Dakota Run

by David Robbins

“Rory?” Hamlin moaned. “Rory is with them?”

  Kilrane nodded. “So is Boone.”

  “But I thought Rory hardly ever left Redfield,” Hamlin said, his fright evident.

  “So did I,” Kilrane confirmed.

  “What’s he doing way out here?” Hamlin demanded.

  “We’ll know in a moment,” Kilrane predicted.

  “They’re closing in behind us!” another Legionnaire shouted.

  Geronimo edged the brown stallion alongside the Palomino. “Will Rory shoot you in cold blood?”

  “Don’t think so,” Kilrane opined. “He’ll want to gloat, knowing him.

  He’ll want to brag a spell before he does us in. That’s good.”

  “Good?” came from Cynthia. “How can that be good?”

  “You’ll see,” was all Kilrane would answer.

  Geronimo kept his eyes on the approaching line of horsemen. Two men in the middle of the line, and slightly in front of it, drew his interest. One of them was a tall, handsome frontiersman in buckskins, the other a stocky man wearing brown pants and a brown shirt, emanating an impression of sheer power. Geronimo guessed the taller man was Rory and the other one Boone.

  The Cavalry line stopped five yards from the clustered Legion patrol.

  “We meet again, bastard!” Kilrane said to the shorter rider with his blond hair cropped close to his head.

  “Is that any way to greet your proper leader?” the stocky man retorted.

  Geronimo sighed. So much for his deductive insights! The one in the buckskins must be Boone.

  “Howdy, Boone,” Kilrane greeted the tall rider. “Long time no see.”

  Boone nodded. “It’s been too long.”

  “Well, isn’t this touching?” Rory sarcastically snarled. He glanced at Boone. “You sure you’re on the right side?”

  Boone stared at Rory until the latter, uneasy, turned away.

  “Take a good look, men!” Rory shouted to his followers. “Take a good look at the mighty Kilrane! He’s nothing more than a common traitor and deserves a traitor’s fate!”

  “What fate might that be?” Kilrane calmly inquired.

  “Oh,” Rory said shyly, “I was thinking along the lines of death by hanging.”

  “You planning to put the noose around my neck yourself?” Kilrane questioned him.

  “I’d love to!” Rory shouted.

  “Rolf wouldn’t like it,” Kilrane casually remarked.

  At the mention of his brother’s name, Rory became livid with rage. His hands dropped to his automatic pistols.

  Geronimo caught a flicker of motion out of the corner of his eye.

  Kilrane held his revolver in his right hand, pointed at Rory’s chest.

  Rory blanched, his hands on the pistol grips.

  No one else moved. The riders on both sides glanced nervously at one another, some with their hands near their weapons.

  “You should have shot me on sight,” Kilrane said to Rory, and then he raised his voice so everyone could hear. “Don’t anyone interfere! This is between Rory and me!” He paused. “But it involves all of you, so listen up!”

  All parties were focused on Kilrane.

  “You all know me!” Kilrane shouted. “You know my word is true. If there’s anyone who thinks I’m a liar, speak up now.”

  There was a murmur among the Cavalry men, but none of them spoke up.

  Kilrane took their silence as agreement. “All right. Then you know what I’m about to tell you is true.” He hesitated, grinning at Rory, taunting him. “Most of us are tired of the split! We’re sick of the separation, of the two camps, of being called the Cavalry and the Legion. We want to be one people again! We want to be nothing but the Cavalry! Am I right?”

  Geronimo watched the Cavalry men, noting the look in their eyes as many of them nodded their heads in assent. A chorus of cries rose from the ranks.

  “You know we do!” yelled one man.

  “You got it!”

  “Of course!”

  “Long live the Cavalry!”

  Kilrane patiently waited for the hubbub to subside. “Okay, then! If you want the two sides united again, you may be like me and wonder why we’re staying apart. Does anyone know?”

  None of the men responded.

  “Does anyone even know why we split up in the first place?”

  Again, no one replied.

  “Well, I’ll tell you!” Kilrane shouted.

  Rory’s face was beet red, his veins bulging on his beefy neck.

  “I was there when it happened,” Kilrane told them, “so I know what I’m talking about!” He stopped and scanned the riders. “But first I want to tell you the reason I’m telling you all this. I had a chance to do a lot of thinking in the past day or so, thinking about how stupid we’ve been.

  Stupid! Why? Because we allowed a bitter feud between two brothers to separate us, to draw us apart, to cause us to fight each other, although our hearts aren’t in it. We don’t want to kill each other! Because we know that being part of the Cavalry or the Legion is all the same! We’re still brothers!

  It’s like being part of one big family!” Kilrane pointed at Geronimo. “Do you see this man here? He’s a stranger. You don’t know him. But he said something to me that started me thinking. He said that his people would worry about him, and I got the impression they would send someone looking for him. Think about that! I did! It reminded me of how it used to be, how it was before the break. Do you remember? In the old days, if anyone attacked even one of us, they faced the wrath of all of us. We were the Cavalry, by damn, and we stuck together through thick and thin! Do you remember?”

  The uproar was deafening.

  Kilrane sat quietly until the din tapered off. “And now look at us!

  Brother fighting brother! Cousin against cousin! And why? I’ll tell you why!” Kilrane gestured toward the furious Rory, “Because of him! Because of that… slime… we grew apart! Ten years ago Rolf announced he was leaving, and many of us volunteered to go with him, not understanding what was going on. At the time, I was pledged to silence. But what’s a promise compared to the welfare of our entire people?” Kilrane sighed, his baleful gaze locked on Rory. “The reason Rolf stepped down, the reason he left and started the rift in our people, was because Rory raped Adrian!”

  The last three words exploded from his lips.

  Geronimo saw all eyes turn toward Rory, studying him, measuring him, testing the validity of Kilrane’s revelation.

  “Raped Adrian?” one man said skeptically. “Why didn’t Rolf kill Rory then?”

  “You know Rolf,” Kilrane answered. “Remember how he always let Rory get away with almost anything? He always was soft on his brother. Maybe it had something to do with them being twins. I don’t know. I do know he allowed Adrian to talk him out of killing Rory.”

  “And that’s it?” another Cavalry rider asked. “That’s the real reason we’ve been subjected to a decade of grief? That’s why we’ve endured ten years of alienation and separation?”

  Kilrane nodded.

  Geronimo observed the men talking amongst themselves, many casting expressions of loathing and hostility at Rory.

  “And that’s it,” Kilrane concluded. “Frankly, I’m tired of it. I want us reunited! I want us as one people again! Are you with me?”

  Their response was a clamorous affirmative.

  “Who’s going to lead us if we get back together?” one man demanded when it was quiet again.

  Hamlin suddenly cupped his hands to his mouth. “Who else should lead us but Kilrane? Kilrane! Kilrane!”

  The chant was taken up by the others, and soon it became a swelling litany.

  Kilrane held his left hand aloft for silence. “I appreciate the honor,” he stated, “but this time we’ll do it right. This time we’ll put it to a vote of all our people.”

  “But what about Rolf?” someone inquired.

  “Rolf can run for leader the same as anyone else,” Kilrane replied. />
  “More to the point,” questioned an elderly rider, “what about Rory?”

  “Hang the bastard!” a rider screamed.

  “How about a firing squad?” suggested another.

  “Geld the son of a bitch!”

  Geronimo, amused, watched Rory squirm. He was looking around in stark fear, vainly searching for support.

  “Maybe we should send him into the Dead Zone,” Kilrane recommended, “on foot.”

  Rory gulped and finally found his voice. “It isn’t true!” he feebly protested. “How can you believe him? I never raped Adrian! You believe me, don’t you?”

  His appeal was useless. He realized that. The faces confronting him were as hard as granite.

  “No one is going to back you up,” Kilrane said quietly. “So let’s get this over with. How do you want to go out? A bullet in the brain? I’d love to do it!” he said, mimicking Rory’s earlier statement.

  Rory licked his thick lips, his mind racing, trying to find a way out.

  Suddenly an idea occurred to him and he smiled. “I demand a trial by combat!”

  Geronimo detected a stirring, an unrest, in the horsemen. Snatches of conversation drifted his way, and he overheard enough to learn the men did not like the idea.

  Kilrane was frowning. “Trial by combat?”

  “It’s my right!” Rory exclaimed. “You know it is! It’s been the law since the Cavalry was formed.”

  Geronimo saw Kilrane glance at Boone.

  Boone, clearly displeased, nodded. “The bastard has a point. He does have the right.”

  Kilrane surveyed the other riders. “Rory has requested a trial by combat! We have no choice! His request must be granted.”

  Mutterings and mumblings arose from the men.

  “Okay, Rory,” Kilrane addressed him. “If we denied you a trial by combat, we’d set a bad precedent for the others. According to the law, if you survive the combat, you will be permitted to leave here unmolested.”

  “Why do you think I picked it?” Rory asked, mocking his nemesis.

  Kilrane’s lips tightened. “Also according to the law, you are allowed two choices. First, your choice of weapons.”

  “I pick the lance,” Rory stated.

  “He’s crafty, that Rory,” Hamlin whispered to Geronimo and Cynthia.

  “He’s good with the lance, and he knows it.”

  “The lance, then,” Kilrane declared. “All that remains is for you to pick your opponent.”

  Rory twisted his neck, examining the men, hunting for the ideal foe.

  “We haven’t got all day,” Kilrane snapped after some time had elapsed.

  Rory, unexpectedly, smiled, seeming to relax, to suddenly become surprisingly confident. “I’ve made my decision.”

  “So who is it?” Kilrane demanded. “Who gets the honor of doing you in?”

  Rory, grinning, slowly raised his right hand. Everyone watched with bated breath, awaiting his selection. Rory extended his pudgy index finger, smirking. “I have a right to trial by combat!” he yelled. “I also have the right to select the man I will fight, and that man… is… Aim!” Rory abruptly leveled his arm, indicating his intended adversary.

  It took Geronimo several seconds before he realized who the antagonist would be.

  Rory was pointing at him!

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It was late afternoon. The sun was high overhead in a clear blue sky.

  Except for Beta Triad on guard duty on the walls, and Spartacus and Seiko watching the prisoners in the infirmary, the entire Family was gathered on the commons between the Blocks to hear a special announcement from Plato. Men, women, and children were packed into a tight circle, their faces directed toward Plato and several of the Elders. Blade stood off to one side, about eight feet from Plato, in the center of the encircling Family.

  “I will make this as brief as possible,” Plato began. “For the benefit of those who might have been outside the Home wrestling mutates all day, two couples have declared their intention to bind in four days. I know how much we love to gossip, so I imagine everyone already is aware of the fact, but for the few still ignorant of the news. Blade and Jenny and Hickok and Sherry are going to marry in a double ceremony.”

  There was a spattering of applause, laced with expressions of delight from several of the women, and one or two suggestions from the men on the proper wedding night activities.

  “That’s only part of the news,” Plato continued. “We are all painfully cognizant of the shortage of Warriors, a deficiency made glaringly obvious by the Troll raid on our Home some time back. Consequently, the Elders have decided to add another Triad to the four already in existence. Joining Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and Omega Triads will be Zulu Triad. Additionally, we must fill the vacancy in Gamma Triad created by the demise of its leader.”

  Some of the Family began conversing in muted tones, discussing the fate of Napoleon, the late powermonger and former leader of Gamma Triad.

  “The Elders have also reached the conclusion Alpha Triad should return to the Twin Cities soon. That being the case, and in order to assure adequate time to provide minimal training, we have elected to announce the final candidates for Warrior status. I’m afraid we’re rushing into this.

  I’d prefer more time to devote to training the new Warriors before Alpha Triad departs, but for reasons I will elaborate upon later, it is imperative Alpha Triad hasten to the Twin Cities and establish a friendly pact with the inhabitants. So…” He paused and surveyed the dozens of faces surrounding him. “If there are no objections, we will proceed with the induction of the new Warriors.”

  None of the Family lodged a protest.

  “Excellent,” Plato resumed. “We were honored this time to have ten candidates for Warriorhood. Unfortunately, we only require four at this point. Regrettably, this means six had to be eliminated. I want to stress, for the benefit of those six, that being dropped from current consideration does not adversely reflect on their personality or qualifications for the post. It simply means the four chosen embraced certain factors or experience essential for becoming a seasoned Warrior, factors predicated on incidental circumstances and not deliberate design.”

  Hickok, who was standing two feet from Blade, Sherry at his side, leaned forward. “You know, pard,” he whispered, “you’re always saying how funny I talk sometimes, but at least folks can understand me!”

  “First I will announce the replacement for Gamma Triad,” Plato stated.

  “Because he displayed considerable courage during his confrontation with the Moles, and because Hickok vouches for his potential, and overlooking his insubordination when he left the Home without permission and was later captured, the Elders have chosen Shane as…”

  Plato’s comments were loudly punctuated by a shout of delight from the chosen one.

  Others laughed at Shane’s reaction.

  “…the new Gamma Warrior. While on the subject of Gamma Triad, you all know they require a new leader. So, because of his loyalty in the face of deliberate rebellion, and with Blade’s highest recommendation, the Elders have picked Spartacus as the new head of Gamma Triad.”

  A young woman, Spartucus’s girlfriend, broke away from the Family and ran toward the infirmary, her long black hair flying, as she raced to convey the good news.

  “As for the new Triad, Zulu Triad,” Plato continued, “we have selected the following three individuals to comprise it. The first is Crockett, in light of his exceptional marksmanship and confirmed bravery. We all recall how he saved several of the children from that mutated wolf. Our second pick is Samson, for his undisputed allegiance to the Family, and for being one of the few who can boast a physique almost as mighty as Blade’s.”

  Plato stopped and cleared his throat.

  “Before I reveal the third new Zulu Warrior, an explanation is called for. Some of you might question the wisdom of our next candidate, but hopefully you will understand after I supply a bit of background. As all of you are aware,
a number of outsiders have come to dwell among us in recent months. We have, of course, embraced them with open arms, and been delighted at the ease with which they have found a niche in the Family culture. One of them has impressed us with her integrity and her devotion to our ideals. This morning, when our Home was invaded by a pair of genetic deviates sent by the nefarious Doktor, she displayed considerable courage in opposing a creature of formidable power and savagery…”

  Hickok flinched as Sherry’s fingernails dug into his right forearm.

  “…and was slightly injured in the process. And, in a rare formal appeal, three of our most skilled, accomplished Warriors petitioned the Elders to suspend normal procedure and hear their request for her induction.

  Usually, as you know, we permit one Warrior to sponsor a new candidate for Warrior status. In this case we made an exception. When the likes of Blade, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, and even Yama come to the Elders and urge acceptance of their unique nomination, believe me, the Elders listen…”

  Sherry placed her lips near Hickok’s right ear. “All three of them? I hardly know Yama! Why would all three vote for me?”

  “Because I begged them to,” Hickok quietly replied.

  “Really?”

  “No. I threatened to tell everyone they like to wear dresses to bed.”

  “…so without further ado, I am proud to announce that Sherry, the woman from Canada, has been selected as a new Warrior.”

  Before Hickok could grab her, Sherry released his arm and ran to Plato, startling the Leader by hugging him and kissing him on the left cheek.

  “Thank you!” she happily blurted. “Thank you! This is the best wedding present I could have received!” She released him and darted to Hickok’s side.

  Plato, flustered by her display of affection and gratitude, managed a lopsided grin. “Thank the Spirit all of our Warriors aren’t women,” he quipped, “or my wife might become extremely jealous!”

  There was a spontaneous outpouring of mirth from the assembled Family.

  “In summation,” Plato eventually went on, “we feel the Family will be well served by the additional Warriors. We can increase the number of patrols on the walls, and afford the Warriors more leisure and recreation time. An overworked, fatigued Warrior does not function at peak effectiveness, and might actually endanger the Family by an inadvertent mistake. Does anyone have any comment to make concerning the selections?”