Apache Canyon

"Then they're waiting for nightfall," Brady said. He sat with his back to the side of the fireplace. Red light, reflected from the flames, rippled along the side of his trousers. He ran a cleaning rag tlirough the bore of his rifle and inspected it, and began reloading the magazine while he watched the steady rise and fall of Tucker's chest.

In the dim corner beyond, Sutherland stood with his back straight and his arms folded recalcitrantly over his chest. His eyes avoided meeting anyone's glance. Harris was leaning in a dejected pose against one wall, head propped on his hand and elbow to the wall; Rubio and Yeager and two of the younger boys were on guard and the two other boys were in the kitchen with their mother. It was, Brady thought idly, an odd conglomeration of people, to say the least. His belly was heavy, satisfied; laconic as she was, Yeager's wife was a fine cook.

With no particular apparent interest, Harris said, "What does the weather look like, Rubio?"

"Clearing up. Won't be as, dark a night as we'd like."

Harris nodded with a certain reservation. Brady was working on his tenth cigarette of the afternoon. Waiting made him edgy. He poked a twig into the fireplace and used its burning tip to Hght his smoke, and tossed the twig into the fire.

Suddenly George Sutherland pushed himself out from the corner. Brady looked at him. Sutherland had been working himself up to something all afternoon; that much had been easy to see. Now it was coming. Sutherland walked across the room with de-hberate strides toward Harris, and came to a halt within arm's length of him. "I want to talk to you."

"We've got nothing to talk about," Harris told him levelly.

"You've wrong," Sutherland said flatly. "None of this changes anything."

"Are you talking about your wife?" lam. "IVe told you before. I had nothing to do with her." "He's telling the truth," Brady said. "Go back to your comer and shut up."

Sutherland wheeled. "How do you know so much about this? For a two-bit buckskin scout, you seem pretty well informed."

Brady stood up, uncoiling his length without hurry. "Sure," he said. "Eleanor's not interested in Captain Harris." He watched the recoil of Sutherland's face against his use of the woman's first name; he showed Sutherland his savage grin and used his words like a whip to punish Sutherland: "I'm the man you've been looking for, Sutherland. I'm the one who almost talked your wife into ru

"Of course," Sutherland breathed. "I should have known. If she was to turn to anyone, it would have been somebody like you—an irresponsible, footloose tough. I should have knovm," he growled-and Brady saw his hand clawing at the holster flap.

Brady's gun was half-drawn when Harris's hand swept forward, batting the lifting revolver away from Sutherland's fist. The gun clattered to the floor out of reach. Sutherland whirled; HaiTis said mildly, "That's the kmd of thing we might expect from you. I think you're sick, George. I don't think there's any room in the army for you."

Sutherland glared at him in helpless rage; he wheeled again, facing Brady across the distance between them. His voice sounded half-choked: "You— you!"

Brady let his gun fall back into leather; he unbuckled his gunbelt and let it drop. "Come ahead, if you've a mind to." His own voice sounded weary.

Sutherland chewed on his rage a moment longer, then broke into a clattering nm, charging. As he came past blindly, his heavy boot almost rammed into Tucker's head. That uncaring action broke the last of Brady's self-control, so that he stood finally as fully angry as Sutherland. His Ups peeled back from his teeth and instead of dodging Sutherland's charging rush, he stood his ground and measured the distance. Choosing the moment carefully, he rammed his fist straight-aim into Sutherland's face.

It was a cruel blow; it flattened Sutherland's nose, making blood spurt from it; Brady felt the cartilege - crush under his fist.

Sutherland wheeled back. Looking down at Tucker, Brady knew this would not do. In spite of his hot raging temper, he backed away from Sutherland, thus leading the man across the length of the ; room until they were both safely away from Tucker. Then set his feet and lifted his guard and stood awaiting Sutherland's attack.

The savagery of Sutherland's contorted face was heightened by the blood that matted his nose and hps and dripped from his chin. He roared incoherently and plowed ahead until Brady once more struck him a blow that set him back on his heels, jarring his entire body. The shock of it must have warned Sutherland, for he grew abruptly calm and lifted his fists cautiously, and began to circle around Brady, moving on the balls of his feet, slightly bent forward. Brady waited for him, heat glaring in his eyes.

He had fleetiag glimpses of the others—Harris, Yeager, Rubio, and the two boys, even Tucker--watching them and holding their distance; he kept his attention on Sutherland, and as Sutherland gradually circled closer, he began a duel of jabbing blows with Sutherland. The officer outweighed him by a few pounds, but they were both big-boned men and evenly matched.

This, though, was the first fist fight Brady had ever entered when he felt a driving desire to maim and kill his opponent.

His anger had settled, into a cool and calculating shrewdness by now; he aimed each blow with care and made effective use of his guard and felt for a while that he was gradually getting the better of Sutherland, until Sutherland suddenly changed his method of attack and rushed in, ignoilng Brady's blows, locking him in a viselike hug and dancing him around. Brady shifted his hips to avoid Sutherland's lifting knee; he felt the powerful arms restricting his breath, and he stamped his foot down against Sutherland's instep.

It broke the man's hold, bent him over, and made of him a target that no one could miss. Brady's fist came up from hip-level and pounded like a hammer into Sutherland's lowered face. Punishing an aheady crushed area, it rocked Sutherland back and made him howl. Brady pressed him relentlessly, pounding a quick rataplan of hard-knuckled fists against Sutherland's midriff. Sutherland's guard was ineffective; with fierce anger Brady kept bringing the fight to him, so that Sutherland could not escape him. His fists became twin pistons, battering Sutherland with wicked regularity; with each blow he made a little restitution for McQuade, for Brophy, for Barnett.

A red haze swirled before his eyes; he reaUzed in a foggy way that they had him in a grip, that Harris and Rubio were holding his arms, and tliat Harris was shouting in his ear: "For God's sake, that's enough, Will! Let him alone!"

His body sagged. "All right," he said in a broken voice. The haze drifted away from his vision and he saw Sutherland against the wall, his mouth open and his eyes closed, a broken tootli and blood oozing out of a mass of cuts and bruises; Sutherland shd slowly down the wall and rolled onto his side and brought his knees up against the pain. Little mmmuring cries came steadily from the man's chest.

"Did I do that?" Brady asked weakly. His knuckles burned and throbbed.

"I think it's enough, for a while," Rubio said dryly. "Fu

"Are you all right now?" Harris said in a worried tone.

"Yeah," he said bitingly. "I'm fine." And when Harris turned to kneel by Sutherland, he wheeled angrily and went back across the room to pick up his gunbelt.