Suddenly the desert split right open ahead of us, a deep cut maybe eight or ten feet across. I saw Dorset jump her horse, and I slapped spurs to mine and that black took to flying as if it was second nature. We both landed safe and swung down into a hollow, raced across it and up the other side, and into a forest of cholla where our horses swung right and left and about through that prickly stuff.
We leveled out in the open and put them to a run, and when we finally got them slowed down we had made it away ... for now.
Looking back, I could see nothing behind us. We had come several miles, and now we walked the horses under some cedars whilst I unlimbered my Winchester, checked it again, and returned it to the scabbard. Then I reloaded both my six-shooters. I could remember shooting four to five tunes, but eight shots had been fired, showing I'd been doubling up. I had no recollection of having drawn the second gun, but I surely had. When I'd reloaded, I moved alongside Dorset.
She was holding the youngster on the saddle in front of her. 'What happened to the others?' I asked. 'They got away. Harry is like a little Apache himself.
When those men came up he just disappeared into the brush with the others.'
'Let's hope he made it.'
The country was changing now. It was much more broken, but there was also more growth. There had been a desert shower, one of those sudden rains that sometimes deluge only a small area and then vanish. This one had left water standing in the bottoms of the washes and in hollows atop the rocks. It had filled the desert tanks, so we watered the horses.
My eyes felt like hot lumps in my skull, and they seemed to move with incredible slowness when I turned to look around. My fingers felt stiff, and I worked them and tried to loosen them up. My mouth was dry, and after I'd drunk it was dry again in a few minutes.
All of a sudden I was dead tired again. All the days of driving ahead, running, fighting, and worrying a way out were beginning to catch up with me. But we started on.
The horses plodded ahead, dazed with weariness. Several times I found myself dozing in the saddle, each time I'd wake up with a start of fear, and look all around. My mind seemed to be in a state of despair. Spanish was dead ... Tampico Rocca was dead ... where was John J.?
It would soon be dark, and if we expected to make the border we had to find a place to stop for rest. If it had to be, we ourselves could keep going, but not the horses, and without them our chances were gone. 'Do you think they're following us?' Dorset asked. 'I don't know,' I answered, and said no more. The sun disappeared and shadows gathered in the folded hills. The shadows lifted questioning fingers, stark against the yellow sky. The quail began to talk across the silences, the wind stirred, rustling the dry leaves on the parched brush. Our horses' hoofs whispered in the sand.
A lone coyote showed for an instant, then like a shadow was gone, leaving no more sign than an Apache. A few stars began to appear ... one bright one was low in the sky, and held steady. Time to time I looked at it, and finally I said, 'That there's a light. A fire, maybe.' Dorset turned her head to look. 'It's not an Indian fire,' she said.
We drew up, and I turned, standing in my stirrups to look back.
'It might be the Haddens,' I said. She glanced at me. 'After you finished with them? What you didn't get, the Apaches got. You took two of them, I'd swear.
Maybe three.'
Well, maybe. I wasn't making any claims. I never was one to file notches on a gun ... a tinhorn trick.
'Shall we try for it?' I said. 'It's closer than the border. And the border never meant anything to an Apache except that south of it he was free of the American troops.'
'We can scout it,' Dorset answered. She swung her pony and headed toward the fire.
The yellow sky faded into gray and velvety dark. Even before we came up to it, I could see it was an Army fire ... it looked big because there were three of them in line. It was a Cavalry troop of maybe forty men. We pulled up and I hailed the camp.
'Howdy, there. Is it all right to come in? There's a woman and a child with me.'
Silence ...
It was a long moment, and I guess somebody was trying to make us out with field glasses, though now there was not much light.
'All right,' came the answer. 'Ride in. Ride carefully.'
I knew that voice. It was Captain Lewiston. Lieutenant Jack Davis stood beside him.
Lewiston looked from me to Dorset Binny. He tipped his hat 'How do you do, ma'am. We have been worried for you.'
'I'm all right. Thanks to Mr. Sackett.'
'Did you come upon any other youngsters, Cap'n?' I asked. 'Harry Brook and the Creed youngsters?'
'They're here, and they're safe. That's why we waited for you.'
We walked our horses into camp and swung down. I staggered when I hit ground, and Lewiston was beside me. 'Here, man, you'd better sit down.'
'Got to care for my horse. You take the lady and the child, Cap'n, I -- '
'No.' Lewiston's tone was suddenly stern. He turned. 'Corporal, take this man's horse. See that it is cared for just as mine is. The others also.'
He turned back to me. 'Sackett, I regret to inform you that you are under arrest.'
Me, I just looked at him. 'For crossing the border? Cap'n, Laura Sackett told me her son had been taken by the Apaches.'
'She has no son!' Davis spoke sharply. 'Sackett, that's a damned -- '
Lewiston's voice cracked like a whip. 'Lieutenant!'
Davis stopped, his face flushed. 'I tell you, Captain, this man is -- '
'Silence! Lieutenant Davis, I suggest you inspect the guard. Whatever needs to be said to Mr. Sackett, I will say.'
Davis turned on his heel and stalked away. 'Forgive him, Sackett. He's young and I'm afraid he's smitten by Laura Sackett. He is very proud, and he feels he must defend her honor.'
'Let him defend it, Cap'n, but keep him away from me. Him being new to the country I might not shoot him, but I am afraid if he said what he started to say he'd be shy a good many teeth.'
'There will be no fighting. You seem to have forgotten, Sackett. You are under arrest.'
Well, I just walked over to the fire and sat down. Then I dug into my gear which had been dropped there and got out my cup. Reaching for the pot, I poured coffee.
'All right, Cap'n,' I said, 'you tell me about it. Why are you arresting me?'
'You are under arrest for murder. You are under arrest for the murder of Billy Higgins.'
'Higgins?'
'We found his body out on the Yuma road. He had been shot in the head.'
'Among other things,' I said, 'the Apaches wounded him, and then they shot him full of splinters.' 'But you killed him.'
'That's right, I did.' Carefully, with several men standing about, I told him what had happened that day. Some of it I'd told him before, back in the Shoo-Fly when he told me about Kahtenny.
'He begged me to shoot him. Under the same situation I'd have done the same, more than likely.'
'Perhaps.' Lewiston looked hard at me. 'Sackett, is it not true that your family feuded for years with a family named Higgins? That you hunted each other and killed each other on sight?'
'That was over years ago,' I said. 'Anyway, I ain't been back in that country since the war. As for this Higgins, I never gave it no thought. It's been a good while since I've had any cause to think of it.'
'Nevertheless, Billy Higgins is dead, killed by your bullet. I have to warn you, Sackett, the story is out, and there's considerable feeling in Tucson. Higgins had friends there.'
'But I tell you, I -- '
'Don't tell me. Tell the jury.' He walked away from me, and I sat there by the fire, a-staring into it. I'd run a long way. I'd fought some hard fights. I'd stood off the Apaches and the Haddens, and now here I was, arrested for a crime that was no crime, but a crime they could hang me for.
And there was only one person in Tucson likely to know about that old Higgins-Sackett feud.
