Read Apache Moon for Free Online Page B

knew the territory better than they. In addition, he'd met Apache leaders at treaty signings and powwows over the years and felt that they'd respect his tin badge. They knew damn well that if they killed him, the Fourth Cavalry would chase them to the ends of the earth.
    His plan was to travel at night and sleep during the day. The only way to catch your man was just keep on a-comin’. Stowe was relentless in pursuit, and never stopped until he captured his quarry. He thought of the hundred dollars in his jeans, and guilt fell over him yet again, tormenting him endlessly. He tried to convince himself that he wasn't doing something wrong, although he'd accepted a semibribe.
    Is Duane Braddock a killer or the victim of jealousy? he wondered. But I'm not the judge, and it's just my job to bring him in—no matter what it takes. And if I can return that girl to her father, so much the better. There's nothing wrong with that, right?
    Commands were shouted back and forth as the Apache column came to a stop. “Get down,” said the voice of an Apache warrior.
    Duane lowered himself to the ground. The Apache came up behind him and untied the blindfold. The bright sunlight knifed into Duane's head. A narrow craggy incline lay straight ahead. Duane turned toPhyllis, whose blindfold was also being removed. They moved toward each other and embraced.
    â€œCome,” said the Apache warrior. “No time for that now.”
    Other Apaches laughed as they tugged their horses up the impossible path. Duane couldn't understand how they could traverse those jagged teeth. If he were riding by, he'd never dream that men could use it for an avenue of escape.
    â€œWhat is the delay?”
    It was Delgado striding toward them, a scowl on his face. “White Eyes, we know that you are weak, but please do not slow us down too much. We are anxious to return to our camp, see our wives, and mourn for our dead.”
    â€œWe'll keep up,” Duane vowed. “We're not as weak as we look.”
    Delgado placed his hands on his hips and said arrogantly, “White Eyes are pathetic, but you are stealing all our land. It is—how you say—a cont . . . cont . . .”
    â€œContradiction?” Phyllis asked.
    Delgado turned to her and looked her over. “Thank you,” he said coolly. Then he moved off with the sure movements of a mountain cat, and Phyllis wondered how many people he'd killed in order to become a leader of Apache warriors. She shuddered as he issued the command for the warriors to proceed.
    Duane held the reins of his horse as he prepared for the task that lay ahead. He was determined todemonstrate that a white man could climb as fast as they, even though they'd probably kill him later. I can't slow down no matter how tired and thirsty I get.
    The column advanced up the mountain, and Duane looked for the next spot to put his foot. He had to pick and feel his way around sharp boulders that were hell on boots. He looked at the moccasins that the Apaches wore, and they appeared little more than deerskin stockings, not much protection from sharp edges. They must have feet like iron, he mused as he searched for the next toehold. They were amid steep cliffs, rock escarpments, and vast plateaus. Duane turned to look at his horse, which he'd met on the night that Phyllis had sprung him out of the army camp. She'd said it was one of her father's best, and his name was Steve, while Phyllis's horse was Suzie. Duane glanced at his woman and saw that she was climbing steadily, her hat covering her face as she examined the trail before her.
    He figured that he'd be tortured to death while the warriors turned Phyllis into a slave. Apaches liked to stake white people to anthills and pour honey over their faces. Or wrap rawhide thongs around a white man's head, and when the thongs dried, they crushed his skull.
    If any of them lays a hand on Phyllis, I'll go for his throat, and I don't care what they do to me. He