"You die." The Indian grinned as the flame crept along the sparking, smoking fuse. "You all die." He scowled for a moment as if trying to think of something else to say. Then he shrugged. "You die!"
"Not if I can help it." MacQuaid grabbed for his derringer, but the Indian tossed the dynamite at him, and he yelped as he caught the stick before it hit the floor. Extinguishing the flame between his fingers, he gasped, "There now."
Then he looked up.
The Indian had lit another stick, grinning broadly. "You all die!"
MacQuaid stared, frozen in place. Clarence and Kate stood beside each other as if in a daze, their eyes fixed on the flaming stick. Silas crowed and laughed wildly in the back of the room while Buck sniffed and wiped the blood off his face from his recent brawl. He glanced up at the native and cursed him foully.
"You die! You die!"
The Indian was delighted, his interior monologue going something like this: Yes, I will kill these palefaces. They will explode in a giant ball of fire that will light up the night. Father and the others will see it, and I will be honored. Oh, such glory I will receive.
"You DIE!" Excited now, he lit all four of the remaining sticks and gripped them in both hands. "You die! You die!"
Then his face froze as he realized something. He was the one holding the fire sticks. They were burning in his hands. When they exploded—
"Me die?" His one eye grew round like a saucer. "AAAIIEEE!!" With that sudden shriek, he threw the dynamite at the palefaces and whirled around. "Me go!"
He dashed away.
Like a circus act, the palefaces lunged to catch each flaming stick.
"Quick—stamp 'em out! I'll get him." MacQuaid charged after the Indian.
As fast as they could, Clarence, Kate, and Buck stomped the burning fuses into the floor, leaving black burn marks on the floorboards.
"There," Clarence sighed with relief once each fuse had been put out. Feeling a bit faint, he grabbed for a chair. "Well, I do believe..."
The room spun wildly for a moment before he collapsed to the floor, instantly unconscious.
Broken Eye's frenzied flight was as silent as an owl's as he dropped into the cellar where Buck had been hog-tied and tore through the dark underground tunnel. From there, it was only a matter of running stooped-over until he reached the steps into the barn. His pursuer, however, made more noise than a raging bull. The Zuni prince did not glance over his shoulder to see the paleface close in on him; he could feel him, only an arm's length away. It would not be long until the white man overtook him.
"Damn you!" MacQuaid growled, his strong fingers locking onto the fleeing Indian's ankle.
Broken Eye felt his leg tugged out from under him, and he fell hard. But he was down for no more than a split-second. With a powerful kick, he drove his heel into the white man's face and wrenched his ankle free. MacQuaid howled, stunned and blinded for a moment as blood flowed freely from his broken nose.
The Indian jumped to his feet and dashed straight for the barn's open doors. But the gunslinger was not one to give up. With another yell, he lunged forward and grabbed the Indian's ankle, downing him again. The Indian hit the ground, writhing and kicking.
MacQuaid dodged the heel that struck out at his face. In a sudden, cat-like move, he let the ankle go and dove onto the Indian's back. Fists flew as they rolled over and over, grappling against one another across the straw-covered ground. MacQuaid struggled with all his might against the unbelievable strength of the hard-muscled native.
Broken Eye pummeled him mercilessly, confident this paleface would never see the light of morning. Even so, neither one gained any ground on his opponent, and both knew this would be a desperate fight to the finish.
Clarence moaned as he groggily came to. Everything in the room was just as he'd left it. Buck remained at the window, looking out, Winchester in hand. Silas slouched in a corner, dozing on and off with a sling cradling his dislocated arm. Kate sat at the old man's side. Only the gunslinger was missing.
"Wh-where's that MacQuaid fellow?" Clarence stood, rubbing his head.
Kate smiled up at him. "Decided to join us, eh?"
He groaned. "What happened?"
"I think you fainted."
He winced. "I seem to be doing a lot of that lately."
"MacQuaid lit out after the Indian," Kate explained. "Ain't back yet."
Clarence frowned. Where had they gone? He remembered the native charging into the washroom where Kate had found Buckeye Daniels in the cellar. Was there some sort of secret underground passage down there as well? Where did it lead? Could they use it to escape to freedom? Or should they seal it shut to keep other natives from entering that way?
"Hope that Injun tears his eyes out," Buck muttered with a curse.
"Eh, whose eyes?" Silas chirped, waking for a moment.
Buck cursed again.
"Hey now, boy. Watch your language—we've got ourselves a lady present!" Silas scolded.
Kate looked at him with concern. "How's your arm, Silas?"
He chuckled. "Loose!"
"He needs a doctor," she told Clarence quietly. "I fixed 'im up best I could, but it's bad."
Clarence nodded. He could tell that she cared for the old fellow. "I don't believe you can do any more than your best, Kate. For now, it must suffice—until these natives leave us alone."
She met his gaze and nodded. Then, with a heaviness to her shoulders, she joined him at the window.
"How long have they been dancing?" Clarence asked her.
"Maybe an hour or so."
"Damned fools don't never get tired!" Buck added.
"How soon until daylight?"
Buck squinted his eyes as he stared outside. "A few hours now. No tellin' what they'll try before daybreak."
Clarence sighed and shook his head. "This has been the longest night of my life."