Mesmerized, she saw the man swing his legs around as he landed on top of the reptile. His left arm looped under the alligator’s thick neck as his right arm swept aloft. Clutched in his right hand was a gleaming knife.
Leo, about to swing the machete again, froze.
Ernestine couldn’t believe her own eyes! The giant was the biggest man she’d ever seen, at least seven feet in height, and his body rippled with layer upon layer of bulging muscle. His hair was dark, hanging above his gray eyes. She glimpsed his features in the fraction of a second before he went into action.
The giant’s right hand plunged downward, burying his large knife in the gator’s head between the eyes.
Ernestine saw the alligator respond in a fury, releasing her brother and swiveling its head toward the giant. It snapped at the man with the knife, unable to get a grip. The newcomer’s knife sank into the gator’s head again and again. With an enraged hiss, the reptile suddenly scrambled backwards into the pool, and no sooner was it in the water than the gator rolled, seeking to dislodge its foe.
The water became a wild whirlpool of thrashing forms, the reptile spinning over and over as the man hung onto its neck and repeatedly stabbed his knife into the gator’s head.
Ernestine was filled with awe at the white giant’s daring. But how could any man, even someone with his incredible physique, hope to kill a 12-foot gator with just a knife?
More pounding came from behind her. Two men raced to the edge of the pool and halted. One was a lanky man dressed in buckskins and moccasins. His hair and sweeping mustache were both blond. Around his slim waist were strapped a pair of pearl-handled revolvers. A camouflage backpack rested between his shoulder blades, and a rifle was slung over his left shoulder. He stood six feet tall, an easy head and shoulders above his smaller companion. The second man was dressed all in black, a glimmering sword held in his hands. His features were Oriental, his hair dark. Like the man in buckskins, the man in black had a backpack. An M-16 was slung over the Oriental’s right shoulder.
For a second or two Ernestine was distracted by the arrival of the two men. She glanced at the pool again to find the gator on its side, struggling feebly, as the giant continued to ram his knife into the beast.
The man in buckskins took a step into the pool, but the wiry man in black grabbed the blond’s left arm.
“It’s not necessary,” the man in black said. “The alligator is finished.”
“I reckon,” the one clad in buckskins responded uncertainly. His hands hovered near his pearl-handled revolvers.
The short man in black turned and studied Leo for a moment. He replaced his sword in a black scabbard slanted under his black belt above his left hip, then walked to Leo. “I’ll tend your injury,” he offered in a soft tone.
Leo appeared to be in a state of shock. He simply nodded, his mouth slack.
Ernestine slowly stood.
The alligator was limp, all except for the sluggish twitching of its tail. A punctured mess of flesh, spurting blood, was all that remained of the creature’s upper head.
Ernestine watched as the giant straightened, the water reaching above his waist. He stared at the gator, evidently insuring the reptile was no longer a threat. Satisfied, he looked at the man in buckskins and smiled.
“You’re lucky it was just a little one,” the man in buckskins quipped.
“You call this little?” the giant retorted, moving toward the bank.
Ernestine saw the alligator abruptly turn upright, its wicked maw swooping at the giant’s back. She went to yell a warning, but the man in the buckskins was faster. His hands were twin streaks as his revolvers cleared leather, and both guns boomed simultaneously.
The gator’s eyes exploded.
Perhaps sensing his danger, the giant had started to pivot to confront the reptile. He watched as the great body sagged and was partially submerged, then he headed for shore again. “Thanks,” he said to the blond man.
The gunman chuckled and twirled his revolvers into their holsters. “It was a piece of cake, pard.”
“For you maybe,” the giant said. “But try killing an alligator with a Bowie knife sometime. It isn’t easy.”
“It gave you an excuse to take your annual bath,” the gunman remarked. “Besides, you like doing things the hard way.”
The giant placed his Bowie knife in a sheath on his right hip.
Ernestine realized the giant was carrying an identical Bowie on his left hip, and for the first time she noted the two ammo belts crisscrossing his broad chest.
“Do you think that critter might have a hubby hereabouts?” the gunman asked as his enormous friend stepped onto the bank.
“Maybe,” the giant answered. He glanced at the carcass. “What makes you think that one was female?”
“Anything that contrary had to be,” the gunman joked.
“And you talk about me being lucky,” the giant muttered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re the lucky one,” the giant said. “If Sherry wasn’t such an understanding wife, she would have booted you out the door years ago.”
The gunman elected to change the topic. He faced Ernestine and smiled. “Howdy, ma’am. The handle is Hickok,” he disclosed, crossing to her and extending his right hand.
Ernestine gazed up into a pair of alert blue eyes. “Hello,” she responded, shaking.
“The Spirit smiled on you today,” Hickok remarked, nodding at her brother.
Leo was lying on his back, grimacing, his right forearm on his forehead.
The short man in black had deposited his backpack on the dirt and removed a brown leather pouch. Having lifted Leo’s shredded pant material to one side, he was administering a greenish powder to the deep lacerations.
The giant walked over to the man in black. “How is he, Rikki?”
The one called Rikki looked at the man with the Bowies. “I believe the leg is broken,” he replied. “He requires stitches in two of the gashes. The rest is not as serious.” He paused. “The herbs will prevent an infection, but the leg should be set and the wounds cleansed with hot water as soon as possible.”
“We could start a fire here,” the giant proposed.
“Our cabin!” Ernestine blurted. “Bring him to our cabin!”
“Is your cabin nearby?” the giant inquired.
“It’s five miles or so that way,” Ernestine said, pointing to the east.
“The cabin would be better,” Rikki mentioned.
“Then the cabin it is,” the giant stated. “I’ll carry the boy. Hickok, you bring the girl. Rikki, my gear.” He nodded at a point behind Ernestine.
She turned and discovered another camouflage backpack and an automatic rifle ten feet to her rear. The giant must have dropped them when he came to their rescue. She began to rotate toward the giant, and was startled when a strong arm encircled her waist and another scooped her up by the knees. “What?” she exclaimed.
“Don’t fret none,” Hickok advised, holding her close to his chest.
Ernestine could see the giant lifting Leo with extreme care. “Put me down! I can walk!”
“It will be quicker this way,” Hickok told her.
“I can walk!” Ernestine protested.
“You’ve just been through a nasty ordeal,” Hickok observed. “You rest and leave the runnin’ to us.” He jogged to the east, heading up the hill.
The giant was following with Leo.
Rikki was donning his backpack.
“But it’s five miles!” Ernestine emphasized.
“So?” Hickok responded.
“You can’t carry me five miles,” Ernestine assured him. “It’s too far.”
“This is nothin’. I once had to lug him,” Hickok said, indicating the giant with a jerk of his head. “It about near gave me a hernia.”