Edge: Apache Death

"It is," Edge answered; continuing toward the door, not looking at where the soldiers stood. "I knew the dude was fast and I wanted to see how fast."

"Faster than you?" the lieutenant called scornfully.

Edge pushed out the swing doors without answering, but knowing what he would have had to admit, if a reply were demanded. But as soon as he stepped down off the sidewalk, heading across the street toward a restaurant from which a delicious smell of frying bacon was issuing, the question no longer had any immediate importance.

The wagon came sliding in off the cross street, pulled by four terrified white horses with blazing rags tied to their tails, driven by a whooping Apache brave. A hail of arrows arced in over the top of the wagon as more Indian warcries cut through the darkness, piercing it with streaks of flame from blazing flights.

"Looks like the natives are restless tonight," Edge muttered as he ducked for cover, firing at the wagon driver. 

CHAPTER SIX

THERE had been a moment of shocked inaction from the townspeople as the Apache attack was launched and it seemed to be as much a result of Edge's rifle shot as .the sight of the Indians which spurred Rainbow's citizenry into panicked retaliation. The bullet gouged a bloody furrow across the Apache's chest and he screamed in agony as he let go of, the reins and jerked erect, a moment before toppling sideways off the speeding wagon, crashing on top of an incredibly fat woman and bowling her into the path of the rear wheel. Her scream as the iron rim of the wheel crushed over her skull was lost in the fusillade of gunfire which suddenly erupted along the street, directed at the horde of galloping Apaches which had followed the wagon round the comer. They had exhausted their burning arrows now, but these had served their purpose as the wooden frontages of many buildings caught light, illuminating targets for a new wave of shafts, aimed to kill.

Two of the army sergeants rushed from the Lucky Ace, revolvers drawn but unfired as they pitched into the street, each with two arrows in his chest. Crouching tight against the saloon wall, with only shadow for cover, Edge snapped off two shots into the Indian pack and saw two bodies slide under the galloping hooves of following ponies. He dropped off the end of the sidewalk and ducked into an alley as an arrow embedded itself into the spot where he had been a moment before. Down at the fort the army bugler started to sound call but this and every other sound of the battle was suddenly swamped by a tremendous explosion that caused the ground to tremble and sent a waft of hot, stench-tainted air rushing along the street.

"Nice to start things with a bang, old boy."

Edge peered into the darkness and saw the Englishman rising from the ground, dusting off his suit. "The wagon?" 

"I would think so. Trying to blow off the gates of the fort. Went up too early though, I'd say."

A woman screamed and Edge turned his attention to the street. The whore from the Pot of Gold who had found his nakedness so beguiling, had been snatched up from the sidewalk by a horrifically daubed brave who had slung her face down across his pony, and was preparing to plunge a knife into her back. Edge fired and the bullet shattered the braves jaw. He fell backward off the pony and the woman-screamed again as blood and bone fragments showered her. The pony veered toward the side of the street and the woman's head crashed with a sickening, cracking sound into a sidewalk support. She thudded to the ground, head at an awkward angle.

"Bad luck, old boy," the Englishman said. "It was a gallant try."

"Can't you do any damn thing but talk?" Edge snapped at him as he pumped more bullets out toward the galloping Apaches, bringing down one pony and two braves.

"My little under and over weapon is only suited to card school disagreements; old boy," the Englishman' said easily. "I seldom carry a rifle."

Edge glanced back at the street, which was suddenly empty of live Apaches, the group having rode past, toward the fort. But there were at least a dozen near-naked, coppery brown bodies strewn in the dust, interspersed with as many dead white men and three women.

"There's a whole damn arsenal out there," Edge said as he fed more bullets into the Spencer's magazine.

"But they have such a violent kick," the Englishman said with distaste, grinning as Edge spun to look at him.

"You ain't that fastidious."

The Englishman's expression showed admiration. "A gunslinger with four-dollar words in his vocabulary. Rainbow surprises' me more and more."

Edge finished loading the rifle. "England ain't the only country with schools." He glanced out at the street. "What about that rifle? They'll be back through here."