Dakota Run

Chapter Twenty-One

“How much farther?” Cynthia asked him.

Geronimo shrugged. “I don’t know, for sure, but it can’t be too much farther.”

“What makes you say that?”

Geronimo lifted his left hand and pointed. “See that hawk up ahead?”

Cynthia squinted. “That black speck is a hawk? You must have fantastic eyesight.”

“It’s a hawk,” he assured her. “Searching for prey. I doubt any hawks would bother scouring the Dead Zone. We haven’t seen any sign of small game here. No, that hawk is probably circling over a field, looking for a rabbit or a field mouse. If I’m right, we should be out of the Dead Zone in a mile or less.”

Three-quarters of a mile later the patrol was perched on the top of a rise.

“I’ve never been so happy to see green grass in my life!” Hamlin said happily, accurately reflecting the collective sentiment.

“We can’t stop yet,” Kilrane declared. “Those Cavalry boys might still be in the area.”

“I doubt it,” Hamlin disagreed. “They must have figured the ants did their dirty work for them and went home.”

“Let’s hope so,” was Kilrane’s reply.

They rode down the rise and entered a narrow valley, a verdant patch nestled between two sloping hills.

“We need to find water for the horses,” Kilrane stated.

Their small group covered half of the valley when Kilrane abruptly reined in the Palomino. The others immediately did likewise.

“Why’d you do that?” Hamlin queried.

“I heard something,” Kilrane responded, his head cocked to one side, listening.

“Like what?” Hamlin wanted to know.

“Like them,” Kilrane said, and pointed.

“Son of a bitch!” one of the other riders snapped.

Dozens and dozens of riders were forming on the rims of the two hills.

Another line had formed directly in front of the Legion patrol, blocking their path. The only avenue still open was to their rear, back into the Dead Zone.

“They have us boxed in!” one of the men cried.

“How many are there?” Cynthia questioned, attempting to count the Cavalry riders.

“I make eighty or ninety,” Kilrane answered.

“What do we do?” Hamlin anxiously inquired. “Head back to the Dead Zone?”

Kilrane shook his head. “No. That’s what they want us to do. We wouldn’t stand a chance of surviving another night in there.”

“Then what do we do?” Hamlin nervously repeated.

“We stay put,” Kilrane announced, his blue eyes blazing.

“You’re crazy!” Hamlin exclaimed. “What chance do we have against that many men?”

“Better odds than against the ants!” Kilrane rejoined.

The Cavalry unit was closing in, the riders on the hills descending as the line in front of the Legion patrol advanced.

“They’ll mow us down!” Hamlin wailed.

Geronimo noticed Kilrane’s attention was arrested by someone in the skirmish line. The Legion captain was staring intently at the center of that line of horsemen.

“Who do you see?” the Warrior asked.

“I don’t believe it!” Kilrane replied. “We’re about to be honored with the royal presence.”

“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!