Blood Treachery (A White Apache Western Book 6) by David Robbins

Author:David Robbins
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: western novel, the old west, david robbins, jake mcmasters, white apache, best western novel, western novel ebook, western novel online, the us wild west
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Chapter Seven

Delgadito had always liked the wind. It cooled him on hot days, brought news of rain long before clouds gathered, and carried the scent of enemies and game to his sensitive nostrils to alert him. The wind was his friend.

This night, late, his friend carried to his keen ears the faint rattle of a pebble. Instantly Delgadito was up and in a crouch, his rifle clutched at his waist. “Someone comes,” he whispered.

Fiero was off the ground in a flash, shaking his head to dispel lingering tendrils of sleep. It bothered him that the other warrior’s senses had proven more acute. He took immense pride in the fact many Chiricahuas considered him one of the best warriors in the tribe, and he did not like to be shown up. Fiero lived only to fight, to excel at war, to kill white-eyes and Nakai-yes until the rest were driven from Apache land.

The shelf on which the pair had made camp was situated high on a ridge overlooking a barren canyon. On one side lay a steep drop, hundreds of feet, while on the other was a gravel slope no living creature could climb without making noise.

The wind brought them no new sounds, so Delgadito crept to the rim and peered down the slope. At the limits of his vision a form moved, gliding toward them. He motioned at Fiero, who cat-footed off to the left and eased onto his stomach.

Delgadito did likewise. He had a fair idea who was down there but he was not about to take anything for granted. He moved to a point that afforded a clear view of the gravel strip and tucked his rifle to his shoulder.

Only a short while passed before the night air rang to the high-pitched bark-bark-bark of an agitated chipmunk, just such a sound as a chipmunk might make if disturbed in its burrow by a roving predator.

From Delgadito’s lips issued an answer, as perfect as the original, so much so that a real chipmunk would have been fooled. A shape glided from the boulders and up the incline. Delgadito looked but saw no others and right away he knew that something was wrong. “You come alone, Ponce,” he said as he stood.

The young warrior had been running for hours. He was tired and thirsty and his legs were sore but he was not about to let the two older men know. “Cuchillo Negro sent me on ahead,” he reported.

Fiero loomed out of the night. “Why? What has happened?”

“Lickoyee-shis-inday never joined us as he was supposed to. Cuchillo Negro went in search of him and sent me ahead to let you know.”

“I told White Apache not to go,” Delgadito said harshly. “Leaving heads for the white-eyes to find is foolish. It serves no real purpose.”

“I like the idea,” Fiero declared. “It shows the white-eyes that we are not afraid, that they will pay for taking our land and making our people live like dogs.”

“All it does is stir them up to come look for us,” Delgadito said.

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