Apache Canyon

She interrupted: "Aren't you forming a hasty conclusion, George?"

"No," he said. "I don't beheve I am. I beHeve you are strongly attracted to him-and I mean to put a stop to it. I mean to show him up for what he is. I mean to prove myself a better man than Justin Harris."

"You don t have to do that, George," she said quietly.

"I feel I do," he said stijffly. "One thing a man must have from his wife is respect."

"Of course," she said. Her tone was dry.

His eyes flashed toward her. "Don't mock me, Eleanorl"

Her brows lifted. "Am I mocking you?"

He stepped toward her. His arms half-lifted; he stood before her, working his Hps, plainly on the verge of breaking. His glance traveled the length of her supple body, and something powerful and bitter came into his eyes. Then he wheeled, buckled his pistol belt about him, put on his hat, and strode to the door. Holding it open, he paused long enough to say, "I'll eat out tonight-at the Officers' Kitchen." And left.

Silence became a thickness surround the woman. She moved to the window and stood with her arms folded, looking out into the dusty afternoon as the low sun cast long, sharp-edged shadows along the ground.

Major Cole stood on the porch of his office, shading his eyes against the long slanting rays of the sun, and when he saw Sutherland walk out of the house, he lifted his voice and called: "Captain-can you come over here a minute?"

Sutherland came up, saluting smartly. "Yes, sir." "Come inside," the major said, and led the way past McCracken s desk into his own office. As usual, Sutherland closed the thin, dry door behind him; and as usual, the major smiled slightly. With this ritual accompUshed, he sat down behind his desk and said, "Lieutenant Garrett should be coming in with his scouting patrol. Depending on what information he brings, and whatever word I may receive from Sherman's headquarters, I may want you to take out the next patrol."

"Yes, sir," Sutherland said. "I beheve it's my turn, sir."

"That's right." The major leaned back in his chair, tilting it on two legs. He considered the bruise on Sutherland's cheek, the cut by his mouth, and said nothing about these. He had seen Captain Harris a few hours ago, similarly bruised. What he said was, "At ease. Captain. I want to caution you about one

Sutherland straightened. "Yes, sir?

"The last time you took a patrol on scout," the major said, "you returned two days overdue. I was ready to send a large force into the field under Captain Harris, since I had had no word from you."

"I sent back a courier, sir," Sutherland said stiffly. "Unfortunately, he was cut off by the Indians. I had no way of knowing that. I was hot on Inyo's track and it was my judgment that it would be best to pursue him, on the chance he might make a stand."

"In which case," the major rephed mildly, "you'd have been wiped out. Captain. Inyo will not make a stand until he knows the circumstances are all in his favor. Until then—until he draws us into a trap—hell keep on ru

"It seems a cowardly way to fight, doesn't it, sir?"

The major shrugged. "I'd say it was more smart than cowardly. My advice to you is this: your orders are to patrol the area roundabout this post, in a radius of fifty miles. In the future, you will confine yourself to those limits. Your mission is to reco

Sutherland flushed. "Yes, sir."

"Very well," Major Cole said. "That's all. Captain."

Sutherland saluted, about-faced, and left. Shaking his head, the major put his chair down and went into the front office. "McCracken."

The sergeant-major's jowls shook when his face moved. "Sir?"

"Any word of Brady?"

"No, sir. He ain't come back yet."

The major nodded. "Damn it, I wonder where he went?"

"He's a loner, sir. Likes to ride off by himself now and then. I wouldn't be worryin' about him. Major."

"No," the major said, "I suppose not." He nodded again, thoughtfully, and went back into his office.

Twihght eddied in violet sweeps over the land pockets; the crescent moon lay at a low angle over the horizon. Brady lay on the rock shelf and squinted down the hill into a rapidly oncoming darkness. The Apaches had made forays twice, feelng him out; he had wounded one man and, he thought, killed one with his rifle. He expected the main attack to come before the last of daylight seeped from the sky. After dark, the warrior's spirit if he was killed could not find its way to heaven.

His eyes grew narrow. Down the slope, the rocks were dark and their shadows might conceal anything. Farther off, beyond the base of the hill he could see the browsing shapes of the hobbled ponies. Three or four of the Apaches sat complacently around a tiny campfire, roasting a rabbit. There was no telling where the rest of the Indians might be. Brady dropped flat again, woimed to the edge of the chff, removed his hat and looked dovm.

As he had suspected, one patient sentry sat cross-legged out in the desert, some distance from the base of the cliff, watching that exit. There were no men attempting to climb the sheer face.

His own horse the Indians had picked up, led away, and staked out wdth their horses.

There must be nine or ten Coyotero bucks in the rocks below, in addition to the four by the campfire. Were they simply starving him out or did they intend to attack him? He couldn t know.

To let them know he wasn't asleep, he aimed his rifle at the distant campfire, lifted the sights and pulled off a shot.

By a lucky accident the bullet plowed deadcenter into the campfire, scattering sparks. The four braves around the fire moved like staitled antelopes, scut-tling swiftly away into the brush, leaving the carcass of the half-cooked rabbit to char and burn in the flames. Brady gri

Some distance away, he saw dark shapes filter out of the brush, gathering together. A conference. He frowned. The sky darkened by several perceptible degrees more, after which the council broke up and eight or nine Apaches went to their horses, made ready to leave, and mounted. Then, in the last faint of dying dusk, one of the mounted bucks lifted his rifle, shook it in Brady's direction, spoke a quick command and wheeled his horse. The others followed, drumming away across the desert; and presently all sound and sight of their travel died away.

Brady's frown had deepened. The Coyoteros obviously had bigger game than him in mind for the night-and he was suspicious of their goal. They had ridden off in the direction of the Smoke River. It suggested something to him, and he knew he had to get out of this trap.

He put his mind on it. It shouldn't be impossible. Behind the mountain, watching the cliff, was one brave. Down below in the rocks, keeping him down, were four, or at most five, others. One of them would be the wounded one. He slid back once more and crawled to the edge of the chff, dragging his rifle with him.

The sentry was perhaps five hundred yards away--a long, long way for a rifle shot. But it was not absolutely essential that he hit the sentry; all he had to do was raise a ruckus. He lifted the Winchester to his cheek, made a rough calculation for distance trajectory, and pulled the trigger.

The bullet missed the sentry. He levered a new cartridge into the chamber and peered off into the