Apache Gunhawk

by Monogram Press

Little Bill Noonan was at the end of the bar, hunched over, leaning on his elbows and nursing his drink, when Tom Noonan came in. He made no change in his stance or expression when he spotted his brother out of the corner of his eye.

  Tom ambled across the room and stopped at the bar adjacent to where Little Bill stood. “Whiskey,” he ordered as the barkeep looked up at him expectantly.

  The barkeep poured the drink and Tom tossed a coin on the shiny bar. The barkeep took it and shuffled away to toss it in the cash register.

  Tom stared straight ahead at the mirror behind the bar, held his glass high to hide the movement of his lips, and said in a low tone to Little Bill, “Meet me back at camp. If you get there before me, tell Pa and the boys to hold off until they hear from me. We’ve got problems. I think I’ve been made.”

  He tossed the drink down, turned and walked out through the batwing doors. Little Bill remained, lingering at the bar as if nothing had transpired.

  Tom had just stepped off the board sidewalk and was untying his horse when the detail of cavalry troops came roaring down the street and passed him. Another complication, he thought. Now they might have the Army to contend with, if they stayed in town too long. With the reins in hand he stepped to the side of his horse and started to mount.

  “Tom?” A familiar feminine voice sounded behind him. He knew it all too well and he turned slowly to face her. A dread waved over him.

  “It really is you, isn’t it, Tom?” She said as he came around to look straight into her big brown eyes. She practically gasped and her heart quickened into a flutter, a mixture of delight and concern spread over her face.

  “I’m afraid so, Julie,” he said quietly with a sigh. Memories flooded through his brain and he felt the same excitement and stirring that he had experienced three years earlier on that wagon train in New Mexico.

  She started to rush toward him, but he caught her arms and held her back. Oh, God it was good to see her! But, oh God, this was all wrong! There was a wringing in his gut and his legs were turning to rubber. Fear crawled up and down his spine. He seemed to be feeling everything at the same time, ranging from ecstatic joy to the dread of impending doom. “It’s good to see you,” he said with coolness, fighting the urge to pull her close. “But we mustn’t be seen this way.”

  She glanced furtively about as if checking to see if anyone was watching, but through her excitement, she could see nothing, only the young man in front of her and fleeting memories of another time.

  “I heard my husband call you Mr. Grogan,” she said. He winced at the word ‘husband’. She noticed and said quickly, “Yes that’s right, Lee Hadley is my husband. He owns the bank.”

  Tom didn’t know what to say. He was still trying to figure it out when she said. “Since you’re using an assumed name, I guess you’re here to rob the bank.” There was sorrow in her tone, with a tinge of shakiness.

  Tom only stared for a moment. Then said with chagrin and remorse, “Yes, Julie. That is what I came here for. If I told you I’ve changed my mind and I’m riding out, would you believe me?”

  “I would never, not believe you, Tom. But why would you rob a bank?”

  Tom shifted from one foot to the other and leveled his eyes into hers. “Because that’s what I do, Julie. I’ve done it for years. Even before I met you. We had just pulled a job the day before we came across your wagon train.”

  Her chin lowered with disappointment and a tear welled in the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry,” he said. He lifted her chin with two fingers, stared into her eyes, unable to say anything, much less offer excuses or explanations.

  Then, pushing the emotions away, he turned to attending to business. “As I said, I’ll just ride away. Can I ask you not to tell anyone about me until after I’m gone? If you can’t, I understand. It is your bank and I did come here to steal from you.”

  “It’s my husband’s bank.” Her lashes flicked up and her eyes flared. “I don’t have anything of my own. Never did, even when my folks were alive.”

  “They’re gone?”

  “Pa was thrown from a horse and Ma grieved herself to death afterward. It was shortly after we left the train and settled here. Lee Hadley offered me a home and he could afford to provide for me.”

  “Has…has he been good to you?” Tom hesitated to ask, wanting to know, yet not wanting to.

  She nodded. “I suppose. At times.” There seemed to be something else she wanted to say, but didn’t.

  Tom wanted to probe further, but thought differently from it. “Well, I’d better get going,” he said, turning to reach for the saddle horn. He wanted her to say something, anything to make him linger, but it was not forthcoming. He swung into the saddle, lifted the reins and backed the horse up a step or two making room to turn.

  With one last glance, down at her, he half smiled. She said quickly, as if it was a last effort to prolong his stay. “What about your money, you left at the bank? Are you just going to leave without it?”

  “It’s probably best. It was a risk I took. Your husband might as well profit from my mistake. That way you can tell him about me right away.”

  She shook her head. “Come back in the morning and get it, if you want. Don’t worry, I won’t tell. I’ll never tell.”

  “I’ll think about it.” He nodded, touched the brim of his wide hat, wheeled his steed and rode down the street.

  She watched him go for a moment, wanting to wave but not daring to. As he disappeared in a cloud of dust at the end of the street, she gathered up her skirts, turned and hurried away back toward the bank.

  Over the top of the Golden Coin’s batwing doors, Little Bill Noonan, his face dark with distrust and suspicion, watched his brother ride away.

  As Julie Hadley made her way back toward the bank, Lee Hadley stood at the bank’s front window watching her. His eyes blazed with anger and jealousy as he let the curtain drop back into place.

  Hawk had dismissed his altercation with Corey Dillon as a minor annoyance and had already put the incident behind him and out of his mind, as he strode on down the street, looking for a place to get a room for the upcoming days that he needed to wait for his bounty money to arrive.

  “Hawk!” He heard a voice behind him, that he recognized right away. He was tired and was in no mood to be talking to anyone, much less Captain Randall Stowe of the U.S. Army. He hesitated a moment, then kept on walking, pretending he hadn’t heard the man. “Hawk! Wait up a minute! Will you?” The voice was louder now, coming closer and he could hear the hurried footsteps on the hard-packed dirt street.

  At that, Hawk halted and stood still for a moment, letting his irritation subside a bit. Then slowly, he turned to see the cavalry officer approaching rapidly. His breathing was a little labored and reflected in his speech. “I need to talk to you, Hawk.” There was urgency in his tone.

  “Dillon got what he asked for,” the Apache said bluntly with disgust in his tone.

  Stowe waved his hand in the form of dismissal. “It’s not about that,” he said. “Besides, you’re right. He had it coming. It’s about time someone stood up to him. He’s hidden behind those stripes and bullied his men much too long.”

  “Well now that I’m no longer one of his men, those stripes don’t mean anything to me,” Hawk said flatly.

  “Forget about Dillon,” Stowe said. “I need your help.” Would you just hear me out for a moment?”

  “Sorry, Captain. I left the army because I didn’t want to help any more.” He started to turn and leave.

  “Would you just hear me out for a moment? Geronimo and some of his followers have escaped the reservation.”

  “He’s done that before.”

  “I’ve got to bring them back.”

  “You’ve done that before, too,” Hawk reminded him.

  “Not without you,” Stowe retorted. “I need a scout I can rely on.”

  “Don’t you already have one?”

  The Captain scoffed, “If that’s what he can be called, I su
ppose so. He’s a civilian. We can’t enlist Apache scouts into the Army anymore. We’re dredging the bottom of the barrel.”

  “Who’ve you got?” The bounty man asked idly.

  “Eli Cobb,” Stowe said with a sigh of disgust.

  “Eli Cobb?” Hawk exclaimed. “He’s a bounty hunter, not a scout. Besides, he’s more of a savage, than I am. And he’s a white man.”

  “Exactly,” Stowe said. “That’s why I need you.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting, I’m a bounty hunter, too, Captain.”

  “And you’re the best scout I ever had. Besides, I thought you might want to know about it this time.”

  Hawk waited without asking why, but it was implicit in his stare.

  “Torrio’s with him,” the Captain said. “I thought you’d like to see him put back on the reservation. That is, if he were to come back alive. Cobb’s likely to bring back just his scalp. He collects bounty on them too.”

  “Why should I care?”

  “I just thought you might want the pleasure, yourself.” Stowe remarked.

  “You thought wrong, Captain. I’d rather see him rot on the reservation and die of the cholera, like …” He thought of his mother and Dulsiree and almost said their names. He caught himself and finished, “…like all the others, who didn’t deserve it, have.”

  The Captain could see the pain in Hawk’s eyes. He knew what the tall Indian was remembering. “That’s why you should come along,” he said quietly.

  Hawk fell silent, thinking. “I can pay you $20 a day for two days. That’s all I can pay and it’s all I’ll ask of you. After two days, if we haven’t caught them, you can ride on. I need an answer now, Hawk. We’ll be moving out again within the next half hour.”

  Hawk nodded. “All right, on one condition.”

  “Just name it.”

  “I don’t take orders from Dillon. If need be, he takes them from me. And, I don’t want any trouble from him.”

  Stowe smiled and held out his hand, “Good. Get your gear and meet us at the edge of town.

  Hawk nodded, but didn’t bother to take the Captain’s offered hand. He turned on his heel and strode toward the livery.

  CHAPTER TEN