“This morning?” Blade repeated, scanning the meadow. “Then they must still be close by.” He had the oddest feeling that the three of them were being watched, but by whom was anyone’s guess.
“We’d be smart to take cover,” Hickok suggested.
“No. If we did, these people might get the wrong idea and think we’re here to harm them. We’ll stay out in the open and demonstrate they have nothing to be afraid of.”
“And what if they’re the ones who want to harm us?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
The gunman sighed. “Don’t take this personal, but you’re too trusting sometimes. Not everyone is as kind and decent as the folks at the Home.”
Suddenly, from the woods to the south, arose harsh, mocking laughter.
Chapter Three
Blade and his friends crouched and swung to the south, probing the trees for movement. After a minute Geronimo spoke.
“There’s no one there.”
“Go double-check,” Blade said.
The youthful Blackfoot glanced at the giant, then nodded. “Whatever you want.” He was up and off in a flash, weaving as he ran, the Winchester at the ready.
“Givin’ orders just comes naturally to you, doesn’t it?” Hickok asked.
“Don’t start,” Blade warned. “Someone has to check, and he’s more skilled at moving stealthily than the two of us combined.”
“Speak for yourself. Geronimo’s good, but he has a long way to go before he’s in the same class as Atilla.”
Blade said nothing, his eyes on the forest. Attila was the current head of the Warriors, an extremely popular, extremely deadly man whose mastery of the martial arts, marksmanship and combat tactics bordered on perfection. His partisans believed he was the best Warrior the Family ever produced, a sentiment Blade shared.
Geronimo had disappeared, melting into the foliage without disturbing a leaf.
“That hombre better be careful,” Hickok commented.
“Do I detect a note of concern?”
“Me worried about that no-account Injun? Don’t make me laugh.”
“Why don’t you just admit you love him like a brother?” Blade asked without taking his gaze from the woods.
“Sure I care about him. I care about you, too. But that doesn’t mean I’ll get all misty eyed if he gets himself killed. I just don’t want him to lose the rifle, is all.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Don’t you believe me?”
“In a word, no.”
Hickok made a hissing noise. “You’re gettin’ real sarcastic in your young age, you know that?”
“Think so?”
“I know so. You’re changing, Blade. You’re not the carefree kid you used to be.”
“Are any of us?” Blade responded. “And thanks.”
“For what?”
“For calling me Blade instead of Mikey. If you don’t stop, I’m liable to lose control and haul off and bust you in the chops.”
“Sarcastic and mean. I liked you better when your main interest in life was catchin’ crayfish.”
“We all have to grow up sooner or later. Back in the old days, before the Big Blast, some people went through their whole lives without acquiring an ounce of maturity. It’s not the same now. We don’t have that luxury.”
“You’ve been listening to Plato again, haven’t you?”
“What’s wrong with listening to the wisest philospher in our entire history? Even my dad looks up to him. Hearing Plato speak is like having the mysteries of the universe unraveled right before your eyes.”
“Oh, brother.”
Blade was about to elaborate when he saw Geronimo returning on the double.
“Find anything?”
“I didn’t see anyone,” Geronimo reported, “but I found a network of trails and a garden.”
“A what?” Hickok asked.
Geronimo looked at Blade. “Kindly remind that know-it-all that I’m not talking to him until he calls me by my name or the earth plunges into the sun. Whichever occurs first.”
Hickok glared. “Enough is enough, already. Come on, Geronimo, give me a break.”
In two swift strides Geronimo reached the gunman and gave his startled chum a bear hug, actually lifting Hickok off the ground. “You did it! You called me by my new name!”
“It slipped out,” Hickok exclaimed, flustered by the embrace. “Now put me down, you cow chip, before somebody sees us!”
Geronimo let go and beamed. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down. For a White Eyes, you’re not half bad.”
“Yeah, well, let’s not get all mushy about this. Show us the garden.”
Nodding happily, Geronimo led them down the road through a narrow tract of woodland to a cleared area where flowers grew in profusion, neatly arranged in trimmed rows. There were roses, columbines, geraniums, violets, marigolds and more.
Hickok shook his head in astonishment. “I never would’ve believed it if I hadn’t seen this with my own eyes.”
“There must be someone living in the castle,” Geronimo reiterated. “As far as I know, there aren’t any towns nearby.”
Blade thought of the laugh they’d heard and nodded. “Let’s go see.” He led them along the road, which wound past the garden, through yet another strip of forest, and angled directly at the castle.
The farther they went, the more obvious the damage became. The glass panes in those windows still intact were all cracked or splintered.
Inch-wide cracks marred those sections of the outer wall where the vines had yet to get a purchase. And two other turrets were missing portions of their sides.
“I don’t get it,” Hickok said as they crossed a narrow field toward the medieval edifice looming in front of them. “Why are the crops and the garden so well taken care of, but the castle hasn’t been fixed up in ages?”
Blade was wondering the same thing. He spied a wide wooden door at the base of the building. “We’ll ask the owner.”
When they arrived at the closed door, a raven perched on the battlements vented a strident cry and flapped into the sky.
“I’ll do the honors,” Geronimo offered, and knocked loudly. His blows seemed to echo within, then fade.
A minute elapsed, and no one acknowledged the pounding.
“Let me,” Hickok said, delivering several firm kicks to the bottom panel.
Again there was no response.
“Maybe no one is in,” Geronimo stated.
Blade grabbed a large black handle and tugged, but the portal refused to budge. “It’s locked.”
“Kick it in,” Hickok suggested.
“Be serious.”
“I am.”
“No,” Blade declared. “I told you we must make a good impression on these people, and we won’t if we barge into their home.”
“Then what do we do? Twiddle our thumbs until someone shows up?”
The giant bore to the right. “No, let’s have a look around.” He craned his neck to view the top of the castle as he walked slowly to the corner. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear the place was uninhabited. But how could that be when the garden and the crops indicated there were occupants?
Around the corner lay more of the same, more vines and a cleared space between the structure and the trees. The lowest windows were all a good 20 feet from the ground, too high to reach without a ladder.
“This dump is sort of spooky,” Hickok remarked.
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid?” Geronimo asked.
“No. I’m just bringin’ up a fact is all.”
Blade was halfway to the rear when he happened to glance at the grass near his feet. Lying within inches of his black combat boots was an apple core. “Look at this,” he said and squatted.
The others moved in for a better glimpse.