Free Lone Star 04 by Wesley Ellis Page A

villagers need any more proof that the place called Kansas was not for them?
    Maybe it wasn’t exactly like that, thought Ki—but it was likely close enough. Zascha would do his damnedest to—
    A boot scraped earth behind him and Ki threw himself aside, feeling the weapon slice air only inches from his shoulder. He rolled, and came up on his haunches in a crouch. The man came at him like a bull, whipping the club before him in a quick, vicious arc. Ki stepped deftly away, heard the other man too late, and took the big fist on his shoulder. Ki staggered, stumbling away from his attackers. The first man yelled and came at him, raised the club, and swept it at Ki’s head. Ki twisted and found his footing, caught the weapon in his fist, and swung the man aside.
    His other assailant was more cautious now. He circled Ki warily, waiting for his friend. Ki watched him. They wanted to get him between them—one in front and the other in back. He moved in close to the man he could see and let them have their way. The man backed off, drawing Ki toward him. Ki sensed the other man, felt him right behind him.
    Suddenly he feinted toward the man in front, twisted, and moved in a blur. His foot lashed out and caught the man behind him in the gut. The man cried out, dropped his weapon, and clutched his belly. Ki kicked him solidly in the throat, hard enough to down him without snapping his neck.
    When he turned, the other man was coming at him. Ki stood his ground. The man stopped, surprised to see his foe simply standing there waiting for the blow. Then the tendons tightened in his arms and he swept the air with his club, forcing Ki back. He’d learned a few lessons and was taking his time. Now he held the club in a shorter, easier grip, with both hands, grasping the weapon close to the chest and making it hard for Ki to come at him.
    Ki watched the man’s eyes, the muscles in his neck. The man swung, again and again. Each time, Ki took a step back, knowing the instant before the blow was coming. The man tried to throw him off, feinting, then coming in fast. Ki waited. The man came at him again and Ki ducked, digging his heels in the earth and launching himself like a spring at the man’s legs.
    The attacker shouted and flailed his arms. The club fell away. Ki slammed him hard against the ground. The man rolled, swung a big fist, and caught Ki’s jaw. Ki spit blood and wiped his mouth. The man scrambled to his feet. Ki hit him—short, punishing blows that whipped inside the man’s guard. The man swung wildly at Ki, but Ki merely jerked his head aside and let the blows pass. He came inside the man’s arms and slapped him with three rapid blows across the face. The man staggered. His arms went limp and a glaze covered his eyes. Ki tapped him lightly on the jaw and turned away, not even waiting to watch him fall.
    As he turned, Ki saw something move in the shadow of one of the cottages. He couldn’t see who it was, but it didn’t take much to guess.
    â€œZascha,” he said softly, “you send other men to do your work. You should come and try yourself.” The shadow didn’t answer. When Ki looked again, it was gone.
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    Jessie turned as Feodor opened the door to the night and closed it quickly behind him. “Well, I’m glad you’re back safe,” she said. “Is anything out there?”
    â€œIf it is, I didn’t see it,” he said flatly. “And that is fine with me.” He looked at Jessie, then past her to the closed door of Gustolf’s room. “I found it,” he said, holding up the cane for her to see. “The old man will be relieved. How is he? Was he badly hurt?”
    â€œNo, he’s all right. Sonia’s with him now. I think she probably passed out from exhaustion.” Jessie turned her head slightly and watched Feodor as he slipped off his jacket and heated the last of the coffee on the stove. He was a