by James Axler
“Now.”
The whitecoat turned and scurried off. Hammerhand watched him go. He’s going to be trouble, he thought. Well, what else is new?
He turned and signaled to Mindy who sitting behind the wheel of the Cherokee with Mariah and Corn Blossom in the backseat. He had had her park the wag twenty-five yards from his tepee to give everybody a little room while he announced to his current main squeezes their new duties.
The wag was surrounded by a grim phalanx of a dozen of his most loyal followers—mostly originals from his small, scrubby-assed renegade band, or early recruits. A crowd of Bloods had gathered at a somewhat nervous distance to peer at the new passenger in curiosity and fear.
And sometimes hate. They’d lost dozens of Bloods in Lone Calf, and most of them had been chilled by the innocuous little girl sitting huddled against Corn Blossom’s soft, capacious flanks.
The wag rolled slowly toward the big tepee, which was painted with imposing symbols of power, like bears, tigers and dragons. Hammerhand had always liked dragons.
As it came to a stop, an ugly rumble came from the crowd, which had grown to north of a hundred.
“There’s the witch who chilled so many of our people!” a voice rang out from somewhere prudently back in the press.
Hammerhand’s sec team looked to him. They were eager and seemed ready to go and root out the loudmouth.
He shook his head. Instead he climbed up on the wag’s hood and held his hands up.
“New Blood Nation, listen to me,” he called in his best buffalo-bull voice. “I understand your pain. We’ve all lost someone.
“But let’s all try looking at this square, shall we? We tried to kidnap her. We did. I should know. I ordered it. She fought back, the best way she could. And yeah, it was effective. But honor to both sides.”
“Is that really how you see it, boss?” somebody called.
“It really is.”
That won a chorus of assent, if not as full-bodied as he’d like. He decided to press on.
“This is not the first time we have welcomed into our clan those who have fought against us, who have fought well and chilled some of us, even. You, Iron Bear—you chilled three of our people when we fought your Ka’igwu raiding band of the Missouri River. And I myself saw you, Xunyi, kill four at Coyote Springs, including a warrior in hand-to-hand battle. You fought bravely until overpowered.
“And did we seek vengeance? No. We welcomed you with open arms.”
He spread his arms wide, open palms toward the sky.
“Because you joined us, of your free will, you have become our blood. True Bloods. It is only those who betray us, or those who defy us, who feel the Hammer.”
He raised his right hand and clenched it into a fist.
“So it is that, when this girl asked to join us—” he had to hide the truth “—I agreed to take her in and let her earn her place among us. And you all know what power she has to offer our Nation.
“And it’s how it’s going to be. Make no mistakes, my brothers and sisters, this girl is under my protection. And if you lift a hand against her, I will remind you that I am not called ‘Hammerhand’ for shits and giggles!”
This time the cheering was widespread and lusty enough that, as Hammerhand turned left and right, luxuriating in it, he gave Mindy a nod and a wink through the windshield. She opened the door and called to the chief of his sec detail, a sandy-haired young man called Travis Sweetwater. He quietly formed his crew into a perimeter between the crowd on one side and the wag and lodge on the other just in case.
Corn Blossom opened the rear door and got out holding Mariah’s hand. That still brought some hissing and catcalls, but Corn Blossom was widely respected as a healer, which helped. Mindy squired them both quickly inside the tepee.
He gave the brethren and sisters a bit more of a rousing rah-rah speech—cracking jokes about where they had all come from, what outcast outlaws they were and, of course, their victories, of which there were many. He had fun with it, and they ate it up. That was nothing new, and he felt fully comfortable with it.
He’d always been persuasive, and once he found he liked talking to crowds, he quickly made himself good at it. That more than anything had caused him to get the boot from the Kainawa band: not just that he was considered subversive to their holy tradition, but that he was so rad-blasted good at swaying others from it.
He left them laughing and calling for more, just the way he liked to. They chanted his name as he ducked into the tepee.
“I want to see how you’re—” He stopped speaking abruptly.
His two female companions had Mariah ensconced amid a pile of furs they used as a bed. Prairie Fire had put on a doeskin dress. Shelley had more or less draped herself with a buffalo robe instead of actually getting dressed. But it was a gesture, and despite the flashes of pale freckled skin that kept coming out when she moved, Hammerhand was willing to accept it as a start.
The pair already had Mariah’s night-black hair unwound from its tight, skinny pigtails and were combing it out and cooing over her. The girl looked a little nervous, but she was staying put and seemed to be relaxing and enjoying the attention.
She ignored him, which suited him fine.
“Why didn’t you tell us she was so adorable?” Prairie Fire asked.
He shrugged. The black-haired woman gave him a how-like-a-man sniff.
You didn’t see her siccing her pet devil tornado on our people like a rabid dog, he thought, and rubbing out most of the ville she was in in the bargain. He did not say any such thing.
Mindy scowled and was clearly about to enlighten the pair. Hammerhand caught her eye and shook his head.
She shot him a spear-tipped look, then she wheeled and stalked out.
Fine ass, he thought as he watched her go. Shame she’s so tight with it. But it was the right of every Blood to sleep with whom they chose. Rape was a chilling offense and not reluctantly enforced. No skin off his ass. His problem wasn’t women telling him no. It was having to tell so many no. Or he’d never get any conquering done.
The mission came first. Always.
And his current mission seemed well accomplished. Even if it took longer and cost more than he’d ever dreamed.
He nodded pleasantly. “Well, I’ll leave you ladies to it. Treat our new member well. Welcome home, Mariah.”
She looked at him but gave no other sign.
“Wait,” Shelley called out as he turned to go. “Have somebody come up with some decent clothes for her. This dress she’s got on smells like the hide of a two-days-dead goat.”
Chapter Thirty
“If you won’t let us avenge our murdered brothers and sisters—if you won’t let me avenge my sister—against that monster, then you aren’t worthy to lead your own nation, Hammerhand.”
The sun shone hot. The wind whispered in the tall grass. Hammerhand stood alone toward one side of the open patch, gazing calmly into the furious black eyes of the warrior who faced him within a circle formed by a growing, nervously excited throng of Blood onlookers.
His challenger was another Blackfoot—a Sikiska, or what some called a “true” Blackfoot. Like many of the North Plains First Nations he was tall—a mere two inches shorter than Hammerhand—and spare, with wide muscle-roped shoulders. He wore only buckskin pants, his weapons belt and an eagle feather in his black ponytail. His craggy features were painted red from the eyes up, dead white below. He had at least three confirmed kills to his belt, every one hand-to-hand.
All told, he was a serious chiller. People were tense.
“Is that your last answer, Three Suns?” Hammerhand asked. Like his opponent, he wore only a belted knife and a pair of pants.
He knew many in the Nation still harbored hatred in their hearts for Mariah and festering resentment agai
nst Hammerhand for insisting she become one of them. So when the inevitable challenge had come, he had welcomed it.
“It is,” Three Suns said. “Now and forever.”
“Forever’s a long time, my friend. So be it. Do what you must do, Blood.”
Three Suns whipped out his hunting knife and raised it over his head.
Hammerhand was already in motion the moment steel cleared sheath. He crossed the intervening space in three lightning steps. He caught the still-rising knife arm beneath the triceps with his left hand. His right hand he brought slamming down onto Three Suns’ forehead in a furious hammer fist.
Bone crunched. Three Suns’ eyes rolled up in the red half of his face. The knife fell from his hand, and his legs folded beneath him.
The onlookers gasped. The front of his forehead was dented in by the brutal force of the blow.
Hammerhand shot his hands above his head in triumph, which gave him a pretext to wag his stinging fingers. Nuke! I need to practice that shit more often, he thought.
The crowd erupted into chanting his name, and he marinated himself thoroughly in their adulation.
* * *
“SHE SAYS YOU can come in,” Mindy Farseer said, poking her head out the flap of Hammerhand’s tepee in the early-morning light. “She wants to see you.”
It was the early morning of the second day since Hammerhand had brought the strange and dangerous girl to his tepee. The day before, he had quieted down the lynch-mob talk with his brief but impressive performance in his duel with Three Suns.
He had spent the past couple nights in a borrowed yurt with Miao and Gracie, another pair of women from his volunteer harem. And remembering their smooth-bodied beauty and almost-matching green eyes, he couldn’t think he’d gotten the worst of the bargain. This morning he reckoned it was time to check in on Mariah.
“You don’t seem triple pleased about this,” he said to his lieutenant.
She emerged and stood up. “I’m confused,” she said. “Is that ace with you? I don’t really know what to think about all this. Or feel.”
“Whatever you say, Mindy. I know you’re there for me, whatever happens.”
She looked around. Nobody was near enough to overhear.
“What is this going to do to us, Hammerhand?”
“Either make us an empire or destroy us. I don’t see much middle ground there. If that’s what you mean.”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t, but whatever.”
Mindy started to walk on.
“We’re after the good here,” he called after her. “The power to do good. And if what we do is righteous, the way we do it is righteous, too!”
Without looking back she waved and kept on walking.
Shaking his head and grumbling under his breath, Hammerhand turned, stooped and entered the lodge.
It was dark inside and still warm against the previous night’s cool temperature with trapped body heat. It had a comforting feel and smell of home.
Mariah was dressed in fine doeskin. Her hair hung free, black and lustrous. A couple of giggling girls of about her own age were showing her how to play rock-paper-scissors. Of course there were children in the Nation; it was truly shaping up as that. Mariah wasn’t exactly taking part, but she was watching with interest, with something that might hint at a smile on her thin lips.
A spill of orange hair from beneath a heap of buffalo robes indicated Shelley was still sacked out. Prairie Fire nodded a greeting to Hammerhand and went back to stirring a pot of rabbit stew brought fresh from the fire outside.
The two girls looked at him wide-eyed as he approached. “Give me a few minutes with her, will you, ladies?” he asked. They nodded quickly, hopped up and scampered out.
Mariah gazed at him as he sat down across from her, none too close. He didn’t want her to feel crowded. For any number of reasons.
“Your old friends betrayed you,” he said. “You know that, don’t you?”
For a moment she frowned so ferociously he feared he had overplayed his hand. I fear no man nor power on this Earth, he thought. But I don’t see there’s shame in fearing her power. Whatever it is, it isn’t of this world.
Then she nodded. Tears ran from her eyes.
He nodded. “So you’re with me? Please?”
She nodded, then she raised her head and her eyes were clear, if red. “Yes. I am with you.”
He nodded and stood. “Right. Then I say to you, Mariah, I will be big brother to you, and the Blood Nation will be your family, for so long as the sun keeps crossing the sky!”
* * *
THE COMPANIONS STOOD in the grass of a knoll and watched the old trader and his heavily laden mules make their way across a rolling landscape yellowed by the early-evening light. A herd of pronghorns watched the procession pass from a rise to the east.
“So Hammerhand’s got himself a ‘young witch who can summon the power of the storm to blast his foes,’” Ryan said, shaking his head.
“You think that’s Mariah?” Ricky asked.
“Of course it is,” Ryan said. “Who else could it be?”
He scratched his ear. “Hammerhand got her after all. I should’ve expected that, I suppose.”
“He’s forcing her to work for him against her will,” Krysty said. “He has to be!”
J.B. snorted. “How you reckon that’s possible?”
“But she fought against him, when he tried to kidnap her.”
“Mebbe he asked nice this time,” Ryan said. “He seems like a smart man.”
“Why would she ever join him, though?”
“She probably got to feeling we’d abandoned her, after a day or two by her lonesome,” Mildred said. “You know how loneliness works on a body. Especially when you’ve finally started to get used to friendly faces around you for the first time in your life. He could’ve won her over just by being willing to take her in.”
“But she was the one who said she had to go away.”
“And we didn’t exactly try to talk her out of it. Not even you.” Mildred shook her head. “We weren’t willing to accept what her power was...making her become. I bet he’s eager to embrace it.”
“So, what now, Ryan?” J.B. asked.
“How do you mean?”
“Do we keep doing what we’re doing or try to do something about this new situation?”
“Do something? Like what?”
“Seems like the girl’s kind of our problem. An ambitious dude like Hammerhand could do a lot of damage with power like she packs. Mebbe we should do something about one or the other.”
“A daunting task,” Doc said, “either way.”
“Doc’s right,” Ryan agreed. “I’m not ready to throw my life away just yet, or even this line of work, truth to tell. I like this break from jumping all over the place to nuke knows where. We’ve got it easier than we have had in a long time, just being errand runners. Hammerhand hasn’t come after us so far. Until and unless he does, I think we keep on doing what we’re doing.”
“But won’t Mariah make him too powerful?” Krysty asked.
“Mebbe. But remember why we had to go our separate ways. She got so she couldn’t control her own power anymore. So now I’d say she’s like a stick of dynamite that’s commenced to sweat nitroglycerin. She’s a bigger threat to Hammerhand than anybody else mebbe.”
“Mebbe,” J.B. echoed.
Ryan shrugged. “When do we ever get a better answer than ‘mebbe’?”
No one could find anything to say to that.
“You with me on this?” he asked them. They all nodded, agreeing to continue working as they had been.
“Right,” Ryan said. He took a deep breath. “Now let’s forget about mebbes and might-have-beens and start looking for a good place to camp for
the night.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“You’ve broken our deal!” Dr. Trager said accusingly.
“I don’t see it that way,” Hammerhand said calmly. He stood with legs braced and arms crossed over his chest.
They stood in a clearing on the side of a small forested mountain in the Black Hills. The New Blood Nation was currently camped in the next valley.
After a lull, its numbers had begun to increase again, once Hammerhand had demonstrated Mariah’s terrible power against a notorious baron who had defied him. There had been few survivors from the ville, a necessity that Hammerhand regretted. But the point had been made.
Apparently, it hadn’t been lost on Trager’s pals either. Not that Hammerhand expected them to give up.
“You agreed to work with us in exchange for our help,” Trager explained carefully, as if Hammerhand hadn’t been there. “We have given you a great deal of help.”
“And?”
“We tasked you to get the girl for us. You contrived to secure her, for which, believe me, I and my associates admire you. But you refuse to hand her over.”
“And?”
“This is clearly unacceptable! And I’m afraid I must demand that you honor your agreement with us.”
“You do, do you? Look, I know your friends are triple powerful. Not just from the stuff they’ve given us or done for us, and yeah, all that’s been a huge help. But the way they faked that vision I had on my little quest, that prophesied your coming. Come to that, I reckon they must’ve bribed that Lakota shaman to steer me up Rocky Top in the first place. Word is, neither she nor her daughter have been seen since not long after I consulted her. Funny coincidence, huh?”
“I fail to see what any of this has to do—”
“For all your power,” Hammerhand said, “you need me. That’s why you went through all that happy horseshit to rope me in. You want me to conquer? I’m doing that now. And that creepy little girl is definitely making it easier.
“And speaking of which, she told me some whitecoats tried to grab her and carry her into some kind of weird magic-mirror thing. That didn’t turn out so well, I hear. So if you’re thinking of puffing out your chest and trying to bluster me into giving her over, save us both the time. She’s with me, and I’ve got use for her. So she stays.”