time to gather the horses or chase a well-mounted man on foot.
Heâd be giving up the chance to get more rifles back, and to get even with Red Shirt, butâ¦
He got to his hands and knees. He felt it rise in him. I need to act. He saw what to do. Guards had to drink, especially on a sun-blasted day like this one. He would wait by the river and take the first man in silence.
The second�
It took time to slip back into the ravine, circle the herd on the upstream side, and get into the cover of the brush alongside the Colorado. He dropped to his knees and drank deep.
Coy lapped gingerly. He never seemed to need much water.
Sam surveyed the ground, which would become a killing field. The other advantage here, he noted, was that the rush-rush of the current would cover the sounds of his movements.
He slipped back through the willows, searched for the guards, and got a nasty surprise.
Four guards stood together talking.
Sam waited and watched. They chatted. Reed and Limp waved, walked away toward the river.
Damn, they were changing the guards. In the middle of the day.
This thought gave Sam a chill. As heâd slipped down from the ridge to the river, heâd crossed paths with the arriving guards.
Reed and Limp strolled casually through the brush, worrying about nothing.
Sam put a hand on Coy and kept low in a clump of willows. Reed was carrying The Celt. Sam ached to jump out and grab his rifle. But it didnât feel right.
Reed and Limp drank from the river, looked around, laughed about something, and headed along the bank toward the village.
Sam followed on the sly.
Â
H OURS LATER, BACK at his bivouac, Coy resting and Brownie grazing nearby, Sam added up his information. He knew the spread of the brush huts on the sand flat thoroughly. Now heâd seen that Reedâs hut was on the northern end, and he had a pretty wife with a child on the way. The wife had a mole next to her left nipple, what among white women might be thought of as a beauty mark.
The Celt was tucked into the hutânot lying directly on the sand, Sam hoped. Reed sat on a cottonwood log with other men, all of them straightening arrow shafts. Beauty Mark puttered around the hut. Then she went to work the fields by the river with other women. Sam followed them, bush to bush. For a moment the hut was unattended. But Samâs white skin and white hair would be spotted.
He slipped back here to rest and wait for the cover of darkness. Surely The Celt would be in the hut tonight. He pictured the dome of brush. It was outlying; it faced east. A fire pit blackened the sand in front of the door, evidently where Beauty Mark did the cooking. A shovel leaned next to the entrance. That shovel irked SamâJedediah had traded shovels to the Mojaves just a couple of weeks ago.
It would be dicey to slip into the hut with the couple sleeping there, dark or not. And if he woke them, heâd have a hell of a long run to reach the herd and get Paladin.
Would the Mojaves guess the horses were a target? He thought so. Then they would boil around him like hornets. He couldnât take the chance.
On the other hand, he did have a trick that might let him get Paladin out of the herdâ¦
He shook his head to clear it of doubt. Hell, maybe the Indians would have a get-together tonight, some sort of ceremony, and his rifle would be unwatched.
One comfortâthe camp dogs wouldnât get excited about Sam or Coy. After the days spent around each other, the dogs were used to them.
Oh, didnât he miss his pistol now? He was thinking of how the Mojaves panicked at the firing of two rifles on the day of the slaughter. But he traded his pistol for Brownie, who was essential.
Well, he thought, maybe Iâll just have to do what I like to do, start the trouble and then improvise like crazy.
On that note he took a cat nap.
Â
T HE NIGHT WAS chill. Lying on a boulder, Sam hugged himself. Coy was all eyes on the village, and
Heâd be giving up the chance to get more rifles back, and to get even with Red Shirt, butâ¦
He got to his hands and knees. He felt it rise in him. I need to act. He saw what to do. Guards had to drink, especially on a sun-blasted day like this one. He would wait by the river and take the first man in silence.
The second�
It took time to slip back into the ravine, circle the herd on the upstream side, and get into the cover of the brush alongside the Colorado. He dropped to his knees and drank deep.
Coy lapped gingerly. He never seemed to need much water.
Sam surveyed the ground, which would become a killing field. The other advantage here, he noted, was that the rush-rush of the current would cover the sounds of his movements.
He slipped back through the willows, searched for the guards, and got a nasty surprise.
Four guards stood together talking.
Sam waited and watched. They chatted. Reed and Limp waved, walked away toward the river.
Damn, they were changing the guards. In the middle of the day.
This thought gave Sam a chill. As heâd slipped down from the ridge to the river, heâd crossed paths with the arriving guards.
Reed and Limp strolled casually through the brush, worrying about nothing.
Sam put a hand on Coy and kept low in a clump of willows. Reed was carrying The Celt. Sam ached to jump out and grab his rifle. But it didnât feel right.
Reed and Limp drank from the river, looked around, laughed about something, and headed along the bank toward the village.
Sam followed on the sly.
Â
H OURS LATER, BACK at his bivouac, Coy resting and Brownie grazing nearby, Sam added up his information. He knew the spread of the brush huts on the sand flat thoroughly. Now heâd seen that Reedâs hut was on the northern end, and he had a pretty wife with a child on the way. The wife had a mole next to her left nipple, what among white women might be thought of as a beauty mark.
The Celt was tucked into the hutânot lying directly on the sand, Sam hoped. Reed sat on a cottonwood log with other men, all of them straightening arrow shafts. Beauty Mark puttered around the hut. Then she went to work the fields by the river with other women. Sam followed them, bush to bush. For a moment the hut was unattended. But Samâs white skin and white hair would be spotted.
He slipped back here to rest and wait for the cover of darkness. Surely The Celt would be in the hut tonight. He pictured the dome of brush. It was outlying; it faced east. A fire pit blackened the sand in front of the door, evidently where Beauty Mark did the cooking. A shovel leaned next to the entrance. That shovel irked SamâJedediah had traded shovels to the Mojaves just a couple of weeks ago.
It would be dicey to slip into the hut with the couple sleeping there, dark or not. And if he woke them, heâd have a hell of a long run to reach the herd and get Paladin.
Would the Mojaves guess the horses were a target? He thought so. Then they would boil around him like hornets. He couldnât take the chance.
On the other hand, he did have a trick that might let him get Paladin out of the herdâ¦
He shook his head to clear it of doubt. Hell, maybe the Indians would have a get-together tonight, some sort of ceremony, and his rifle would be unwatched.
One comfortâthe camp dogs wouldnât get excited about Sam or Coy. After the days spent around each other, the dogs were used to them.
Oh, didnât he miss his pistol now? He was thinking of how the Mojaves panicked at the firing of two rifles on the day of the slaughter. But he traded his pistol for Brownie, who was essential.
Well, he thought, maybe Iâll just have to do what I like to do, start the trouble and then improvise like crazy.
On that note he took a cat nap.
Â
T HE NIGHT WAS chill. Lying on a boulder, Sam hugged himself. Coy was all eyes on the village, and
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