The Bounty Hunters

"What would you do, David, besides kick his francis from here to Prescott?" He nodded toward Deneen.

Fly

"And prospect?"

"Maybe."

"For what?"

Fly

"I thought so," Madora said. "Well…it'd be a nice living." He looked at Deneen again. "And I wouldn't see how you'd have anything further to prove as far as he's concerned."

Fly

Fly

Nothing moved in the trees. He glanced around quickly seeing Madora and beyond him the Mimbrenos swerving their ponies, racing down through the wide aisle between the pines and the trees they had come out of.

"They don't want us!"

And off to the left, far out, were mounted men. They had been coming along the road that, ahead, would skirt the cemetery, but now momentarily they stood holding their horses, almost a dozen riders, watching the Apaches bearing down on them…then as one they spurred, breaking for the village off beyond the trees.

"They were waiting for them all the time!"

"Joe, that's Lazair's men!"

"God Almighty they don't have a chance!"

"Joe!"

Madora's head jerked toward Fly

"God Almighty…rurales!"

Fly

And there it was. Cavalry! Cavalry out of the Manual. Charging, full-glory cavalry used the way it should be, the way you dream about it but seldom see it. Something out of Cooke's Tactics. And it was all there as Fly

And as suddenly as it had started, it was over. Some Apaches, perhaps a dozen, had broken free and were streaking off in the distance; many were on the ground, horses and men, scattered over the meadow; and there were those who had given up. They sat their ponies sullenly with their hands raised in the air, herded into groups, rurales circling each group with carbines ready.

Then Bowers was coming toward them, holding his mount to an easy trot, the saber flashing in the sunlight; but he saw the naked figure hanging from the tree and he guided the left rein in that direction.

Madora was gri

Fly

That was enough, just knowing they were coming, and knowing what they would do from seeing the man strung up across the meadow. That finished him, Fly

"Joe…look here."

Madora was silent for some time looking at Deneen slumped against the tree. The face was beyond recognition, the pistol barrel still jammed into his mouth, his hand still on the trigger. Then Madora shook his head slowly. "When did he do that?"

"Right after you yelled. I remember hearing a shot close, but I thought it was you."

Madora shook his head again. "Just think, if he'd a put that off one minute he'd be bitchin' at us for something right now."

"Maybe," Fly

Madora said, looking up, "Here comes Bowers," and moved out to the edge of the trees.

Fly

Madora was calling, "Red, where in hell did you get that sword?"

Bowers was dismounting as Fly

Fly

Bowers smiled half self-consciously, even in his cavalry pose, hand resting on the sword hilt. "Santana and I talked for a long time last night," he said. "We discussed again the battle of Cinco de Mayo at Puebla. We talked of Santana's military ability-about which he wasn't the least bit restrained-then we got around to Gettysburg-the second day, if the memory of my father's words serves me correctly-and I told him about an incident during the Culp's Hill skirmish."

Bowers squinted. "Now I think it was Geary's division of Slocum's XII Corps holding the hill, with Ewell's rebel division pi

"How did Duro react?" Fly

"Duro's dead. He ran for it during the night. Hilario was watching then…he told him to stop, but Duro kept going, so he shot him. Hilario said someone else ran out ahead of Duro. We've been trying to figure out who it could be." Bowers jerked his thumb over his shoulder vaguely pointing across the meadow. "We didn't even think of him, but that's who it must have been."