“Unauthorized absence,” Gibson said. “We didn’t desert. You keep sayin’ we deserted like that and you
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t worry none ’bout us gettin’ hung, Gibson,” Carter said, all the humor suddenly gone from his voice. “We prob’ly ain’t goin’ to live that long.”
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“Over there,” Carter said, pointing to the next ridgeline.
“Holy shit.”
Six Apache Indians were coming toward them, riding fast and spread out in a long line.
“Hell, there’s just six of ’em,” Gibson said, pulling his pistol. “We’ll take cover behind those rocks over there.”
“Corporal, I only got about three bullets in my gun,” Wilson said.
“I’ve got a box of ammunition in my saddlebag,” Carter said.
“Forget it, Carter,” Gibson said, holding out his hand to stop him. “You’ll never make it to your horse.”
The Apaches opened fire and bullets began frying the air around the three soldiers, hitting the rocks alongside, then whining off behind them.
The Indians began riding back and forth in front of them. They were excellent horsemen, and as they passed by in front, they would lean down behind their horses, always managing to keep their horses between them and the soldiers.
The three returned fire and for the next several seconds, the valley rang with the echo of gunfire.
“I’m out of shells!” Wilson screamed in panic.
Carter fired, then pulled the trigger to fire again. His hammer fell on an empty chamber.
“Damn! I am too!”
“I saved three bullets,” Gibson said pointedly.
“Saved three bullets? What do you mean?” Wilson asked. “Three bullets ain’t goin’ to do us no good! There’s six of them!”
“But there’s only three of us,” Gibson said pointedly.
“Three of us? What do you mean?”
“Let’s do it,” Carter said, understanding immediately what Gibson was talking about. He got down on his knees, crossed himself, then bowed his head.
Seeing him, Wilson realized what was about to happen.
“Oh, shit,” Wilson said quietly, shaking his head. “Oh, shit, no. We can’t do this!”
“Johnny, trust me, you don’t want those heathens to take you alive,” Gibson said. It was the first time he had ever called the young soldier by his first name.
“Do it, Mickey,” Carter said to Gibson. “Do it before it’s too late.”
Gibson looked at Wilson.
Wilson’s bottom lip was trembling, but he nodded his head in the affirmative. “Yes,” he said. “Do it.”
“God be with us, boys,” Gibson said. He put the gun to Wilson’s temple and pulled the trigger.
“Hurry, Mickey, hurry!” Carter said.
Gibson shot Carter. After that, he put the barrel in his mouth and squeezed the trigger.
The hammer fell on an empty chamber.
Nothing!
Had he miscounted?
He tried again, still nothing.
By now the Apache realized what he was doing and, incensed by being cheated of their prisoners, they rushed him.
“No!” Gibson screamed. He grabbed one of the pickaxes they had been working with and had the fleeting satisfaction of burying it halfway into the head of one of the Indians. But before he could pull it out, he was jumped on by three more, and despite his struggles, they were able to subdue him, tying his hands and feet with rawhide.
Falcon stood in the stirrups for a moment, just to stretch away his saddle ache, then urged his horse on. That was when he saw the vultures.
They were circling too warily, too cautiously, for it to be a small animal. And there were far too many for them to be attracted to one thing.
Falcon had seen them gather like this before, over the battlefields during the war in which he and his brothers had fought on opposite sides. He’d seen them since the war as well, during his wanderings through the West. Slapping his legs against the side of his horse, he hurried it on for the next mile until he saw what was attracting the vulture’s attention.
Three naked bodies lay white and bloating in the sun. Two of the bodies were just lying there, and one of those he recognized as Private Wilson, the young private who had challenged him and Sheriff Corbin at the gate when they visited Fort Lowell. Private Wilson and the man lying beside them were not mutilated in any way. Both had gunshot wounds in the temple, the bullet holes black with encrusted blood.
