Read Slocum Giant 2013 : Slocum and the Silver City Harlot (9781101601860) for Free Online Page B

Apaches slipping away from their reservation, but such a small band might not have been noticed by the cavalry.
    The outlaws certainly noticed them, however.
    The one with the arrow in his leg rolled under the wagon where his partner fired methodically to hold the Apaches at bay. The sound of his rifle told Slocum his Henry was being put to good use. If he’d held it in his hands, the fight would have been over in a few seconds. During the war he had been a sniper for the CSA and had turned the tide of more than one battle by sighting in on a federal officer’s braid, then robbing the Yankees of their commanding officer. From his perch in the tree he saw which of the Apaches ordered the others about.
    Killing the war chief wouldn’t make the Indians run away, but it would throw them into disarray. They would have to palaver and agree on a new war chief, which bought time.
    The outlaw with the arrow in his leg screeched when his partner rammed it through so the arrowhead came out the back of his leg, then snapped off the shaft before pulling back. Slocum couldn’t see the arrowhead clearly but it likely was a broadhead. Yanking it out rather than shoving it through would have caused an even worse wound. Again, he developed some respect for the road agents and their fighting experience.
    They weren’t fools. So why did they risk their lives for a hunk of ice?
    A sudden lull in the gunfire caused Slocum to tense. The silence hurt his ears after all the loud reports. Clouds of white gun smoke drifted through the meadow, making it difficult for either side in the fight to see the other. If even one Apache had had Slocum’s vantage, the fight would have been over in a flash.
    The three outlaws lay still on the ground under the wagon. This trick lured out two braves, both armed with bows and arrows. The other Apaches with rifles remained in hiding. Step by step they made their way through the smoke until they were only a few yards away.
    The Indians saw they had fallen for a trap and dived to the ground as they loosed their arrows. One road agent’s slug hit a warrior. From the way he remained facedown on the ground, Slocum thought he had died instantly. The other brave rolled over, firing arrows as he tried to find cover from the road agents’ new fusillade.
    The Apache jerked as at least one slug tore into him, but he kept fighting, kept moving, let the remaining three warriors offer covering fire so he could escape.
    For their part, the Apaches likely wanted nothing more than the mules still hitched to the wagon. Slocum couldn’t guess what the road agents wanted. One of them moved from under the wagon and climbed into the bed to use the ice in its crate as cover. For whatever reason, Frank took this as a sterling opportunity to join the battle. He got off three rounds before the outlaws figured they had been flanked and turned their guns on him.
    The redhead jumped to his feet and tried to replicate the frontal assault Slocum had tried. It didn’t work out for him. He jerked upright, clutched his side, then was spun around again as another round drilled through his hide.
    â€œThey’re comin’ back!”
    Slocum didn’t know which of the outlaws shouted the warning, but they turned their guns once more on the Apaches. Mounted now, the Indians galloped forward, the wounded man with the bow and arrow trailing a second horse. They circled the fallen brave and tried to get him belly down across his horse. The outlaws fired with the precision of a military unit and drove them away.
    The riderless horse reared and pawed at the Apache on the ground, forcing him to release the bridle and return to his own horse. The four surviving Indians beat a retreat.
    â€œThink they’ll come back?”
    Slocum couldn’t tell which of the outlaws asked the question. It didn’t matter. They helped their wounded partner into the driver’s box and shoved the reins into his hand.