was starting to set and the sky was aflame, he saw another dust cloud and stiffened. Squinting into the dying sun, Longarm stared until his eyes watered and he was sure that the second body of riders were United States cavalrymen. He knew that because one of the riders had a brass bugle and it glinted like burnished copper in the dying sun.
Longarm jammed a cheroot into his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully for a few minutes before he climbed down to the woman and the horses.
'Wake up, Lucy. It's time to ride.'
She had been sleeping so soundly that she started when he touched her arm.
'Easy,' he said. 'We've got to make tracks, Lucy. There's no water here and the horses are thirsty.'
'All right,' she said, yawning and coming to her feet.
Longarm tightened their cinches and helped Lucy onto her roan mare. The mare was clearly suffering for water, and Longarm's gelding wasn't doing a whole lot better.
'There's a little mining settlement about ten miles ahead,' Longarm drawled. 'It's called Rimrock and we can get food, water, and a room there for the night.'
'I can hardly wait,' Lucy said.
It was well past midnight when they finally dragged into Rimrock, and even the flattering glow of moonlight could not hide the devastation left by the marauding Apache.
'Hold up there!' an army private called, raising his weapon. 'Who goes there!'
'U.S. deputy Marshal Custis Long out of Denver, Longarm responded to the shadowy figure guarding the pillaged town and the army camp.
'Your badge, sir?'
Longarm dismounted and dragged out his badge, saying, 'Who's in charge here, Private?'
'Sergeant Wilder, sir!'
'Why don't you take Mrs. Ortega and me to the sergeant.'
'Yes, sir!' But the private did not move. He was too busy staring at Lucy. 'Who's she?'
'My prisoner.'
'Your prisoner?'
'That's right. Now, why don't you lower your voice before we wake up everyone in camp and then take me to Sergeant Wilder.'
'What happened here?' Lucy blurted out, her eyes fixed on the line of fresh grave mounds.
'The Apache hit 'em at daybreak,' the soldier explained. 'A boy of about fourteen, scared half out of his wits, managed to sneak off into the brush and reach our fort. He told us what happened. But by the time we got here, it was too late to help anybody. There were seventeen killed. Six were women and-'
'Never mind the death count or the details,' Longarm said abruptly. 'Do you know who was leading the raid?'
'An Apache called Red Shirt. He's a bad one and we want him bad, but he raids and then escapes across the Mexican border where we can't follow.'
'Did he take any women or children hostage?'
'We think so because a few of the younger ones are missing, according to the boy that escaped.'
Lucy slid off her horse and had to hang onto her saddlehorn because she was so weary.
'Private, lead me to your sergeant,' Longarm ordered.
'Yes, sir,' the soldier said, coming to attention. He was obviously a green recruit and trying to do everything by the book. That would soon change.
Sergeant Wilder was snoring loudly when the private entered his tent. Longarm overheard their terse conversation.
'Sergeant, there's a United States deputy marshal outside and he wants to talk to you.'
'A who?' a groggy voice replied.
'A deputy United States marshal.'
'Yeah. Yeah. Tell him to go to sleep and come see me in the morning.'
The private emerged from the tent. He shrugged and said 'The sergeant ...'
'I heard him and his advice was sensible,' Longarm said. He studied the army camp and guessed there were only five or six soldiers there. The others had obviously been pulled off to chase Red Shirt and his followers in the futile hope of rescuing white hostages.
Longarm led their horses over to a spring and watered them before he tied them to a picket line and removed the saddlebags and bedrolls.
'We've got some beans and sourdough bread,' the private said. 'If you're hungry.'
'We are,' Lucy said.
'Then follow me, miss!'
The private was more than happy to lead them over to the campfire, where a pot of congealed beans and
