Chapter Four
“Well, you sure smell better!” Micky couldn’t resist as Mike walked back into the kitchen and sat down. “What is that, rose water?”
Mike just gave him a look of death. Davy passed Micky a spoon.
“What’s this for?”
“To dig your way out of that hole you’re digging yourself into.”
Micky twirled the spoon in his fingers. Before anyone else could say anything else, Lucy leapt from the windowsill. “Riders comin’ in!”
Moving as one, the Winds sprang into action, leaping from their chairs. Lucy grabbed a rifle and threw it to Kate. “It’s them!”
Mike spun about. “Kate! Lucy! Get down! Peter, Micky, you come with me! Davy, you stay here and help Kate and Lucy secure the house!”
Peter and Micky fell in step and Davy nodded. The black horses drew to a stop several yards from the house. “Peter, I’m goin’ out there. You and Mick sneak around the house and flank me, just in case he decides to get nasty.”
Micky nodded and drew a pair of stars from the pouch as he peeled off.
Peter nodded and laid his hand on Mike’s arm. “Be careful.”
“Always.” Mike straightened and opened the door, marching onto the porch to face his nemesis.
Bart was an older man wearing a mask, dressed all in black. He leaned forward. “Ah, there you are. You’re the spittin’ image of your father.”
“Cut the pleasantries,” Mike scowled. “What do you want?”
“You and your family off of my land.”
“This land belongs to my Aunt Kate. Her name’s on the deed and she ain’t sellin’.”
Bart shook his head. “A pity. Such fire, too. You’ve got three hours to change her mind, Nesmith. Or I’ll blow those sideburns off your face and send your face after it.”
“Boss, he ain’t no pushover,” one of Bart’s men hissed.
“Neither am I,” he hissed back. “Three hours, Nesmith. We’ll be back!” He wheeled his horse around and rode out. Mike stood still, waiting until Micky and Peter had joined him. “We gotta get ready. Uniforms, weapons, everything.”
“It’s war, then?” Peter asked quietly. Mike just nodded slightly. Peter flipped the keys to Micky, who moved to the trunk and lifted the false bottom out of it. He reverently removed the box containing their uniforms and the bag with the weapons.
Kate watched mutely as they brought the equipment inside and silently shed their colorful clothing in favor of black.
Lucy’s eyes widened. “Best have a gun in there!”
“We got something better,” Micky said, pulling the two short hiltless blades out and handing them to Peter, who nodded and tucked them into the sash of the black outfit he now wore.
“That against bullets?” Lucy snorted. “You’re crazy!”
Mike tied the laces along his forearms. “We’re smarter than bullets, Lucy. If we can’t take Bart head on we’ll attack another way.”
Lucy opened her mouth again, but Kate’s hand on her shoulder stilled her. “You boys are going to get yourself and us killed,” she said in that deadly calm way Mike shared, the one that showed how pissed off she truly was.
Mike’s head snapped up, his temper under far less control than hers. “Fine! Then we’ll leave you and Lucy here to get killed! We’re not going to get a bunch of guns and get into a standoff! That’s not how we fight!”
She stepped forward. “You watch your tongue around me, boy.”
Mike lifted his chin. “I’m not a boy any more, Kate.”
“No, you’re not.” She walked forward and touched the staff, then jerked back as if it burned her. “You’re a man who thinks with his heart instead of his head.”
“That’s not exactly true, Mrs. Nesmith,” Peter said. “Mike’s been our leader for a while now, and he’s gotten us through some pretty tough situations. I don’t know what we’d do without him.”
“Let’s just hope we don’t find out when they return and fill him full’a lead,” Lucy growled.
Davy rolled his eyes. “Little Mary Sunshine, isn’t she?”
Mike looked at the clock. “We don’t have much time. Davy, Micky, you two get out to that big oak tree at the bottom of the drive. Climb up and wait for Bart’s men.”
They nodded and jogged out of the house. Peter looked after them fondly. “One of these days, I swear that dragon can fly.”
“I just wish he could breathe fire.”
“Keep feeding him Mexican,” he couldn’t resist teasing. Then he sobered. “How much time to we have?”
Mike looked at the clock. “An hour and a half.”
“What about them?” Peter asked, jerking his head toward the women.
“Yes, what about us?” Lucy growled.
“You two stay in here. Keep your guns ready. You’re the last line of defense.”
Lucy nodded. “Finally, something to do!”
Mike watched as Kate and Lucy took up positions at the windows. “Peter, you come out with me.”
Peter nodded and followed him without a word. A chill wind had picked up, scattering leaves and dust in the otherwise peaceful air. “I don’t like the feel of this,” he muttered.
“Me neither,” Mike said, taking a stand directly in front of the door. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens. Be ready for anything.”
Peter scanned the trees. “They’re in position . . . well, Micky is. How in the world can he get so high so fast?”
Mike smiled ever so slightly. “Especially seein’ as how you’re supposed to be the Monkey.”
Peter returned the slight smile. “Yeah, well . . . ”
“So where are they?” Mike murmured.
“Mick’s over there, Davy’s in that tree.”
“I meant Bart,” Mike said.
“Well,” Peter leaned on the railing and frowned down the road. “This is Texas . . . Old West land . . . maybe he’s tryin’ to rattle us for a showdown?”
“I won’t be rattled,” Mike snarled. “This is my home, and I’ll be damned to hell before I let it get railroaded by some two-timing slime-sucking . . . ” He trailed off.
“Well, damn.” Peter grinned at him. “And you had such a good head of steam built up too.”
“Ssh! You hear that?” Peter nodded, his face going grim.
“Here.” Mike handed him several darts and a few stars. “Go on to the side there, behind the tree. You’re my backup. I’ll face Bart.”
He nodded and cupped a hand to the back of the South Wind’s neck. “Watch yourself.” And he was gone.
Mike twirled his staff slowly, pacing the length of the porch. The riders approached slowly, purposefully. There were three that Mike was able to make out—two of them flanking the third, who was in the lead. As before, the riders were dressed in black as he now was, their faces masked.
The third stopped feet from the porch. “Nesmith.”
“Bart.” Mike’s words were short and forced.
“Have you thought about what I said?”
“Yeah, I have.”
“Good . . . then we should have no problems from you.”
“On the contrary. Here’s what I think about you, Bart.” Mike spat on the ground. “That’s all you’ll ever get from me.”
Bart’s face went stony. “Wrong choice, Nesmith. Boys . . . ”
Guns left their holsters and aimed at the porch.
Several loud clicks issued from within the house. “Don’t move, Bart. You’re covered by two rifles, and I have no idea how many steel barbed throwing stars.”
Bart laughed. “You think you can frighten me?”
“I’m counting on it.”
He shook his head. “So sorry to hear that. Boys, fire.”
Mike threw himself onto the porch floor as bullets whizzed overhead.
There was the glint of metal in the air for a second before one of the gunmen’s guns was knocked away with the clang of metal on metal.
Mike dodged to his feet long enough to leap out at the other flanking rider. He whirled in midair, his staff knocking the gun out of the man’s hand.
Bart himself wheeled his horse around and ducked over its neck, trying to find a way out of the melee.
Davy dropped from above, blocking his path. “Hold it right there!”
The horse, surprised, reared and came at the Tiger with his hooves. Davy reeled back, but not in time to avoid being struck by the wildly flailing hooves. Peter vaulted out of the tree and jerked Davy aside as Bart took off.
Micky shot to the ground and sent a volley of stars after him. Only one hit their mark, as Bart doubled over slightly in the saddle—they couldn’t tell where it had hit him.
“Damn!” Micky swore.
The frightened minions galloped after their leader, leaving their guns behind.
On to Chapter Five
Back to Chapter Three
Back to Secrets and Lies Index
