"And police both, I guess. We're being held hostage."
“Hostages twice over!" Tim pointed out. "But they said we hafta go with Rapput or else the war might start again. We'll all die if that happens. Everyone everywhere, even though these Free State guys can't see it. So that's what we should do, even if we have to kill people. It's the least-bad way."
"These guys are stupid!" I agreed in my reply, underlining the word over and over again. "We aren't going to be able to talk sense to them. Not even Mom or Dad could."
"It'll help us get out, them being stupid," Tim replied. "A lot." Then he began a new line. "We need to rest, eat too. Even Li, Rapput need rest. After food is the best time. We may not eat again for a while.”
"There's no indoor plumbing," I wrote back. "That's maybe how we could divide them?"
"I'll get sick," he agreed. "Then we'll make our move outside and fake it from there. Kill if we have to, but not if we don't?"
I stuck my head out where he could see and nodded, then put aside my last reservations. Right was right, Mom used to tell us. And we were clearly in the right. Just because parts of it were likely to be pretty awful didn't make it not-right. Which in turn meant we should approach this just like any other hunt, in order to give us the best odds possible. "It's my turn to pull the trigger."
"Not!" he replied. "The doe ran away before I could shoot."
I smiled as I read his words; Tim loved being the one to take the important shots, and I loved to prod him about it. Well, this time we'd see what developed. "Night, Timmy!" I said aloud.
"Night, Robert," he replied.
All the planning that could be done, was done. Perhaps Rapput was right about my brother and I being among our kind's foremost natural warriors, even though we were still just kids. After all, kids our age and even younger had fought for their tribes and nations as long back as anyone could remember. Though Dad would've just called us healthy, independent-minded Montana ranch boys, and that was probably a lot closer to the truth.