“You have no idea. Now let’s go and get your coward brothers for a little chat.”
“Tell your guys to drop their weapons. Rifles on the ground and magazines at my feet, and don’t forget to clear the chambers, boys. Pistols too. Pant legs up, each of you, and turn all the way around.”
“Do what he says!” the brother called out.
“Now, bend over real slow and pick up the magazines; you will be carrying them,” said Mike to his prisoner.
* * * *
Mike led the way, walking backward towards the other tents.
“Bring the other two,” called Mike to Stanley.
The other Gatelin brothers emerged from their tents, following their guards.
“Now, all weapons on the ground, magazines out, chambers cleared, including pistols!” shouted Mike. “Everyone, or he’s done,” he added, pushing the knife up against his neck, getting a scream out of his man.
“Here he is,” called out Dave, leading the oldest brother around the tent’s side.
“Back from the dead!” said Mike, getting a shocked look from his brothers.
“Round up your guys. You have five minutes.”
Mike knew the odds were against him if he waited too long. Just like going to Atlantic City back in the day, he thought. If you win right away, you’d be smart to leave because the longer you stay, the odds go up every minute that you will go home with nothing. However, this time going home with nothing was the only goal.
He asked the small group a series of cop-type questions, just trying to kill time. He was surprised nobody made a move. Yes, their weapons were on the ground, but if only a few of them had the guts, they could get the tables turned quickly.
“What do you want?” asked the man whose neck was pressed to Mike’s blade. What will it take for you to go back to your little group and hit the road?”
“What are you offering?” asked Mike. “And understand, this is a negotiation,” he added, just hoping to buy more time but always interested in what a man would offer in trade for his very life.
“Okay, that’s fair. I’ll start then,” said the brother, feeling a little cocky in his position. “You drop the knife, and we call this whole thing a draw. Maybe you get ruffed up just a bit, like a lesson to others, but you walk home and are gone by morning, to live another day.”
“That sounds interesting,” replied Mike, seeming to mull it over. “When you say roughed up, you just mean a few bumps and bruises, with no broken bones, right?”
“I think we can make that happen, and I’ll even throw in one of the ladies up for auction. Take your pick…as long as we have a deal, of course.”
“One of the ladies, you say? How many do you have to choose from?” Mike continued.
“Enough.”
“Are you a fighter?” asked Mike. “I mean, do you like it?”
“This is not about me, so it really doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does matter,” yelled the youngest brother, returning with fourteen men. “He’s never been in a fight in his whole life.”
“Really, never?” replied Mike. “What about your other two brothers?”
“Only three between both of them, and they lost two.”
“Is that so?” replied Mike, motioning for him and his men to retrieve the rifles and magazines.
“These are the men?” asked Mike. “The ones you trust with your life?”
“Yes, this is the crew.”
“All right, cowboy, it’s your show now,” said Mike, releasing his captive and shoving him to the ground. “I believe your brothers offered to rough me up just a bit before I leave. Do you think we could get the torches lit one last time tonight?”
“Now wait a minute! I wasn’t talking about that, and it’s not fair! You like to fight, I can tell. It wouldn’t be a fair fight.”
“Three on one isn’t fair?” asked Mike. He was itching for a fight, like a dog might do trying to get the one spot he couldn’t reach. “I didn’t get to fight earlier, so what do you boys say?”
“The three of us against just you?” asked another brother.
“That’s what I said,” replied Mike.
“What do we get when we win?”
“If you win, you get to stay alive and leave this place tonight.”
“I don’t want any part of this,” said the third brother, who had been silent until now. “We’ll just leave.”
“Let’s take a vote on it,” replied Mike.
“Okay,” said the oldest brother. “All those in favor of us goin...”
“No, you don’t get to vote, and neither do I,” interjected Mike. “The women get the final say. Where are they?”
* * * *
“I’ll take you to them,” said one of the ladies who had remained silent thus far. They all walked to the other side of the camp, with Mike behind the brothers and the new security detail behind him.
She unzipped the front flap as the group moved towards the back, shielding their faces.
“It’s okay,” the woman said. “I have someone who wants to talk to you… Just talk, and that’s all. Right, mister?”
“That’s right,” said Mike, holding his hands in front of him like he would carry a large bowl.
“You’re okay, and I’m not here to hurt you. You have a choice. You can see the three of four Gatelin brothers leave tonight unharmed or see them fight in the pit like some of your husbands or boyfriends have done. What say you?”
It was quiet for a while, maybe a minute or two, with only one saying to leave. Nobody else spoke.
“They are all in custody,” Mike added, pulling one into the tent for only a second, getting a gasp from the women as they shirked farther back into the tent.
“They can’t hurt you anymore. So, what’s it going to be, ladies? Leave or fight in the pit?”
“Leave,” shouted one, with another yelling, “In the pit for those bastards!”
There were maybe fourteen or fifteen, by Mike’s calculations, and he knew some had their men with full bellies tonight scattered across the lake. The chant started slow and built to a roaring thunder:
