Hickok finished the soup, deliberately smacking his lips, pretending to ignore Maggot. “Not too bad. What was in it?”
“It was boiled rat,” Rat answered.
Hickok felt his stomach jump and he nearly regurgitated his meal.
“Do you still refuse to tell me where you are from?” Maggot asked insistently.
“I sure do, pard. But…” Hickok lanquidly stretched. “I might answer your questions if you’ll answer some of mine.”
“I’m a reasonable man,” Maggot announced. “What would you like to know?”
“About the Porns. Who are they? Where did they come from?”
“You’re not from the Twins,” Maggot stated, turning to the others.
“Didn’t I tell you?”
They all nodded.
“As far as your questions go,” Maggot continued, “I can’t answer all of them. There aren’t many books left in the Twins. Most have been burned during the cold weather. From what my parents told me, and what I’ve learned on my own, the Porns began as a group of people who stayed behind in the Twins after the war. They took over the west part of the Twins for themselves, and they have been fighting the Horns ever since. That’s the way things were until about seven years ago, when that damned Zahner started the Nomads. They took part of the Horns’ turf away from them, set up their own territory, and vastly complicated our life.”
Hickok was puzzled, still lacking the answers he needed to understand the situation in the Twins. “Why are the Porns and Horns always fighting each other?”
“It’s always been that way.”
“But why? You need to have a reason to fight.”
“You do?” Maggot grinned. “We don’t. We love to kill the Horns! Those bastards look down their noses at us, like we’re the scum of the earth! Them and their lousy God.”
“Their God?”
Maggot raised the barrel of the Henry and smacked it into his right palm. “Enough from me,” he said impatiently. “Now’s time for you to come up with some answers.”
Hickok nonchalantly placed his hand behind him and leaned back.
“Okay. Shoot.” He wondered how Maggot would react to what was coming.
“Where are you from?” Maggot asked.
“Somewhere else,” Hickok casually replied.
“I know that! Where?”
“Deadwood.”
“Deadwood?” Maggot repeated, frowning. “I never heard of it,” he added doubtfully.
“You’ve never heard of Deadwood?” Hickok asked in fake astonishment.
“No. Where is it?”
Hickok tried to estimate the extent of Maggot’s familiarity with geography and history. If the books were destroyed, Maggot’s knowledge would be extremely limited. Maggot would have no way of knowing Wild Bill Hickok was shot and killed in Deadwood.
“Deadwood is west of here a ways,” he answered.
“Really?” Maggot was naively buying the scam. “Who runs this Deadwood?”
“Two men.” Hickok suppressed a grin. “The Lone Ranger and his faithful companion, Tonto.”
“And why are you here?”
“We send people out from time to time,” Hickok explained. “Scouting, hunting, and the like.”
“Are you guys Watchers?” Maggot probed.
“Nope.”
“Do you know where the Watchers are from?” Maggot interrogated.
“Sure don’t,” Hickok replied. “They’re as much a mystery to us as they are to you.”
Maggot paused, mulling the information.
“Anything else you want to know?” Hickok asked helpfully.
“Did you come here alone?”
“Naw. My good pard came with me.”
“Who’s that?”
“You don’t know him. His name is Zane Grey.”
Maggot’s lower lip twitched. “Zane Grey? You don’t say.”
“You’ve heard of him?”
“As a matter of fact,” Maggot stated slowly, “I have.”
Hickok grinned. The fool! He was pretending to be knowledgeable to impress the others.
“I certainly have,” Maggot hissed. Without warning, he bent and rammed the barrel of the Henry into Hickok’s stomach.
Hickok doubled over, gasping for air, the soup gushing from his mouth and over the front of his buckskin shirt.
Maggot grabbed Hickok by the collar and jerked him to his feet. “You had me going, Hickok. I was falling for your shit until you mentioned Zane Grey.
You see, I told you that most of the books in the Twins have been used as fuel for our fires, but not all of them. I personally own a dozen. One of them is called The Day of the Beast, by a man named Zane Grey. Nice try, you son of a bitch!” He threw Hickok to the floor. “Take him to the pit!” he ordered. “We’ll fix his ass! Permanently!”
Chapter Fifteen
He stood framed in the tent opening, the sun revealing his brown hair and blue eyes, his white skin tanned brown, wearing black shorts and leather sandals, and carrying one of their three rifles. In this case, a Marlin 336C, a six-shot lever action. He could drop a deer at two hundred yards with one shot.
“Hello, Bertha,” he greeted her. He paused to tie the tent flap up, then entered.
Bertha tried to rise, but couldn’t. She was lying on a worn mattress and was covered with blankets. Her right side was bandaged.
“Don’t try to get up,” he told her. “You’ve lost too much blood.”
Bertha reached up and took his right hand in hers. “Z, it’s good to see you again!” She smiled, her affection genuine. “I missed you.”
Zahner sat down on the ground next to the mattress. “That’s nice to hear. I missed you too. Listen, do you feel up to talking right now? I told them to get me as soon as you woke up.”
“I can talk,” she said. “I’m hungry, though. Sure would like some food.”
“It’s on its way,” he assured her. Zahner pointed at her right side.
“Sorry about that. The boys just didn’t know if they could trust you or not.”
Bertha frowned, glancing at the bandage. “I sure am gettin’ the shit thumped out of me lately.”
“Really? Mind telling me about it?”
“How long have I been out?” she asked.
“About two days.”
“No!” She attempted to rise again, getting no further than her elbows before collapsing. “Damn!”
“What’s the rush to get back on your feet?” Zahner closely watched her features, searching for the slightest hint of deception and treachery.
“I need to get back,” she said, fuming over her debilitated condition.
“He needs me.”
“Who needs you?”
“Hickok. A friend of mine,” she said guardedly.
Zahner stared into her eyes. “I thought we were your friends. Bertha.”
“You are,” she declared. “You’re one of the best friends I’ve got.”
“Then you’ve got to understand my position,” Zahner said. “A lot of people count on me to make the right decisions, and I can’t let them down.
You know how it is, how it’s been. I got so sick and tired of all the fighting between the Horns and the Porns I couldn’t stand it anymore. You know I once was a Horn. You wouldn’t believe how regimented they’ve become, how they try to control every aspect of your life. So I thought I’d break away and form my own group. That’s how the Nomads were started. What amazed me was how many others wanted to join me once the word got out. Dozens and dozens from both sides. Any day now I half expect a Wack to waltz in and ask to join us.”
Bertha grinned. She knew all this, so what was he driving at? It was difficult to concentrate on Zahner. Her mind was filled with fear for Hickok’s safety and dread that he was dead.
“All these people relying on my judgment,” Zahner was saying, his voice low, troubled. “I can’t let them down. I thought forming my own group would solve all my problems, but it hasn’t. The fighting hasn’t stopped. It’s become worse. Now the Porns and the Horns raid us, and we raid them.