Edge: Apache Death

He was on the flat floor of the valley before he halted again, squinting into the sun as a line of dust rose some three miles away, big enough to be created by a fairly large group of riders. Rainbow was still just a distant huddle of buildings, too far off to offer a chance to outrun the horsemen in the east. So Edge pulled his hat lower and continued to narrow his eyes toward the east as he rolled a cigarette, then smoked it, waiting for the riders to come close enough to be recognized. Finally, his lips curled back in a grin, he urged his horse forward: he had seen the Stars and Stripes flying from a pole amid the rising dust. Then the riders saw him, slowing their pace and as the dust cloud grew less Edge saw a troop of a dozen cavalrymen headed by a lieutenant. They wheeled toward him and halted some three hundred feet in front of him.

"Hurry up there, man!" the officer yelled. "This isn't the kind of country for casual, early morning rides." The lieutenant was young; a fresh-faced" blue-eyed blond, handsome enough to be featured on recruiting posters. His men were older, wearing the expressions of veteran enlisted men who resented military discipline but accepted it because aggravation was as much a part of army life as parades and guard duty. Thus, while the lieutenant eyed Edge with growing impatience, the men regarded him with indifference.

"I was waiting to see who you were," Edge said at length when he was close enough so that he didn't have to shout. "If you were wearing feathers and moccasins I didn't want to be caught in the open. Better chance on the hill."

"Is that a body on the mule?" the lieutenant demanded.

Edge drew hard against his cigarette and threw it away with a sigh. "He ain't just sleeping, lieutenant," he answered. "He was one didn't stand a chance even on the hill."

The officer's expression became grim as he looked beyond Edge, up toward the ridge. "Apaches get him?"

Edge nodded.

"Far away?"

Edge turned in his saddle to look back at the tracks of the horse and burro, marking his course down from the ridge.

"Reckon if the wind was behind you, you could spit to where it happened."

One of the men laughed at this, but his amusement was curtailed as the officer glowered at the troop.

"That close?" he said to Edge, who nodded. "You were involved?"

"Guess you could say that."

"How many of them?"

Edge reached down, unhooked the scalps and held them aloft. "That many."

The lieutenant gasped and there was a stir of conversation among the men.  

"You can throw them away," the officer said in disgust "Unless you want them to decorate your mantelshelf, We're trying to make peace with the Indians. The Government isn't paying scalp bounty anymore."  

Edge shrugged and tossed the hair tufts away from him. "I don't think anyone's told the Apaches about the peace making," he said softly.  

"Let's go," the lieutenant instructed. "Colonel Murray will want to know about the Apaches being this close to Rainbow." He wheeled his horse, raised his arm and dropped it. "Forward!" he yelled and the troop of cavalrymen fell in behind him at a steady trot.

Edge matched their pace, but moved out to the left flank so that he would not be eating their dust. As they neared the river the lieutenant angled toward the west, as if he wasn't heading for town at all and Edge realized the rushing, swirling water was indeed a good defensive line for the town. It was fast flowing and deep, except for the fording point which the lieutenant found without hesitation and plunged in. His men went in behind him; single file and Edge brought up the rear, taking care to keep immediately behind the man ahead of him. The water was muddy and impenetrable and he spoke softly to his horse, urging the animal forward, looking ahead and noting the two landmarks that pointed out the diagonal course of the ford, between a wide crack in the cliff face behind the town and the wooden steeple of a church in Rainbow.

On the opposite bank the soldiers formed up two abreast again and angled across the final stretch of open country toward town, wet trousers and horseflesh already beginning to steam dry in the morning sun.

"Hey, feller," Edge called to the nearest cavalryman. “Where's the best place to stay in town?"

 The man spat and drew the back of a hand across his mouth. "With Injuns this close, the fort."

Edge grinned. "I've served my time in uniform and I hear the pay hasn't improved any since then."

The man shrugged. "Try Miss Ritchie's place. Ain't none too safe if the Injuns hit town, but the beds are soft."

"And if the Apaches don't get me, the clap will, uh?”

The soldier grinned. "You heard about it? Miss Ritchie don't force the girls on you, not unless you want."

"Where is it?"

They were on the edge of town now, entering the long, early-morning deserted street which led right up to the gates of the fort. The man pointed over to the left.

"There. First and last building in Rainbow."