Edge: Apache Death

He took one final glance down at the Apache camp and saw the braves hurrying toward their ponies, then moved quickly to where his army mount was ground hobbled. He heeled him into a fast gallop, heading toward the natural trail he had come up by, even though he knew it led to only one place. But he considered the high walls of Fort Rainbow were better protection than unfamiliar foothills when the Apache nation was on the warpath.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The evening sun was changing color from dull, yellow to vivid red as Edge rode at full gallop down Rainbow’s main street toward the gates of the fort. The hanks of his horse were lathered white and his own body was running with sweat which pasted, his shirt to his back. It had been a long, hard ride with the leading group of Apaches close on his heels all the way from the canyon to the, crest of the northern ridge. Only a small party had ventured after him on the frantic, half-running-half-sliding descent down the face and it was the group of' braves who thundered in his wake as he entered the town. But a change came over the Indians as he led them closer to the fort. Their enraged yelps and horrendous-whooping warcries faltered and then ended and as Edge glanced over his shoulder he saw the braves were dropping back. But Edge continued to ask his mount for everything the animal's stout heart could produce and as the fort gates were flung wide he went through at a full gallop, wheeling in a tight turn as they were slammed closed behind him. A volley of rifle fire rang out from the top of the wall, halting the pursuing braves who spent a few moments venting their frustrated rage before turning to leave.

As Edge dismounted, drawing in deep breaths, he stroked the neck of his exhausted horse and watched the approach of Colonel Murray who strode across the compound from his quarters.

The officer regarded Edge with small pleasure. "You decided to come back."

Edge turned on his cold grin, "It was a joint decision. Me and a few hundred Apaches."

"We have better uses for our ammunition than to protect reckless adventurers," Murray snapped. Edge studied him more closely and recognized in the haunted eyes and drawn lines of his pallid face the sign of a man nearing the end of a short tether. Then he glanced around the fort lit by the fading light of a dying day and saw a variety of similar expressions upon the faces of both soldiers and civilian townspeople as they moved about the compound. And not only was it in the faces of the men and women that their fear was evident. It was apparent in the cautious manner they moved and the quick, suspicious turning of heads and reaching for guns that was triggered by each sound not immediately recognizable.

"You expecting it to hit the fan soon?" Edge asked when he had finished his survey.

Murray suddenly developed a nervous tic in his right cheek and he quickly raised a hand to try to conceal it. He looked up and over the western wall of the fort and drew in his breath for a long sigh. "My guess is tonight. Fort Lawrence—twenty miles north of here—was overrun last night and every man was slaughtered. Then at dawn today the town of Rocky Haven was wiped out—that's the next town east on the stage trail. The army has been put on to a war footing. Where did you have your run-in with the Apaches, Mr. Edge?"

Edge ran a finger down the flank of his horse and brought it away cloaked in a sweat foam. "Two hours hard riding from here. Don't reckon anybody could do it in less."

"How many of them?"

Edge picked up the reins and began to lead the animal across the compound toward the stables. Murray fell in beside him.

"Three hundred and maybe more. Not less."

"Any rifles?"

Edge spat. "They weren't using them on English."

Murray looked at him sharply. ''The Apaches captured Fallowfield?"

"Yeah. And they've got a white girl as well. Seems she was the girl of the chief s dreams until she got out of line. Now she's a kind, of nightmare with big boobs."

"Weren't they killed?" Murray asked, then snapped a command to a nearby soldier who sprang forward to take care of Edge's mount.

Edge relinquished the responsibility gratefully. "Maybe."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Edge shrugged and nodded toward the stockade in one comer of the compound, its spiked topped fence and substantial gate patrolled by two armed guards. "Little Cochise still in the pokey, Colonel?"

"Of course. He's our insurance. What do you mean; maybe?"

"Indians were playing some kind of Apache roulette with English and then the girl riled them. I tangled with a couple of braves and that sort of interrupted the proceedings. I had to beat it. English and the white squaw weren't very healthy when I left, but they were still breathing. My guess would be that English, at least, is still alive. But I bet he's not making with the smart lip anymore."

Murray's haggard face took on a thoughtful frown. "Was Chief Cochise at the camp?"