Warpath Read online

  Lobo climbed down from his horse and shook hands American-style with Ralph McIntyre and Bob. Then he bowed and murmured a polite greeting to Peggy. Finally he introduced Juanita and John Stone to the McIntyres.

  Ralph McIntyre studied Stone as they shook hands. “You look like you’ve been run over by a herd of cattle.”

  “I had a difference of opinion with another gentleman, you might say.”

  “Looks like he damn near killed you.” Ralph McIntyre turned to Lobo. “Where you headed?”

  “Tucson, but John Stone’s horse needs a shoe. Think you can fix us up?”

  “There’s shoes in the barn — help yourself. Dinner’ll be served in about another hour. How’s your father?”

  “I have not seen him for a long time.”

  “Why not?”

  Lobo turned away, to lead the horses to the barn and avoid Ralph McIntyre’s questions. Stone went with him, leaving Juanita standing uncertainly in the yard. Peggy took her hand. “C’mon into the house. You can get cleaned up.”

  Peggy led Juanita to the house, and Tom looked at Juanita’s shapely figure.

  “Wonder why Lobo ain’t seen his father for a while?” Ralph McIntyre said, rubbing his stubbled chin with the tips of his fingers. “Something must’ve happened. Hope it wasn’t serious.”

  The Apache raiding party crawled through the high grass, heading toward the McIntyre ranch. They’d seen Lobo arrive with the two strangers and saw Lobo and the white eyes take their horses to the barn. A total of eight people were in the vicinity, counting the women and the newcomers, and Coyotero had twenty-four warriors. He expected a fast easy fight, and then plenty of loot.

  Coyotero was overjoyed to have Lobo nearby, because he considered Lobo his mortal enemy. All his life, even when he was a little boy, he’d hated Lobo because Lobo was the son of Jacinto, and one day Lobo could be expected to become chief of the tribe.

  Coyotero thought he was a better man than Lobo, and he deserved to be chief because of his fighting skill and intelligence. He considered Lobo weak-minded because Lobo had never been especially eager to go to war. Lobo liked to sit alone on the desert in the middle of the night and look at the stars, and had been overly polite to the old fools who called themselves medicine men, fools like Red Feather. Worst of all, everybody liked Lobo, while everybody feared Coyotero.

  Coyotero thought his ascension to chief of the tribe would be assured if he killed Lobo, and now Lobo was within his grasp. No one would stop him from killing Lobo this time.

  Before entering the tall grass, he’d given orders to his warriors. When they attacked, they were to kill everybody except Lobo and Peggy. Coyotero wanted the pleasure of killing Lobo himself, and Peggy would become his slave. Coyotero smiled as he crawled silently through the grass. This is my lucky day.

  While the food cooked, Juanita helped Peggy set the long table in the dining room.

  “Why are you going to Tucson?” Peggy asked, placing a plate at the head of the table, where her father customarily sat.

  “Bandidos are after us,” Juanita said. “John Stone killed Rodrigo, their leader, in a knife fight.”

  “What did they fight about?”

  “Me.”

  “Really?”

  Juanita described the events leading to the fight, while down the hall Ralph McIntyre listened in his office. He knew who Rodrigo was and had suspected him and his men of rustling some of the Double M cattle over the years, but Rodrigo never rustled that much, and McIntyre never had been able to catch him.

  “After Stone kill Rodrigo with his knife,” Juanita continued, “Rodrigo’s men started shooting. Stone would have been killed, but the Indian saved his life. Then all three of us leave pronto.”

  “How did Stone know Lobo?” Peggy asked.

  “I do not think they ever saw each other until that night.”

  Peggy wasn’t surprised by the story, because it was similar to other stories she’d heard throughout her life. People always were getting shot and knifed in nearby towns, Apaches always were massacring ranchers and settlers, bandits stole everything that wasn’t nailed down, and the cavalry chased the Apaches all over the desert, usually never finding them.

  “John Stone is one tough hombre,” Juanita said as she placed a fork beside a plate. “I never thought the man lived who could kill Rodrigo, but John Stone did it. I would not be standing here right now if it was not for John Stone.”

  The Apaches crawled closer to the ranch. Black Bear and Eagle Claw, the two former disciples of Red Feather, were side by side ten feet behind Coyotero, and they continually looked at each other in a troubled way, because they’d weren’t happy about Coyotero’s murder of Red Feather.

  Black Bear and Eagle Claw wanted horses and guns, but they were disturbed by the way Coyotero had choked Red Feather to death. Red Feather had been a respected medicine man with supernatural powers. He’d cured the sick and predicted the future, and was believed to be in communion with the mountain spirits.

  Black Bear and Eagle Claw had been taken by surprise when Coyotero grabbed Red Feather by the throat. They’d wanted to intervene, but were afraid of Coyotero, and Red Feather had been dead before they’d made up their minds about what to do.

  It was bad luck to kill a medicine man. Coyotero flaunted Apache traditions whenever he felt like it, but Yusn never punished him. Coyotero grew stronger and more powerful all the time. His raids were always successful, and raiding was an essential component of Apache economic life. The mountain spirits approved of what Coyotero did, since they gave him so much success, but Coyotero had choked Red Feather to death, and Red Feather had been a great medicine man.

  A horse whinnied in the distance, and the Apaches thought of the horses in the corral. Each had visited the McIntyre ranch in the past and admired the many fine horses. Soon they’d own the horses, and horses were wealth to the Apaches. They’d have new weapons too, and a good weapon could be the difference between life and death.

  Black Bear and Eagle Claw were afraid, and so were several of the other Apaches in the raiding party. They weren’t afraid of dying because they were warriors to the core and death was their constant companion. Their fear was of the unknown world ruled by the spirits, who might be offended by the murder of Red Feather.

  None of the warriors dared stand up to Coyotero, and it would be cowardly to turn back from a raid after having made preparations for it. They all wanted horses and guns, and they all hated the white eyes. They agreed with Coyotero that the white eyes must be fought wherever they were found, and no peace was possible with them. They even believed that the McIntyres were fair game, for the McIntyres were white eyes, and the white eyes were crushing life out of the Apache people.

  They crept onward through the peaceful afternoon, while ahead of them, in the ranch house, the McIntyre family and their guests were sitting down to dinner.

  The table was covered with pots and serving dishes, and delicious aromas filled the air as Ralph McIntyre said grace, his big gnarled red hands clasped together. “Lord,” he said, “we thank You for the bounty of this table, for we know all good things come from You. Please bless this food and drink, and we hope it will give us the strength to do Your will. Amen. Dig in, folks.”

  Martha McIntyre, a stout woman who wore eyeglasses, removed the covers from the pots and serving dishes, which were passed around the table. The main course was a huge roast beef swimming in gravy, garnished with potatoes and carrots. A loaf of freshly baked bread sat on a board in the middle of the table, beside a tub of cow butter.

  Stone was wearing a clean shirt that Ralph McIntyre had given him. It had two pockets with buttoned flaps and was made of dark green canvas.

  “Where are you from, Mr. Stone?” Ralph McIntyre asked, slicing into his meat.

  “South Carolina — not far from Columbia. How about you?”

  “I was born in Arkansas, but my daddy came here when I was small. He started this ranch, and I’m doing my best to keep it going.
”

  “It’s a beautiful spread. I’d like to have something like it for myself someday.”

  “There’s a lot of land out here. You’ll need money to get started, but that’s usually not too hard to get. Just work for a while and save it up. Lots of men began that way. I’d offer you a job here, but I understand you’re anxious to get to Tucson. Too bad, because I could always use a good man.”

  “If you’ve been in this country all your life,” Stone said, “I imagine you’ve seen quite a bit of it.”

  “I’ve done my share of traveling,” McIntyre agreed.

  Stone took out the picture of Marie and passed it over the table to him. “Ever see this woman?”

  Ralph McIntyre held the picture in front of him and squinted his eyes, staring at it for several seconds. “She looks familiar,” he said.

  Stone was surprised. People generally said they didn’t recognize her, and he’d been getting used to it. “You think you’ve seen her?” he asked.

  Ralph McIntyre continued to look at the picture. “I can’t say for sure, but I think I have. About two years ago I was in Texas, talking with some ranchers there, and if my memory is right, this woman was married to one of them ranchers.”

  “Are you sure this is that woman?”

  McIntyre looked down at the picture. “I wouldn’t want to bet my life on it, but they sure look the same.” He raised the picture closer to his eyes. “Yep, I do believe it’s her.”

  “Do you remember her name, by any chance?”

  “’Fraid not. There were so many people there, and I didn’t do any business with her husband, as I recall.”

  “What was her husband like?”

  “Much older than her, if my recollection is right, a real gentleman, and she was quite a lady. If I’m not mistaken, she had an accent pretty much like yours.”

  “What part of Texas was it?”

  “San Antone.”

  Ralph McIntyre handed the picture back. “Who is she?”

  “I was supposed to marry her, but when I came home from the war she was gone. I’ve been looking for her ever since, and this is the first time in four years that anybody’s said he’s seen her.”

  “I want to make it clear to you,” Ralph McIntyre replied, “that I wouldn’t stake my life on what I’ve just told you, but I think it’s the same woman. Somehow she stayed in my mind. She was a real good-looker, and polite as can be, a real lady.”

  Stone put the picture back into his pocket. Was Marie in San Antone? If so, he was headed in the wrong direction. Tucson was west, and San Antone east. But he couldn’t go east now, because the Mexican bandits were looking for him. He’d have to continue to Tucson and then catch a stage coming back via another route, probably a northerly one, maybe to Santa Fe. From Santa Fe he could continue east toward Texas. Possibly, in another two or three weeks, a month at the most, he could be in San Antone.

  Stone tried to be calm as he ate his meal. Vaguely he was aware of Lobo and Ralph McIntyre talking about Jacinto and the Apaches in the area, but his mind was on Marie, possibly so close to him now. If she was the woman Mr. McIntyre was talking about, why had she got married to that old man? Who was he and where did she meet him? Marie always had good manners, and could be described as a real lady. It sounded like her, but what was she doing in San Antone?

  Maybe it wasn’t her. Stone had been led astray once before. Someone had told him that Marie was working in a certain saloon, and when he got there, the woman behind the bar looked completely different. The person who’d told him had lied on purpose because he’d wanted Stone to buy him a drink.

  But Ralph McIntyre was a different kind of man. He didn’t have any tricks up his sleeve. Stone felt happy. He couldn’t wait to reach Tucson so he could begin traveling east back to Texas again.

  The windows were open and a cool breeze blew through the dining room. Out in the desert a bird sang a lilting song. Juanita took a second helping of meat, because she was so hungry. She looked like a gypsy with her golden earrings flashing in the afternoon light. She was the exact opposite of Peggy McIntyre, who was light-skinned, dainty, and well groomed, but Peggy hadn’t been living on the desert like an Apache for the past two days.

  Mrs. McIntyre asked Lobo about his mother’s health, and a scowl came over Lobo’s face. “I have not seen her for a long time,” he said.

  The expression on his face suggested he didn’t want to talk about it more, and Mrs. McIntyre took the hint, turning her attention to Juanita. “Are you from Santa Maria del Pueblo?” she asked.

  “All my life,” Juanita replied, “but it has not been much of a life, I am sorry to say.”

  “What did you do there?”

  “I was a singer at La Rosita. Do you know La Rosita?”

  “I don’t believe so,” Mrs. McIntyre said pleasantly.

  Juanita pointed to John Stone. “La Rosita is where he killed my boyfriend.”

  There was a sudden lull in conversation. Everyone looked at Stone, who felt embarrassed. “Self-defense,” he said. “The man pulled a knife on me.” He turned to Ralph McIntyre, to change the topic of conversation. “How many head of cattle do you have?”

  Suddenly there was an ear splitting war whoop, and an Apache Indian jumped through the window, somersaulting through the air and landing on his feet on the floor beside the table, war paint all over his face, holding a rifle in his hand. The door burst open and several Apaches charged into the dining room. Simultaneously another Apache dived through the other window.

  John Stone jumped to his feet and drew both of his guns, opening fire. More Apaches poured into the room, triggering rifles and pistols, slashing with knives. The room filled with screams and gunsmoke and it was difficult to see what was going on.

  At the far end of the table, Bob Smith, the hired hand, reached for his six-gun. Coyotero turned toward him and pulled the trigger of his rifle. The bullet struck Smith in the chest. He went sprawling backward, crashing into the wall.

  Tom McIntyre reached for his gun too. One of the Apache warriors, Many Horses, let fly an arrow, which struck the young man in the chest. He staggered backward, trying to pull the arrow out of his chest, and then another Apache, Fast As a Fox, jumped forward and split his head open with a hatchet.

  The women screamed in horror, jumping up, their fists near their mouths as Bob Smith and Tom McIntyre bled onto the floor. Martha McIntyre rushed toward her son and bent over him, her face wrenched in shock. Black Bear whacked her over the head with a hatchet, and she collapsed on top of her son.

  Ralph McIntyre wore no weapon. In the initial moments of the attack, he stood at the head of the table and picked up his steak knife, preparing to defend himself, but Tacho, one of the Apaches, ran him through the chest with his long lance. He fell to his knees, and Tacho pulled the lance out. Ralph McIntyre fell forward, and was dead before he hit the floor.

  Peggy McIntyre saw her father fall, and fainted dead away. Coyotero drew his long knife and prepared to stab Juanita when she screeched and dived on him, fighting for her life. She was strong, but no match for Coyotero. He pinned her wrists to the wall and looked into her eyes. Something he saw there made him pause. “Save this one for me too!” he said to his men.

  He turned around. The room was still full of smoke. In the far corner, Lobo stood in front of John Stone, and a phalanx of Apaches surrounded Lobo, pointing their rifles, pistols, and lances at him. Stone’s pistols were in his hands, ready to fire again. Blood was everywhere. Bodies lay all over the floor.

  Lobo held a pistol in his right hand, and a thin trail of smoke arose from its barrel. His body was tense and poised to fight, as he looked around the room. “So Coyotero is now a killer of women,” he said in a low deadly voice.

  Coyotero sneered. “It is Lobo, friend of the white eyes. I am so happy to see you again, so that I can kill you.”

  “What is the meaning of this?” Lobo asked. “These people have always been our friends.”

  “Not anymore,
” Coyotero replied. “Who is that white eyes behind you, who you are trying to protect?”

  “He is my blood brother. If you kill him, you must kill me first.”

  “It will be as you say,” Coyotero told him. “I will kill you first, and then I will kill him.”

  Coyotero and Lobo were hollering at each other in their language, and Stone couldn’t understand what they were saying, but knew he was in trouble. Dead bodies were all over the floor. He held both his Colts in his hands, and was ready for anything.

  “Coward!” Lobo shouted at Coyotero. “You attack people who have always been our friends! You have no honor! You are nothing but a killer of women!”

  “You are the little brown pet of the white eyes!” Coyotero replied with a sneer. “They treat you like a dog, and you lick their hands! You are a traitor to your people! You should be killed!”

  “Kill me then, if you dare! You talk like a warrior, but you are only good for killing women!”

  “I would have killed you once, if your father hadn’t stopped me! The worms would be eating your guts right now, if it weren’t for your father!”

  “Why don’t you try again, and see what happens to you?”

  Coyotero stared at Lobo malevolently, hating him with every fiber of his being. “Be careful of what you say,” he replied. “This time you don’t have your father to save you.”

  “No one is here to save you either. Last time you were lucky. Are you a warrior who only fights women, or are you a warrior who dares to fight a real man?”

  Coyotero laughed. “Who is the real man supposed to be? Surely not you, who hides behind his father.”

  “My father isn’t here now.” Lobo beckoned with his finger. “Come on — Just you and me together. Guns, knives, bare hands, any way you like. What are you afraid of?”

  “I am not afraid of you, that is for sure.”

  “If you are not afraid of me, why don’t you fight me?” Lobo looked at the other warriors, all of whom he knew. “How can you follow a man who is afraid to fight? You have all heard me challenge him, and what does he say? Only words. If he were a real warrior, he would accept my challenge, go outside with me, and prove who is the best fighter.”