Cry of Eagles by William W. Johnstone Read Free Book Online

Falcon. Vaya con Díos, partner,” Wyatt said.
    * * *
    Falcon climbed on Diablo and began to ride to the southeast out of town. Just as he got to the city limits he saw three men on horseback followed by two buckboards coming toward him.
    As he pulled abreast of the wagons, he glanced inside and his stomach went cold. There were several bodies laid out in a row. All had been scalped, and one’s head looked as if it’d been cooked in a fire, then its skull split open.
    â€œHold on, there!” Falcon called as he wheeled Diablo in a tight turn. “What’s happened here?”
    One of the men—they were miners by their looks—shook his head. “We found these poor folk at a cabin up in the foothills of the Dragoon Mountains. Looks like the Apaches had quite a time with them.”
    Falcon climbed down off Diablo, his heart aching at the sight of the slaughtered settlers. There were two women, their naked bodies covered with blood-soaked blankets. Falcon pulled back the blanket and felt his gorge rise at the sight of the gutted woman, her entrails hanging loose. Noonday sun glinted off her bare skull where the scalp had been hacked off. Her face, even in death, still wore a look of horror at what had befallen her.
    Falcon brushed flies off her face and gently closed her eyes with his fingers. Then his fist clenched as he felt the familiar killing rage sweep through his body. In his mind’s eye, the woman’s face became that of Marie, his wife, who had been crucified by renegade Indians in the not too distant past.
    He forced his voice past the knot in his throat. “Do you know who did this?” he asked.
    The miner shrugged. “Some soldiers came by our claim the other day and said Naiche and a small band of followers was on the warpath in this area, but the blue-bellies was havin’ trouble locatin’ ’em.”
    â€œNaiche, huh? I’ve heard of him. Some people call him the human tiger, because of his thirst for white man’s blood,” Falcon said, turning away, unable to look at the woman’s body any longer.
    â€œYeah,” one of the men on horseback added, “they also said another band of ‘bout twenty or so Injuns escaped from Fort Thomas last week with over fifty Winchester repeatin’ rifles and a whole load of ammunition.” He leaned to the side and spat a stream of brown tobacco juice onto a cactus beside the road. “I plan on stayin’ in town fer a while to give those soldiers a chance to catch them redskins.”
    â€œThat’s fer sure,” another of the miners said. “They bad enough with bows an’ arrows, but they gonna be plumb hell with repeatin’ rifles in they hands.”
    â€œLooks like they took off with some horses and mules belongin’ to these folks, an’ whatever weapons they had. There wasn’t much left of the cabin that hadn’t been trashed,” said the man driving the buckboard.
    â€œThere was blood everwhere,” another said, shaking his head. “Poor devils must’ve suffered somethin’ fierce. ’Couple of ’em looked like they’d been scalped while still alive, and we never did find one of the heads that’d been cut off.”
    Falcon slammed his fist into the side of the wagon, making the driver jump and almost swallow his cud of chewing tobacco. As he choked and spit, Falcon turned to him. “How do I find this cabin?”
    â€œTake the north fork of the road headin’ up into the Dragoons, ’bout three mile up ahead. You can’t miss it. But mister, I gotta tell ya, yore crazy if you go up there.”
    Falcon climbed into the saddle and rode off, his back stiff and his neck thick with anger. He’d be damned if he was going to let this happen to anyone else’s wife. Not if he had any say in the matter.

Chapter 7
    On the trail up into the mountains, Falcon tried to calm himself down. He knew he was