Canyons by Gary Paulsen Read Free Book Online

morning air it was impossible to tell what was happening but hecould hear the fire and knew whoever was shooting had large guns. The sounds were low, thudding, and the Mexican riders would not have such guns. Only the bluebellies, the pony soldiers, would make such a noise with their large rifles.
    He hesitated for a moment, confused, and in that time Magpie—who had been on his left—came galloping out of the dust.
    “Run! Soldiers—run, my friend, they are too many. They are amongst us. Head for the canyons. Run now!”
    And he was gone, off to the right in the dust, invisible.
    Still Coyote Runs held back. He was reluctant to lose the horses so easily. What would the men say if he just ran and it proved to be nothing? Besides, his medicine was strong. Had not the Mexicans shot at him and missed?
    But in half a second another figure came out of the dust, then two, and he saw that they were wearing the blue wool coats of the soldiers and were holding the loud rifles and were aiming at him and he turned and dug his heels into the straw-colored horse.
    It broke into a run as if waiting for the command, lunged so hard that Coyote Runs would have fallen off had he not been tied on. And the lunge saved his life, as he fell backward a soldier rode beside him and held out his rifle and fired, not ten feet away, butthe bullet passed where Coyote Runs had been sitting and missed him.
    Now run, he thought. Now little horse, run for all there is, run for my medicine, my life, my soul. Run like the wings of birds. Fly—runflyrunfly.
    The straw-colored horse laid its ears back and streamed its tail and streaked through the sand dunes and mesquite so fast that the soldiers could not possibly have followed him, would have lost him in the thick clouds of dust.
    But suddenly they broke clear into the morning sun. Running across the rear of the herd Magpie and Coyote Runs quickly moved out of the dust cloud and as they did Coyote Runs recognized where they were.
    He was running straight toward the bluffs and high canyons up from the desert. Ahead of him not two hundred long paces he saw Magpie driving his horse, whipping it, and when he turned to look back he saw four soldiers break out of the dust, chasing them. Three hundred paces, no more, separated him from the four men. They all had the large rifles. One of them had been the one to shoot at him.
    Four, he thought—so much noise from four men?
    But there were more. Off to the side, looking to the north, he saw the main body of Apaches were being chased toward the next canyon over by more soldiers.
    Firing.
    Everybody was firing. The soldiers were trying to shoot while they rode. It was hard to see how they could hit anything, but Coyote Runs heard those behind him fire—the rifles making a dull thud—and then heard the whistle of the bullet passing close to him.
    The canyon. How far?
    Bright sun, clear morning desert air, cool morning air with the horse running so well, how far? How far to safety?
    Ten, fifteen bowshots to the mouth of the canyon. And then what? If he made it, then what?
    His medicine. The canyon they were heading for was the one leading to his medicine place. If he could make that, could get to the sacred place of the ancient ones, surely he would be safe.…
    More firing, the bullets hissing past. He turned to look back once more and saw that the soldiers had fallen slightly back. They were all big men, heavy, and their mounts were not as fresh. It must have been the group of soldiers they saw on the way down—out on patrol. They must have run into them. He saw sweat on the sides of their horses, foam from their mouths. His own horse was the same, wet, but still driving well, its shoulders pumping with great strength.
    O spirit, what have you given me here, he thought. What a horse.
    Four bowshots left to the canyon mouth.
    There he would have to leave the horse and runup the sides on foot. If he got into the rocks they would never catch him. Not the big sweaty