Apache Rampage by J. T. Edson

present time of danger, he would not risk losing anything. ‘I think we ought to get the men out and digging.’
    ‘The town should take over your food and get it up to the church ready, Haslett,’ Ellwood went on, looking for more support. ‘Just in case.’
    ‘That won’t be necessary with the rifle pits dug,’ Haslett gulped, seeing his chance of a profit slipping. The other members of the council would not object to his making a profit—but not at their expense. They would not agree to paying more than the wholesale price if they purchased the goods from town funds.
    ‘Go and get the men together then,’ Ellwood ordered and the other three men left the room. Turning to his prisoners Ellwood went on, ‘I’ll get you a meal before I go out.’
    ‘There’s no rush, Marshal,’ replied Scully, so grateful at not being forced to commit work that he was almost willing to forgive Ellwood for not accepting his bribe. ‘And thank you, sir, thank you.’
    Ellwood could not decide what the prisoner was thanking him for and left without inquiring. Scully and Willy exchanged glances, then both went to lay back on the hard, uncomfortable beds, ignoring the discomfort.
    ‘That was close,’ said Scully.
    ‘What’s it all about?’ Willy inquired. ‘I saw ole Doc and Miz Phyllis leave town with four men.’
    ‘Were they people from the town?’ asked Scully, for he liked Doc and Phyllis.
    ‘Nope, they wus cowhands and good uns at that.’
    ‘There was some talk of Apaches,’ Scully mused, looking up at the room. ‘I wouldn’t want to be caught in here by Apaches. It wouldn’t be restful or pleasant.’
    Ellwood found a sullen, mutinous crowd awaiting him outside the office. The citizens of the town had one thing in common, a dislike for doing anything which did not pay a return in good, hard cash. They were so narrow-minded that none could see the sense in digging holes which might never be needed. There was still less enthusiasm when they realised they’d be forced to man the same holes.
    One of the men stepped forward. ‘Look here, Major,’ he said truculently. ‘We been talking things over and we don’t reckon there’s any need for us to get all hot and bothered. Maybe a couple of miners were killed in the hills, maybe there wasn’t. We ain’t but got the words of them four men for it. Even if they did find the two miners it don’t mean Ramon’s people done it. It could have been done by renegades. Anyways, we haven’t heard from the Army yet.’
    Ellwood was beginning to hate the people of his town, hate their selfish ways and actions. ‘So?’ he asked grimly.
    ‘The stage comes in at noon today.’
    ‘I know that.’
    ‘Last one come in a week back.’
    ‘What’re you getting at?’
    ‘It won’t be running if the Apaches are out, now will it?’
    ‘It wouldn’t, most likely,’ agreed Ellwood. ‘If folks knew about the Apaches being out, that is.’
    ‘Then how about waiting until one o’clock?’ the man demanded.
    There was some sense in what the man was saying. Ellwood conceded the point, for he knew that the Wells Fargo Company would not be running their stage if they knew of Apache trouble. This was also a slack time of the year, and only one coach could be guaranteed to run. That was the fast mail carrying coach to Fort Owen, it was due in Baptist’s Hollow at noon this day, and the driver was proud of his boast that he was never late. The only trouble with waiting was that it would have wasted valuable time which could profitably be spent in preparing the defences of the town. Ellwood knew there was no chance of getting anything done by his people until they were sure it was absolutely necessary, so he gave in with bad grace.
    ‘All right, do what you want,’ he snapped. ‘But if that coach isn’t here by one o’clock, we’re starting to dig those pits without any more talk.’
    The crowd dispersed and Ellwood went back to the jail. He was in a mood and did no more than