They never knew what hit them!”

  “And you slaughtered most of them?” Hickok probed, uncertain whether he should feel relieved the Trolls were dead or mad because his revenge was being denied.

  “Most of them, yes,” Silvester acknowledged. “Like I said, we took some prisoners. About fifteen, I think. Eleven Trolls, three women, and the strange one.”

  “Strange one? Who’s the strange one?” Hickok questioned the Mole.

  “We don’t know,” Silvester responded. “He won’t tell us his name, no matter what we do to him. He was captured by the Trolls first. We found him when we sacked their camp. The Trolls told us he was one of the Family.”

  Hickok reacted as if jolted by an electric current. He grabbed Silvester and lifted his shoulders several inches off the ground. “Describe him to me,” he growled.

  Silvester cringed. “He’s not much more than a kid. Can’t even be twenty yet. Wears black clothes. I don’t know much else! Honest!” He detected a gleam in Hickok’s eyes and tried to pull away. “Honest! Wolfe is holding him in the cells. That’s all I know!”

  “Who is this Wolfe?” Hickok asked harshly.

  “Wolfe is our leader.”

  “Where is this Mound of yours?” Hickok demanded.

  “About fifty miles southeast of here,” Silvester replied. “Why?”

  Hickok slowly stood, his brow creased. Shane probably dogged the Trolls, trying to learn where they would settle next, and was captured.

  Then, when these Moles almost wiped out the Trolls, Shane fell into their hands. Terrific! He walked over to Sherry.

  “The one in black he talked about,” Sherry commented. “Isn’t he the one you’re looking for?”

  “Sure is.” Hickok nodded at Silvester. “I’m going to this Mound and free Shane.”

  “Just like that?” Sherry interrupted.

  “Just like that. There’s no need for you to go along, though. Could be dangerous. You’ve got the Glenfield. Think you could find your way to Sundown?”

  “I don’t know,” Sherry answered. “I might be able to do it.”

  “Well, you can either head for Sundown,” Hickok said, detailing her options, “or you can travel due west until you run into the Family. Tell them I sent you and they’ll make you welcome. Or, if you want, you can stay in Fox until I return. It’s up to you.”

  “You’ve overlooked one choice,” Sherry said.

  “What’s that?”

  “I can come with you.”

  “No way,” Hickok disagreed. “Sorry.”

  “Why not?”

  “I told you. It could be dangerous. I’ll be traveling hard and fast…”

  “I can keep up,” she promised.

  “…and I might not be able to protect you if we have a scrape or two.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Sherry stated. “And you’ll need someone to cover your back.”

  “I don’t need anyone to cover my back,” Hickok retorted.

  “Is that right?” she asked, grinning.

  “That’s right,” Hickok confirmed.

  “The male ego!” Sherry laughed. “Well, Mr. High and Mighty, if you don’t need anyone to cover your back, I guess you don’t need me to tell you your prisoner is getting away.”

  “What?” Hickok spun, bringing the Henry level. Sure enough. Silvester was ten yards away and crawling for all he was worth. “One more inch,” Hickok warned him, “and you’ll be growing roots in your chest!”

  Silvester stopped and glanced sheepishly over his right shoulder.

  “Back here, now!” Hickok barked.

  Silvester turned and crawled to his original position.

  Sherry was snickering. “Still think you don’t need me?”

  Hickok glared at the Mole. “Sneeze, and you’re dead!” He looked at Sherry. “You know, I asked you once before if you were eager to return to Sundown and you never answered me. Now you’ve got a rifle and ammunition, enough to see you safely home. And yet you seem reluctant to go. Why?”

  Sherry avoided his riveting gaze. “Maybe,” she said softly, “I was bored to tears in Sundown. Maybe this is the most excitement I’ve ever had.

  Maybe I think I’ve found something here worth sticking around for.”

  “Just like that?” Hickok marveled at her honesty.

  “Just like that!” Sherry threw his earlier response back at him.

  “Women!” Hickok said in exasperation. “And you talk about the male ego!”

  “I’m going with you,” Sherry vowed.

  “What about the Trolls?” Hickok inquired.

  “What about them?”

  “For crying out loud, woman, they raped you!” he snapped savagely.

  Sherry recoiled from the violence in his tone, stunned. “Hey, don’t worry about me. I’m okay. Really. I hated what they did to me. I loathed it! I wanted to kill them if I could! I’ll probably bear the emotional scar the remainder of my life. But except for some bruises, they
didn’t hurt me physically. They were saving me for more fun. At least, they were until right before you arrived. I heard them say they were going to kill me.”

  “I’m glad I killed them,” Hickok declared.

  “So am I.” Sherry smiled hopefully. “So the argument is over and I’m going with you, right?”

  “I don’t know,” Hickok hedged.

  “I can help you,” she stated. “I’m a good shot. I won’t get in your way. You can trust me.”

  “I don’t trust very many people,” Hickok admitted.

  “Give me a chance,” Sherry urged him.

  “You sure are spunky. I’ll give you that,” Hickok conceded.

  “Is that good?” Sherry queried him.

  “I like spunk in a woman,” Hickok revealed.

  Sherry smiled and gently placed her right hand on his arm. “Then that’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time. Let’s hear it for spunk!”

  Hickok realized Silvester was staring at them, grinning. He aimed the Henry at the Mole. “And just what are you looking at?”

  Silvester buried his face in the grass.

  “You still haven’t answered me,” Sherry pointed out.

  Hickok frowned and sighed. “I hope I don’t live to regret my decision, but…”

  Sherry squealed in delight and twirled completely around.

  “Wait a minute before you get all excited,” Hickok said. “There are some conditions.”

  “Such as?”

  “You do what I tell you,” Hickok informed her, “when I tell you. Agreed?”

  “Yes, master!”

  “Don’t be smart! If I tell you to stay put, you’ll obey me?”

  “Till death do us part,” she pledged, giggling.

  “Be serious! We could face life-and-death situations, and I want to minimize the risks. I need complete compliance with any order I give…”

  “That could be fun!”

  “…with no questions asked,” he finished.

  “May I ask a question?” she inquired.

  Hickok lowered his head and sighed. “What?”

  “Does this compliance include after we make camp for the night?”

  Hickok impatiently began tapping his right toe. “There you go again!”

  “I’m spunky, remember?” she reminded him.