Just as Gowdy opened the mausoleum door wide, Dunne heard Quincy screaming in pain.
Gowdy and Hannahlee hurried out, and Dunne followed. Looking in the direction of the screams, Dunne saw Quincy twenty yards away, holding his face while War kicked him in the back.
Dunne also saw that the danger he'd feared was real. He suddenly wished he'd stayed in the cave.
Jeremiah Weed and a dozen men and brides stood on either side of the door, guns at the ready. Dunne and his parents were facing a firing squad.
Luckily, the squad was looking the other way at the moment, toward Quincy and War. If not for Quincy's screams, Dunne realized, the troops would have been watching the mausoleum...and Gowdy, Hannahlee, and Dunne would have been dead the instant the door opened wide.
Unfortunately, the reprieve didn't last. The nearest of the Rainbow Brides—the blonde who'd captured Dunne with a switchblade back at Posse Ranch—turned and spotted them.
She didn't bother to raise the alarm. Long hair flying, she swung around a pistol in one smooth, practiced movement.
And squeezed off a round in Dunne's direction.
Dunne froze. He just stood there, eyes and mouth gaping, as the bullet burned through the air...
And missed him.
Before the blonde could try again, Dunne heard the crack of a gunshot, and an impact struck her chest. Looking toward the sound of the shot, he saw Hannahlee poised in a firing stance, smoke wisping from the barrel of her pistol.
The blonde dropped her gun and spun to the ground with a loud cry. The other brides and gunmen turned at the sound.
Turned toward Gowdy, Hannahlee, and Dunne.
But Gowdy and Hannahlee were already in motion. Seven shots were fired in the next thirty seconds...every one of them from Gowdy and Hannahlee's guns.
Five of the shots found their marks. Three gunmen and two brides on the firing line went down in short order. The rest of the troops scattered in the confusion, breaking ranks and diving behind headstones.
Only Weed maintained any semblance of calm. He stood at the far end of the line, looking over the situation as bullets flashed past him. Then, he strolled to an obelisk and casually took cover behind it.
Gowdy headed for cover, too, ducking behind the mausoleum's marble door. Hannahlee followed, calling to Dunne to come with her.
When shots flew between them, however, Dunne panicked and went the other way. He ended up hiding behind the big stone crucifix in the middle of the cemetery, thirty yards from Gowdy and Hannahlee.
As the shooting continued behind him, Dunne felt sick in the stomach. He was alone in a firefight, cut off from the only people who could protect him—and he was scared to use the guns he'd been given. The odds did not look encouraging.
Not to mention the maniac with the bomb around his waist. The maniac who was kicking Quincy's ass.
Warpath Journal
Dateline: New Justice, New Mexico
As I pound on Brother Quincy, I can't stop thinking about Amish Amos. This pisses me off even more, which makes me hurt Quincy even more. After all, he's the one who brought it up.
Quincy says I'm not War Willow, because War Willow had nothing to do with the Amish. This goes against everything I remember, everything I know about myself. It's just Poison Oak doubletalk meant to throw me off my game.
And yet I can't get it out of my head. No matter how many times I lay out the facts and kill the idea, it keeps coming back.
No matter how hard I hit Quincy.
I torture him again, just blasting him without mercy in the face and gut. He's still standing through some kind of dumb animal defiance, but he shouldn't be.
For good measure, I apply some Sendodansu'dinegaan, spinning in a circle around him, lashing him with a pinwheel of blistering blows and kicks. Like the thoughts of Amish Amos in my mind, he's still standing at the end of it.
At this point, I actually feel sorry for him. He's bruised, he's bloody, he's beaten—I know he's got broken bones—and I keep making it worse. As gratifying as it is to see a Poison Oak suffer after what the Oaks did to my family, I start to think maybe I'm getting carried away. Maybe it's time to put him down and be done with it.
Just as I think that, Quincy comes alive again. He suddenly bolts forward, catching me around the waist. With no apparent concern for the explosives strapped to my body, he tackles me to the ground. He takes me down hard enough that I'm surprised the bomb doesn't blow from the impact.
I can hardly believe it. I didn't think he had an ounce of fight left in him—but here it is. And it's more than I could have imagined.
Quincy swats me hard across the face, making my head spin. I'm only disoriented for a few seconds, but it's long enough for him to straddle my chest. Next thing I know, he has me pinned—weight crushing my torso, knees planted on my arms.
All I can move is my legs, and I can't bring them up far enough to kick him.
So I'm trapped. All that beating, and he has me down.
Which completely blows my mind.
He cracks his knuckles in my face and talks through swollen lips. "Before we do this...let's get one thing straight."
"What's that?" The bomb jams into my stomach underneath him. I wonder if the pressure will set it off before I can fight my way free.
"War Willow never spent any time with the Amish." Quincy reaches up to wipe blood from his eyes. "War Willow never had an Amish mentor or any kind of Amish training.
"It doesn't even make sense to say he did, because the Amish don't have any training. Not involving martial arts or weapons or anything War Willow would be interested in.
"In other words, you're not War Willow. Will you get that through your fucking head?"
Gunfire continues to crackle across the cemetery, a backdrop to our showdown. I am determined not to let this Poison Oak monster break me.
And yet...
As he wraps his hands around my throat and squeezes, I feel myself begin to drift. The gunfire fades. So does the sight of Quincy's face as he chokes me.
Another face comes into view. Another time.
Something falls away, like a wall or a curtain, and I see him...really see him for the first time in forever.
And I remember.
Finally, I remember the true story of Amish Amos.