“You got to know when to keep your hand in your pocket.” Captain Sam Barker.

The wind blew briskly from the south, rustling the high grass on the hilly plain. Evening had come again. Sam led them east, away from the mountains. He had pushed them hard in hopes of reaching North Breed by the evening of the following day. The sky was clear and the twins were rising, but the sun was almost down, and the younger men were whining to stop for the night.

Besh wriggled out of his backpack and hung it from the saddle horn. It thumped a bit from the horse’s plodding gate, but his back felt much relieved. He stretched then moved his horse near the Captain. Sam was silently scanning the thick trees ahead.

“Tell me again why we’re headed east instead of north,” Besh prompted in a casual tone.

“The ravine,” answered Sam stoically. “One. It’s closed in with no way out. Two. The rope bridge wouldn’t support the bulk of a horse. Too unstable. Willy suggested going around.”

They passed by small hills. Against the deepening sky, Besh could see a large bare tree. It stood sentinel on the tallest hill while early moonlight discovered meager leaves dancing on the wind. Sam raised his arm and pointed at the tree.

“The ravine and the bridge are just past that tree,” said Sam.

“So the plan,” prompted Besh, “is to camp in the trees.”

Besh looked above the tree line ahead. Briefly distracted as the young men rode forward to get a look, Besh finally spotted a dark shape above the trees. It seemed at first to grow in size, then Besh realized it was moving toward them. Sam had that look on his face. His handgun was out and ready. Suddenly a spotlight blinded them and spooked the horses. The loud discharge of an energy bolt hit the ground just in front of them. Besh was thrown painfully from his horse.

Another bolt thundered nearby. Besh rolled to his knees and rubbed his eyes. Two things were immediately evident to his returning vision. His horse was galloping west with his backpack, and Sam, like Don Quixote with his windmill, galloped after the dark craft, bellowing rage, and taking shots. The craft circled searching with its bright light. Another bolt struck the ground. Besh could see the tall grass burning, southerly winds exciting the flame.

Besh called in alarm, “Raul. Beasley.”

The frightened young men ran to him, helped him to his feet. Besh noted the flames were circling around them. Horseless, Sam ran to them and took charge. “Run,” he shouted.

Sam ran toward the dead tree on the hill. The dark craft burst up from behind it a moment later. The lights found them and a blast of energy hit the earth behind them. Sam never wavered, All Besh and the boys could do was follow. It seemed all the shots had gone wide, and Besh thought they were toying with them as if they wished to trap them in the flames. Besh was tasked just to keep up with his friends.

Raul crested the hill ahead of the others, Sam followed hard behind. Beasley, mere paces before Besh, stumbled, righted, and continued. Breathing heavily, Besh came over the hill to see a man hacking at the rope bridge with a machete. Sam shot him as he ran forward. The absence of the craft was less a mystery than an opportunity. Besh reached the bridge as the others were feeling their way along one rope. The other side of the bridge dangled perilously. 

It was one of those moments between heartbeats where time nearly stands still. Beasley lurched over the side, Raul reached out his hand, Sam tumbled from the spent bridge into the ravine below. At the loose end of the bridge, Besh blinked and the bridge broke free. He tightly with both hands as the bridge swung down and across. When he hit the wall of the ravine, the wind was knocked from him. He lost his grip.

He swallowed adrenaline and rolled to his feet. The drop had not been far. He looked up and saw that the boys were still hanging on the bridge.

It was neither a shout nor a whisper, but it was the best he could do. “Climb down,” he said with all the force of his fear. “Before they come back.”

The bright light swept along the ravine floor, then it paused briefly before turning and speeding north. Besh, Beasley, and Raul crawled from the shadow of a jagged rock ridge. Besh straightened and looked around, ran to an inert body, but it was not Sam. It was the black-clad Badger Sam had shot. Besh searched the corpse quickly and walked away with a pig blaster.

Beasley forced his loudest whisper. “Over here.”

After his fall, Sam had crawled to the wall and leaned against it. He was unconscious, but Besh felt a pulse and relieved the younger men with the news. Light from the rising twins was enough the search for wounds. Besh found none. He sat beside the sleeping Captain to catch his breath.

“What happened,” asked Raul stunned?

Besh looked up to the ridge that glowed from the burning grass and sighed. “I don’t know,” He said. He hazarded a guess. “Pirates, maybe. They’re definitely working with the Badgers. Raul, can you and Crispin search around the dead body. Try to find the machete he was using.”

As Raul and Beasley walked away, Besh lowered his face and shook his head, his thoughts with the Captain. His fervent hope was that he had suffered no internal injuries. He looked at the two moons. The larger, more distant moon was a dull orange. The smaller brighter moon was a pale yellow. What now, he asked himself?

The young men walked back to Besh. Raul was testing his dexterity with the machete. Besh struggled to his feet and called the men in close. Something had to be done, and it was up to Besh. There was no way any of them could scale the walls of the ravine. He knew what they needed, but was averse to giving away his secret.

As the young men leaned in close, Besh spoke to them in a voice barely more than a whisper. “I want you two to sit by the Captain. Call me if there is a change. I’ll be at the far end,” he pointed to a large fallen rock, “taking care of some personal business.”

Once behind the large rock, Besh removed his small shoulder bag and knelt in the dirt. He removed one side of the strap and pulled the top wide. He found the red patch on the bottom of the bag, and the yellow patch on the left. Between fingers and thumbs, Besh massaged the patches in a circular motion, clockwise for the red and counter-clockwise for the yellow. Looking quickly over his shoulder, he reached into the bag. He found the spot he wanted but it was deeper than he remembered. His arm was in past the elbow. He reached further and touched the object he was after.

The young men could not believe their eyes as Besh walked back with a rope coiled over his shoulder. It was heavy and Besh was happy to drop it at their feet. “Look what I found,” said Besh with a heavy sigh and a broad smile.

Dumbfounded, Beasley asked, “You found a rope? Down here?”

Besh fibbed, “It was half-buried in the dirt.”

Raul said, “I hope you didn’t get no pee on it.”

Besh said, “This is where you two get to save the day. If you can lasso one of the bridge posts, we can climb out.”

Beasley reached down and pulled up one end of the rope. “I took a class once. How to tie knots.”

“Do your best,” said Besh. “I’ll check the Captain.”

Sam snored softly. Besh checked his pulse but knew nothing more than it was there. He seated himself by Sam and watched the young men. Raul stood by the wall in the shadow of the passing moons. He directed as Beasley attempted to lasso a post. He missed and tried again. Raul moved him a step to the right. Beasley failed again. He gathered the rope and took a breath.

Raul called, “C’mon, man. It’s right there.”

“I’m trying,” said Beasley. “It’s a heavy rope.” He gauged the distance and imagined the post only Raul could see. He steadied the rope and tested his balance. The rope sailed up and missed, falling back into the ravine. 

Besh yawned. The young men traded places. The lasso continued to fall back into the ravine. “You’re doing good,” cheered Besh. “Next time for sure.”

“Ah, man,” Raul complained as the lasso fell back. “This is impossible. I can’t see the post from here.”

“Where am I,” asked Sam, startling his companions?

Besh was up without thinking. “How do you feel,” he asked?

Sam replied, shaking the grogginess from his head, “I'ma pop that pirate right between his beady little eyes.”

“That’s the Captain,” said Raul with a smile.

Beasley said, “Welcome back Captain.”

Sam turned to Besh. “How long I been out,” he asked?

“Nearly an hour. We were worried,” answered Besh.

“So then,” said Sam, struggling to his feet with the help of Besh and Raul, “what did I miss?”

Raul laughed. “Besh found a rope. We’ve been trying to lasso the bridge post. You know? Climb out.”

“Give it to me,” said Sam.

“Are you sure,” asked Besh?

“I’m fine,” answered Sam taking the rope. “I’ve got this.”

Sam coiled the rope in his right hand and walked into the shadows. He spied the top of the post and walked back. He shook out the lasso and tossed it up. The rope fell over the post. Sam pulled it tight. “Come on,” he prompted.

Raul complained, “Man! First time.”

Sam sent the young men up first. He followed and the three of them assisted Besh to the top. Sam coiled the rope in a manner that allowed him to carry it on both shoulders. He got no arguments from Beasley or Raul. Their course was set immediately north. Sam jogged. Besh kept up without complaint. Woods were visible just north of the ravine. The moons were well past, but there was just enough light to glint from the resting pirate ship. When they got close, Sam called them into hiding behind a grassy mound.

“It’s small,” said Sam of the craft. “Not room for many. You three wait here. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“You’d better take this,” Said Besh. He handed the pig blaster to the Captain and received a curt nod before Sam slipped away into the night.

Raul whispered to Beasley, “Looks like we got a ride.”

Besh peered through the unkempt grass that grew on the mound. Without direct moonlight, it was hard to see. The small ship was just slightly blacker than the night. Besh looked above the craft in hopes of seeing it more clearly. The young men joined him, on either side.

“What’s happening,” Beasley asked, impatient?

“I don’t see nothing,” answered Raul.

“Patience,” chided Besh. “Trust the Captain.”

Raul said. “I just wanna get off this island.”

Beasley whispered, “Anywhere we go is just another island.”

Raul leaned back to look around Besh and stab Beasley with an irritable glance. “Pendejo,” he whispered. “The meter is empty and I got no coin. Time to move on.”

Besh grew weary and silenced the young men. “Shh! Listen.”

Then, Besh spied a light in the ship. First, it was there. Then, it was not. Then, it was there again. Perhaps, he thought, what he saw was the door of the craft opening and closing. The flash could have been gunfire. The door briefly darkened once more.

Beasley whispered around Besh, “What’s a pendejo?”

Raul answered, “That would be you.”

Beasley pressed, “No. I mean, what does it mean?”

“Well, according to the dictionary,” Raul whispered, “ a pendejo is anything particularly Beasley or Crispin.”

“Oh, ha-ha.” grumped Beasley.

“Boys,” said Besh. “I am between you. Please!”

Just as Beasley and Raul fell silent, Besh heard a whistle. Another followed. It was time to move. They met the Captain by the black ship. He wiped blood from his hands.

“Alright,” enthused Raul.

“Well,” said Sam, dropping the soiled rag from his hand, “don’t just stand there. Let’s go.”

Sam sat in the pilot seat and tapped on the consoles. Bright lights flooded the cabin. He tapped again to dim the overheads. Besh watched from behind.

“Sit over there,” said Sam to Besh.

Besh settled into the padded co-pilot seat and commented, “I take it you are familiar with pirate ships.”

The Captain voiced a quiet list. “Door closed, flaps operational, fuel – fuel,” he tapped the gauge with a fingernail. “One of the fuel cells is low. I must have got off a good shot. Still. Yes, Besh. I know my way around a pirate ship. I used to run with them. You boys, strap in back there.”

Besh asked, “Where are we headed?”

“Back to the palace,” said Sam, anger in his voice. “I’m done with this merry-go-round.”

“A favor,” pleaded Besh.

“What?”

“Can you take us back to the lodge,” asked Besh? “I’m worried about Willy.”

“You want to check up on the man who sold us out?” Incredulity was plain in the Captain's voice.

Besh replied, “We don’t know he sold us out. The pirates may have tortured him.”

Raul said from the cockpit door, “Bamboo under the fingernails.”

Sam snapped, “Strap in, crewman.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Sure,” said the Captain to Besh. “Why not?”

Sam raised the ship and turned it south. A moment later, the craft settled to the ground in front of the lodge. The door opened and Besh walked down the short ramp. The front door of the lodge was ajar. Raul and Beasley followed Besh into the lodge. Overturned furniture suggested a struggle had ensued. Besh navigated debris and entered the kitchen. There was Willy on the floor. Besh stooped and assessed the grizzly wounds. The flesh was cold.

“Oh, man,” said Raul!

Sam entered the kitchen and casually remarked, “Guess you were right.” He turned and walked back out calling over his shoulder, “The horses are in the corral.”

Besh retrieved his backpack from the saddle horn, surprised it had not fallen off. Beasley contacted Lilly to make arrangements for Willy and the horses. Sam crawled under the ship to attempt a patch with Raul running tools and supplies. Within the hour, they were in the air headed roughly west. Besh spoke from the co-pilot seat.

“We were really close to finding the Prince,” said Besh.

“Don’t rub it in,” was the Captain’s sour answer.

“I hate to say it,” said Besh with a sigh, “but, it looks like the Prince is working for the other side.”

“I’ma kick his royal ass when I find him,” answered Sam.

Besh asked, “Where could they be going with fifty horses?”

Sam scratched in his beard thoughtfully and answered, “If they’re waging their little rebellion on horseback, they’re not very smart. On the other hand, a horse is pretty good with the right kind of sauce.”

Besh continued, “Travel by horseback would be more covert. They could run under the radar, so to speak. They have to have a base somewhere.”

“Yeah, but where,” called Raul from the back?

Sam checked the panel of lights before him, his only emotion a resigned sigh. “We need help,” he said.

“I was told,”  said Besh, “that the Prince had a girlfriend from Nesmith. I don’t know if that helps, but they are supposed to be aligned with the Badgers there.”

Beasley called from his seat in the back. “I know a professor in Ain. Albert and I both took one of his classes.”

“What kind of professor,” asked Sam?

Beasley answered, “Political Science.”

Sam and Besh shared a knowing glance. Besh suggested, “He might have information.”

Sam replied, “And you want us to fly into Badger-controlled territory?”

Besh could only smile and offer an apologetic shrug.

“Right,” said Sam. “We can change course for Ain but we can’t just fly right in. We’ll need to ditch somewhere close.”