It didn't take long for Henry to get what he needed. He now knew the approximate locations of all eight ambush points. He'd already suspected four of them, and using those as a reference, he could pinpoint the rest.
He woke the second captive and repeated the interrogation. Their stories matched.
He stuffed the gags back in their mouths, then walked over to the other two captives and knocked them unconscious again with a single punch each.
"Mr. Mellon," Henry said, his voice low. "I'm going now to eliminate the remaining ninety-seven outlaws. I'm leaving you in charge here."
"Of course. I'll protect this position," Richard replied.
"But I only have two pairs of handcuffs," Henry continued. "And leaving you here with four of these men is too dangerous. They have their own tricks. So, you must choose two."
"Choose two for what?"
"To live," Henry said, looking at Richard as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "The other two, you will kill. Or you can kill all four."
"What?!" Richard was stunned.
On the floor, Jim and the other conscious outlaw began to struggle violently, their eyes wide with terror, muffled screams trapped behind their gags.
Henry's gaze swept over Richard, Edith, and Madeline. "Think about what just happened to you," he said, his voice soft but firm. "What would have become of you if I hadn't been here?"
He let the question hang in the air, letting the memory of their terror sink in.
"If more outlaws come, Mr. Mellon, can you protect these ladies in your current state?"
"You heard them. I am about to face nearly a hundred gunmen."
"In the West, a man can only rely on himself. He must rely on himself."
The memory of the assault was still fresh in Madeline's mind. "Sheriff Henry is right," she said, her voice filled with a cold fury.
Edith thought of what had almost happened, a wave of post-traumatic fear washing over her. Her wits, her beauty… they had been utterly useless.
Richard remembered the helpless, pathetic way he had struggled against his bonds. He couldn't bear to imagine what would have happened to his beloved Madeline. The thought ignited a fire in his soul. He was a man who had dared to venture into the West; he did not lack for courage. He stood, took the rifle, and aimed it at the two outlaws closest to him.
"Aim for their hips," Henry advised from behind him. "Less blood that way."
BANG! BANG!
Richard did as he was told.
"Alright, let me see if they're dead," Henry said, and strode over to the two men. He grabbed each of them by the neck and gave them a violent shake.
A new white pearl and a new grey one appeared in his vision.
He let them go and stood, looking Richard directly in the eye. "You did well, Mr. Mellon. You killed them. You have courage. The camp is yours now. I'm going to deal with the other hundred. But be warned: more may come. Or wolves, or bears. If they are not killed, you will die. Do not hesitate."
Richard felt as if some internal chain had been broken. "Don't worry," he said, his voice steady and hard. "I won't." He walked over to Jim's body and retrieved his Patek Philippe watch.
Henry removed the handcuffs from the two dead men and used them on Bick and the other young outlaw. He then took two daggers from the bodies and handed one to Edith, the other to Madeline.
"Take these. Protect yourselves," he said, looking each of them in the eye.
Edith felt a strange energy in his gaze, as if he could see directly into her soul. Her heart began to pound.
"I have to go now, before they get suspicious," Henry said. "Wait for my return. Don't wander off. Stay safe."
"Be careful, Sheriff Henry," they all said in unison.
Henry grabbed the two dead bodies and vanished from the cave entrance.
The moment he was gone, the atmosphere in the cave changed. With Henry there, it had felt like standing on a rock in the middle of a raging river, perfectly safe. Now, the cave was a fragile, terrifying place, surrounded by a thousand unseen dangers. Richard felt it too. He gripped his rifle tightly, his eyes fixed on the entrance.
Edith and Madeline began to pray, their low whispers a desperate attempt to ward off the encroaching fear.
Henry had his reasons for forcing Richard's hand. He wasn't sure what use it would be, but he knew it couldn't hurt. Anyone who had read the old stories knew the power of a pledge made in blood.
He used a grey pearl to restore his health to 100%, then began to move silently toward the nearest ambush point.
He had more than enough throwing knives. He would use them exclusively, unless he was compromised. To ensure success, he would activate his Super Reflexes for each attack. The ninety-seven remaining outlaws were split into eight groups, about twelve men each. With his reflexes active, he could throw twenty knives in a single second. Even with difficult terrain, he could easily put a knife in each of their throats or eyes before they could react.
The only limitation was range. His light throwing knives were only effective out to about twenty meters. Within ten meters, he could throw them with a straight, direct trajectory, with even greater speed and power.
He decided to go for "Cross-Eye" Frank's position first. It was the highest of the ambush points. If he took them out, the others below wouldn't see or hear a thing. Besides, Frank would be getting suspicious about Jim's long absence.
He moved through the forest like a ghost in his camouflage clothing, and soon approached their position: a small, shallow cave on a slope three hundred meters up the mountainside.
After waiting for nearly three hours with no sign of Henry, the outlaws had grown lax. They were laughing and talking amongst themselves. Only Frank was still watching the road below with a grim, focused intensity.