Devil's Kiss

Chester shook his head. 'I'll pass on that. They're wearing medallions around their necks. Guess that settles it.'

Five seconds later, there were five empty saddles.

The men walked down the hill to the still-writhing men. Sam pointed the muzzle of the M-1 at a cowboy's head.

'Give me a break!' the man begged.

'Sure,' Sam said. 'Just like you would have given me a break.'

'Fuck you!' the cowboy snarled, spitting at Sam. The foamy red spittle hit Sam on the leg of his jeans.

Sam squeezed the trigger, then went to the next man, with Chester following suit. Watching from the ridge, Wade shuddered, 'I wouldn't want either of them for an enemy.''

Back in camp, Sam said, 'Let's pack it up and move it. Ches, you said you knew where there was some dynamite.'

'Right, and some gasoline while we're there . Over on the Cherry Creek range. They've been doing some blasting. Ever handled dynamite, Sam?'

''No. In Korea we used plastic. Easy to handle.'

'So's dynamite. Before I bought the shop, I worked with explosives.'

'Where is the blockhouse?'

'Right on the edge of the range. But for sure it'll be well guarded.'

Sam nodded absently, spreading a map on the hood of a truck. 'Wade, you take the people here,' he pointed to a mark on the map, then glanced at his watch. 'Ches and I will get the dynamite and fill up the extra gas cans and meet you there at noon.' He looked hard at the editor, 'Don't take any chances, Wade. Shoot first and ask questions later.'

Wade swallowed, then nodded his agreement, 'All right, Sam.'

The minister glared at his friend. 'I mean it. I'm not going to dick around with you or anybody else. Jane Ann's safety is in your hands. Can you do it?'

'Yes!' Wade replied hotly.

'You'd better,' the warrior-turned-minister turned warrior said.

'Let's ask God's help,' Faye said, breaking the silent tension between the two friends. 'Let's all join hands.'

It was a strange sight on the prairie, in the rolling hills of Fork County. These people praying within sight of five men they had just killed. Chester prayed, asking God to help them, to give them strength to combat the evil that surrounded them, that faced them all.

The circle broke up, the Christians walking back to their trucks. Sam stopped Wade. 'Any route you take is going to be dangerous, Wade, it's up to you. But I believe moving is the only way we're going to stay alive.'

'I know, Sam,' he clasped the minister on the shoulder. 'And don't worry, I'll do my part. I don't believe we have a choice any longer. I'll shoot first, apologize later. I'm going to cut across Sugar Ridge and down into Winding Creek, follow the creek bed. It's dry this time of year.'

The men shook hands, wishing each other luck. Chester spent a few moments with Faye; Sam with Jane Ann.

'I'm not usually the weeping type, Sam,' she said, her lips just brushing his. 'So I'll see you in camp in a few hours.'

Sam smiled. 'Behave yourself around Tony—he's a good-looking young stud. Makes a lot more money than a preacher.'

'You have hidden talents, Sam,' she winked at him.

He touched her face with his strong, blunt fingers, then left her, walking to Chester's pickup, stopping along the way to get his Thompson and a length of wire with small pieces of wood attached to either end.

'What is that thing, Sam?' Miles asked.

'It's a garrote, Miles. We used them in Korea.'

'Silent killing.'

'Very. But you have to know how to use them. If you come around too hard, the victim is decapitated, then you've got a headless body flopping around on the ground, making noises with his feet. Destroys the silent operation.'

Miles' face was a little pale. 'That ever happen to you, Sam?'

'Only once. It was quite a sight to see.'

The prairie was silent after Wade led the little caravan off, with only the wind to keep the two men company.

'Sam? When we've got the dynamite, what are we going to do with it?'

The minister's eyes grew cold as a snake's gaze. 'We're going to destroy Whitfield and the outlying ranches. Hopefully, we're going to kill every Godless bastard in this part of Fork.'

Chester chuckled. 'Preacher, your language is shocking.

It was the longest half hour Chester had spent since combat in the Pacific. He thought Sam would never return from the blockhouse. His nerves began working on him, causing him to jump with every sound of nature. A songbird twittered happily above him and Chester almost blew it into the next county, holding back firing the .45 caliber Greasegun just at the last second.

The next county, he thought, is where I wish we all were right now.

He thought of Sam. The man has more cold nerve than any man I've ever seen. Miles was right: he is looking forward to this fight.

He almost soiled his shorts when Sam touched him on the shoulder. He leaped to his feet, heart pounding. 'JESUS CHRIST!'

'Every direction is your perimeter when you're alone, Ches,' Sam gently scolded him. 'You're forgetting your good Marine Corps training. I came up behind you.'

'No shit! Now you tell me! My heart is hammering.' He looked in the direction of the blockhouse. 'How many men are there?'

'None, now.'

'How many were there?'

'Two. They were easy. Come on.'

The sight of the dead men did not bother Chester; he had seen much, much worse in the brutal fighting in the Pacific. But if ten days ago, if someone had told him his minister would slip past armed guards and slit their throats, Chester would have called him a liar. The guards lay sprawled in death. One had been strangled with the garrote, the other had his throat cut.

Chester broke the lock on the blockhouse with a tire iron from his pickup's toolbox. It was dark and cool in the shed. 'Get those boxes of caps over there,' he told Sam. 'Be careful with them.' He looked around. 'There's enough dynamite in here to blow up half of Fork County. This is good grade stuff, too.'

'Did you see those medallions on the guards?'

Chester nodded, carrying a box of dynamite to his truck.

'We have to assume everyone at Cherry Creek ranch is one of them. We'll take them out first. Then work around the county, ranch by ranch.'

'Saving Whitfield for last?'

'Exactly,' Sam put another box of caps in the back of the truck. He sat them down roughly.

Chester winced. 'Sam! Please be careful. The caps are more dangerous than the dynamite. I've seen them blow when you least expect it.'

'Sorry,' Sam grinned. 'I wasn't thinking.'

'How do we take the ranch, Sam?'

'By surprise. Just like Cowboys and Indians. Let's fill the gas cans and we'll drop them off, pick them up on the way back. I'll tell you along the way.'

'You mean, just the two of us?'

'That's all we need, old friend. Providing everything goes as planned, that is.'