Chapter One
“Now guys, c’mon. I’ll be okay! Honest!”
“Yeah, right Mike. Remember what happened the last time?”
Mike turned away from the sink, his hands and forearms covered in soap and water, to face Peter. “Yeah, but Shah-ku’s in jail now!”
Peter nodded. “Yes, but remember what we promised? We have enemies. I, for one, am not letting you blow alone. Didn’t we all learn that lesson with Micky and the Tanks?”
Mike sighed. “All right, all right . . . you guys can come.”
A cheer went up at the solemn pronouncement. The next morning they piled into the car, giving Mr. Bennett the door key with the promise that he would keep an eye on the house—and their instruments—while they were away.
Bennett nodded. “Be careful, boys. Call when you get there.”
“We will,” Micky said, poking Mike in the back. “So you won’t worry.”
“Thank you.” Bennett smiled. “Have fun.”
“We’ll try,” Mike said, revving the engine and peeling away from the curb with a pure Texas “Yeeehaw!”
They laughed and Bennett smiled as he watched them go. Then a thought struck him and he moved to the closet. Opening it, he nodded in satisfaction. Their outfits and weapons were gone. “Good boys,” he whispered.
~~~~~
Early the next morning the Monkeemobile pulled up in front of a small green farmhouse that huddled about thirty or forty yards from a huge red barn. The fields sloped gently, with small trees lining the dirt path that stretched from the road to the house.
“Is this it, Mike?”
“Yep,” Mike said, shutting off the engine. “This is my Aunt Kate’s little green house.”
Micky looked around. “This is where you were raised?”
Mike nodded. “Pretty much. Learned to ride a horse, shoot a gun, all the typical Texas cowpoke stuff.” He got out of the car and leaned on it, looking around. “Hasn’t changed much.”
“It’s nice,” Davy said, sitting up on the back seat. “Bit spare.”
Mike turned, raising an eyebrow. “‘Bit spare’?”
“T’hear you talk about it, I expected trees . . . farmland . . . ”
“What are you talkin’ about? There’s trees here!” Mike said, gesturing to the small shade trees around the house and the larger ones further out.
“I think he’s thinking of a forest,” Micky said as he vaulted out of the car.
“Oh. Well, you won’t find any of those here, no.”
“It’s nice,” Peter said, smiling. “Very loving place.” As if in a direct parody of his words, gunshots rang out.
Mike instinctively ducked. “What the hell!?”
“Get outta here!” a woman’s voice rang out.
“Peter, did that come from the house?” Mike shouted.
“Yes!” Peter shouted back, slamming the button to open the trunk, which acted as a shield.
“You guys stay here!” Mike commanded, slowly peering over the edge of the car. “Aunt Kate!?”
Silence, then “Michael?”
“Yeah, it’s me! Quit shootin’ at us!”
In reply, two more shots sounded, and they heard Kate barking at ‘Lucy’ to stop firing.
“Is it over?” Micky said, cautiously raising his head.
“I hope so,” Davy growled.
“Only one way to find out,” Mike said, standing up. No shots. “I guess it’s over, then. C’mon guys—let’s go see what’s the deal.”
“Oh, you mean it isn’t customary to shoot at guests?” Micky said. He found himself on the end of three withering glares. “What did I say?” he said, following them to the house. “C’mon, guys—it was just a joke!”
An older woman in a faded gingham dress swept out and into Mike’s arms. “It is you.”
Mike hugged her back. “What in the world is going on, Aunt Kate? You don’t usually greet people with gunshots.”
“We ain’t usually under siege,” the younger woman behind her growled.
“Siege?” Mike said.
“Come inside . . . it’s safer there,” Kate sighed.
Mike couldn’t help looking over his shoulder as he herded the others inside. Outside felt creepy, like he was being watched.
The other woman turned out to be a lovely blonde with a slightly battle-hardened expression. Mike quickly introduced Aunt Kate to his friends, his eyes still locked on the younger woman.
Kate chuckled. “Why, Mike, don’t you remember your baby cousin Lucy?”
The blonde smiled slightly.
“Lu—Lucy?” Both women nodded slightly. “Well whatever happened to the buck-teethed, knock-kneed, stringy-haired, bad-complexioned little girl that I used to hang around with?” Mike asked, plainly astounded at his cousin’s transformation.
Kate laughed heartily. “That’s your other cousin, Clara. She still looks the same.”
“Oh merciful heavens,” Mike muttered, blushing.
Micky giggled at that and leaned toward Davy. “We’ll have to double-date sometime. You can have Clara.”
Davy hit Micky in the stomach with his elbow; only the smooth movements of Mike and Peter stopped a full-blown wrestling match.
Their attention was drawn back to Lucy, who was now looking out of the window, gripping her gun tightly. She looked every inch a sentry on guard duty.
“Aunt Kate, I think you’d better tell us what’s goin’ on.”
She sighed. “It’s awful confusing. I’m not sure where to begin!”
“Beginning at the start might be nice,” Peter said.
“Well, it started a few months ago . . . Black Bart and his gang started terrorizing our ranch.”
“Black Bart?” Davy asked. “What sorta name is that?”
“The name that slimebag uses,” Lucy growled, eyes still scanning the horizon. “That slimy, two-faced . . . ” She began a litany of curses that dropped subvocally.
“Is he botherin’ anyone else around here?” Mike asked.
“No, just us.”
“But why would he be after you? That doesn’t make any sense!”
“None of this makes sense!” Kate sighed, throwing her hands up. “Not Black Bart, not any of it!”
Mike stuck his thumbs in his belt. “Where can I find this Black Bart, anyway?”
“If we knew that, don’t you think I’d’ve sent Lucy after them? Look at her!” Kate sighed again, looking at her niece with undisguised worry.
“She’s not goin’ anywhere,” Mike rumbled. “I’m here, and I’m gonna solve this.”
“Mike.” she touched his cheek. “Sweet boy . . . you’ve never outgrown that feet-first mentality, have you?”
Especially not now . . . “Nope.”
“Mike, I think it’d be good if we sat down, had something to eat, and maybe planned a little, instead of just running out into God knows what?” Peter said.
“Yeah, I agree,” Micky said, eyes on Lucy. “I think it’d be a very good idea.” She scowled at him.
“Easy, Micky,” Davy whispered. “Remember whose cousin that is.”
“Yeah, she’s got his eyes,” he sighed, moving to the table.
“Yeah, and she probably has his fists, too!” Davy hissed, sitting down next to him.
Kate hugged Mike as he sat down. “I have missed you so mu—” She blinked and frowned, pushing his hair out of the way. “What’s this?”
Mike flinched as her cold fingertips touched the back of his neck. “Wh-what’s what?”
“Looks like someone’s drawn on you with indelible ink.”
Mike exchanged a glance with Peter.
Peter sighed. “Maybe scarves?” he quipped softly.
Mike gave him a look. “Well, um . . . Aunt Kate, that is a, um . . . tattoo.”
Her hand connected forcefully with the back of his head. “You got a tattoo?”
“Ow!” Mike said, shielding himself. “Yeah, sorta!”
“We all have them, ma’am,” Peter said, pulling his hair aside to show her his.
Lucy smiled. “Like an initiation thing?”
“Sort of,” Mike said. “Can we talk in private? I gotta explain somethin’.”
Kate nodded. “I think that’s best. Lucy, would you—”
“I’ll keep watch, don’t worry,” was her immediate answer.
Kate’s eyes closed. “I meant could you get them some food?”
“Oh . . . okay, sure.”
Peter watched as Mike led Kate to the door and outside into the dusk. Everything at the table was still and quiet except for the sounds Lucy made while she fixed them some food—still and quiet until they heard a woman’s shriek.
On to Chapter Two
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