Arizona Ambushers Read Free Page B

to?”
    Fargo was as amazed as she was, and shouldn’t be. He’d dealt with Apaches before. They were will-o’-the-wisps, masters at melting away as if they were never there.
    â€œWhere
are
they?” Geraldine said again. “I saw them as plain as anything.”
    â€œWe have to light a shuck,” Fargo urged. At any moment, those warriors might jump them.
    â€œI’m not leaving until I’ve seen my husband.”
    â€œIf you’re trying to get us killed,” Fargo said, “you’re going about it the right way.”
    â€œI told you not to come with me,” Geraldine said, wheeling and striding past him. “I could have done this myself.”
    To get it over with, Fargo said, “Let me show you where he is.”
    Apaches were notorious for their horse stealing so Fargo took the Ovaro and the sorrel along.
    Geraldine appeared to be disappointed that she had no one to shoot. “All they did was stare at us.”
    â€œYou don’t know when you’re well off.” Fargo was growing annoyed by her thickheadedness.
    â€œI just don’t understand. Apaches are bloodthirsty monsters. Everybody knows that. Yet they haven’t tried to kill us.”
    â€œWe stick around long enough, they might change their minds.”
    â€œYou’re not the least bit funny.”
    â€œWho’s trying to be?” Fargo came to a halt.
    â€œWhy did you stop?”
    Fargo pointed at the mortal remains of the late Major Henry Waxler. “Isn’t he why we’re here?”
    Geraldine gasped and put a hand to her throat. Rushing over, she dropped to her knees. “Hank! Oh, Hank,” she cried, and buried her face in his shoulder.
    One thing Fargo could say, the woman wasn’t squeamish. She didn’t seem to mind that the vultures had been at her beloved. One eye had been plucked out, and the major’s nose and a cheek were in strips and pieces.
    Geraldine commenced to sob, deeply and bitterly.
    All Fargo could do was wait her grief out. He stood guard, acutely aware that any moment might bring the crash of guns and the yip of war whoops. He was as mystified as Geraldine as to why the Apaches lit out like they did. It was out of character for them to slaughter the detail, then let a lone man and woman live.
    Eventually, Geraldine’s sobs dwindled to groans and sniffles. Raising her head, she dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. “I am about cried out.”
    â€œThen let’s fan the breeze.”
    â€œI want to take Hank with us.”
    â€œThe soldiers at the fort will bring all the bodies back.” Fargo hankered to get out of there while they still could. He was sure unseen eyes were on them.
    â€œWhen? Tomorrow? The day after?” Geraldine shook her head. “By then there won’t be much left. We take him with us or I don’t go.”
    Once again Fargo’s temper flared. “It will slow us down.”
    â€œNot if you put Hank over my horse and let me ride double with you.”
    Fargo would just as soon throw
her
over her horse, but he gave in. The sooner they were under way, the better. In swift order he hoisted the major onto the sorrel, belly down, and ran rope under the sorrel, from Waxler’s wrists to his ankles, to keep the body from sliding off.
    Swinging onto the Ovaro, Fargo held out his hand to Geraldine. She clambered on without a word and looped an arm around his waist.
    â€œThank you,” she said in his ear.
    Fargo didn’t breathe easy until they’d gone a half mile, and even then, he checked behind them, often.
    Geraldine was unusually quiet. He’d given her the lead rope to hold, and she must have put a crick in her neck staring sorrowfully at her husband’s body.
    â€œHe was lucky to have a woman like you,” Fargo remarked at one point.
    â€œWhat makes you say that?” she asked without taking her gaze from the major.
    â€œI’ve met women