Apache Moon by Len Levinson Read Free Book Online Page A

buckskin skirts and blouses, while the men had on white breechcloths, moccasin boots, and red bandannas. They jabbered excitedly to each other as Duane maneuvered his horse alongside Phyllis's. The Pecos Kid and the rancher's daughter looked into each other's eyes significantly. Both knew that they might be torn from limb to limb in the minutes to come. He reached out his hand and grabbed hers, for that last bit of warmth. They squeezed, and she made a brave smile. “We'll be just fine,” she said, trying to convince both of them.
    Apaches swarmed around Delgado, asking questions in their rasping language. The chieftain replied, and a woman began to wail. The wounded boy was lowered to the arms of another woman. The villagers appeared disturbed and a few glowered accusingly at Duane and Phyllis.
    â€œIf they come for us,” he said out of the corner of his mouth, “just fight them until they kill you. It's the easiest way, according to what the old cowboys say.”
    Phyllis set her mouth in a grim line. It looked like Apache women were about to attack, and she wished that her fingernails were longer. “They'll never take me alive,” she said evenly.
    One group of Apaches made a circle around the boy, and the rest surrounded Duane and Phyllis. Delgado alighted from his horse and broke through the crowd. He looked up at Duane and said, “Get down.”

    Duane and Phyllis lowered themselves to the ground, and the Apaches inched closer. Duane and Phyllis tensed, waiting for the first knife thrust. Then Delgado launched into an Apache speech while the others listened intently. Duane's flesh crawled at the sight of so many vicious savages. He gazed into their eyes and saw bottomless incomprehensibility. He'd heard stories of white men being skinned alive, or tied to cactus plants with rawhide, and as the rawhide shrank, it pulled you slowly into death from a thousand sharp needles. He gritted his teeth and tried to hold himself together.
    Next to him, Phyllis was pale as the wisp of a cloud floating across the sky. She'd lived a pampered life and had never been on her own before. But she swore that she wouldn't whimper and cry, even if they burned her at the stake. She was Big Al Thornton's daughter, and she'd fight them till her dying breath. Women wailed and shrieked at the edge of the crowd. It was bizarre, and Phyllis's hair stood on end. Then Delgado turned toward Duane.
    â€œFollow me.”
    Duane looked in his eyes for the lie, couldn't find it, but that didn't mean it wasn't there. You couldn't trust Apaches, and it appeared that the worst was yet to come. Delgado waded into the crowd, and the Apaches made a path for him. Duane tried to orient himself but had no point of reference. They could be anywhere, and possibly even in Mexico. He followedDelgado through a sea of faces, some expressionless, others openly hostile. Duane was certain that a hatchet would fall on his head at any moment.
    His hand found Phyllis's, and they squeezed tightly. He looked at her, and her jaw was set firmly. She was ready to go down fighting, and his heart swelled with pride for the courage of his woman. “If I have to die,” he told her, “I'd rather do it with you than anybody else.”
    â€œThanks, Duane,” she replied dryly, for she wasn't eager to die under any circumstances.
    Delgado led them closer to the huts, and Duane examined pots, baskets, and bones lying on the ground. The children were naked except for breechcloths and red bandannas, jumping around like monkeys. A screech arose from the far side of the camp, and Duane shivered at the inhuman sound. Stew simmered in pots atop small fires that emitted no smoke, and the food didn't smell bad to two Texans who hadn't eaten all day. It appeared that they were headed for a hut in the midst of the others.
    â€œWait here,” said Delgado. Then he ducked and disappeared into the hut. Grunts and murmurs could be heard from within,