near his camp.
He crouched, slowly climbed up out of his hollow, keeping the rider's head in view until it was hidden by the rocks above.
He stopped when he reached the top of the rise, then slowly raised his head.
The rider was gone.
Damn.
He rose higher. At first he saw nothing on the sloping plain below, a stand of saguaro in the moonlight, nothing more.
Then, one of the cactus moved, and he had his rider in sight.
Injun. No doubt about it, the way the man rode, and Reney could now see the man's bare back. Reney wondered what the hell a Papagos was doing here, thirty miles from his reservation, where he was neither wanted nor allowed.
A chill went up Reney's back as he realized that the stand of saguaro the Injun had ridden into was not a field of cactus at all, but other riders.
Reney counted six â no, seven. Seven Injuns, tall in the saddle, grouped in the moonlight.
Then another chill went up Reney's back as the original Injun he had seen waved to something in the distance, and a small army of Injuns appeared out of the darkness of the far hills and rode silently toward the group of seven.
Reney lost count at eighty, and stood rooted to his spot as the small army hooked up with the new band, then rode straight toward him, passing on the plain below, not fifty feet from the hollow where his camp was.
He thanked the Lord his fire was out, for they would have smelled the smoke for sure.
And they weren't Papagos. Reney thought he recognized one Papagos among them, Le-Cato, the new big chief or whatever they called him. But he couldn't be sure.
The Injuns rode on below him, the only sound their horses' huffing. Suddenly Reney felt the cold of the night, but again he thanked the Lord for that dead fire of his. . . .
He waited till the Injuns were well out of sight to the east, heading toward the mountains outside of Tucson.
Then, he rushed back to his camp, broke down his tent, and packed his horse.
If he was lucky, he could get back to the mining camp by morning. If Frawley didn't believe him, he'd go straight to the big man, Mates. Someone would take him seriously. The mining company would at least tell someone back in Tucson, and Fort Ranier would be alerted by telegraph, and the army boys would look into this thing, and do something about it. But that could take days.
Climbing up onto his horse, Reney wondered if that Negro Mullin knew about this, if this was why the man was here.
He shook his head. Don't think, get out. Get out and let the white men handle it. "Wish I was back in Memphis."
Reining his horse around, Reney heard a sound above him, a scratch on the rocks. Oh, Lord, they've found me.
But, looking up, he saw nothing.
Deciding not to wait and see, he urged the horse forward, out of the hollow, and turned it down the steep slope toward the plain below. Then he would ride a mile or so south, skirting the Injuns' path, then head at top speed toward the mining camp.
Again, something scratched above him on the rocks. A shape loomed up.
"What the â " Reney said, as a dark mass of feathers rose on the rock shelf above him, raised giant wings, then swooped down.
His curse was swallowed by the night, and even the Indian riders did not hear his single muffled scream as the thing covered and overwhelmed him.
Chapter Eighteen
Â
Thomas awoke to the face of someone he didn't recognize, a white woman with hair pulled back away from her face bending over him. She had kind blue eyes.
"Feel better?" she asked.
"Who -
"Don't talk," the white woman said. She held a cloth in her hand, and she dabbed at his face with it. Thomas felt soothing coolness. The woman took the cloth away, dabbed it in a dish of water on a table next to the bed, and patted at him again. Only when Thomas tried to move any part of his face did he feel tightness and discomfort.
"I'm Mary, the Marshal's wife," the woman said, before he could speak again. "Your friend is in the other bedroom. Dr. Leonard set his
He crouched, slowly climbed up out of his hollow, keeping the rider's head in view until it was hidden by the rocks above.
He stopped when he reached the top of the rise, then slowly raised his head.
The rider was gone.
Damn.
He rose higher. At first he saw nothing on the sloping plain below, a stand of saguaro in the moonlight, nothing more.
Then, one of the cactus moved, and he had his rider in sight.
Injun. No doubt about it, the way the man rode, and Reney could now see the man's bare back. Reney wondered what the hell a Papagos was doing here, thirty miles from his reservation, where he was neither wanted nor allowed.
A chill went up Reney's back as he realized that the stand of saguaro the Injun had ridden into was not a field of cactus at all, but other riders.
Reney counted six â no, seven. Seven Injuns, tall in the saddle, grouped in the moonlight.
Then another chill went up Reney's back as the original Injun he had seen waved to something in the distance, and a small army of Injuns appeared out of the darkness of the far hills and rode silently toward the group of seven.
Reney lost count at eighty, and stood rooted to his spot as the small army hooked up with the new band, then rode straight toward him, passing on the plain below, not fifty feet from the hollow where his camp was.
He thanked the Lord his fire was out, for they would have smelled the smoke for sure.
And they weren't Papagos. Reney thought he recognized one Papagos among them, Le-Cato, the new big chief or whatever they called him. But he couldn't be sure.
The Injuns rode on below him, the only sound their horses' huffing. Suddenly Reney felt the cold of the night, but again he thanked the Lord for that dead fire of his. . . .
He waited till the Injuns were well out of sight to the east, heading toward the mountains outside of Tucson.
Then, he rushed back to his camp, broke down his tent, and packed his horse.
If he was lucky, he could get back to the mining camp by morning. If Frawley didn't believe him, he'd go straight to the big man, Mates. Someone would take him seriously. The mining company would at least tell someone back in Tucson, and Fort Ranier would be alerted by telegraph, and the army boys would look into this thing, and do something about it. But that could take days.
Climbing up onto his horse, Reney wondered if that Negro Mullin knew about this, if this was why the man was here.
He shook his head. Don't think, get out. Get out and let the white men handle it. "Wish I was back in Memphis."
Reining his horse around, Reney heard a sound above him, a scratch on the rocks. Oh, Lord, they've found me.
But, looking up, he saw nothing.
Deciding not to wait and see, he urged the horse forward, out of the hollow, and turned it down the steep slope toward the plain below. Then he would ride a mile or so south, skirting the Injuns' path, then head at top speed toward the mining camp.
Again, something scratched above him on the rocks. A shape loomed up.
"What the â " Reney said, as a dark mass of feathers rose on the rock shelf above him, raised giant wings, then swooped down.
His curse was swallowed by the night, and even the Indian riders did not hear his single muffled scream as the thing covered and overwhelmed him.
Chapter Eighteen
Â
Thomas awoke to the face of someone he didn't recognize, a white woman with hair pulled back away from her face bending over him. She had kind blue eyes.
"Feel better?" she asked.
"Who -
"Don't talk," the white woman said. She held a cloth in her hand, and she dabbed at his face with it. Thomas felt soothing coolness. The woman took the cloth away, dabbed it in a dish of water on a table next to the bed, and patted at him again. Only when Thomas tried to move any part of his face did he feel tightness and discomfort.
"I'm Mary, the Marshal's wife," the woman said, before he could speak again. "Your friend is in the other bedroom. Dr. Leonard set his
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