Apache Gunhawk

by Monogram Press

By late afternoon, Hawk and his prisoners had been on the trail for over two hours and had made good time traveling, back south. With any luck, they might catch up with Brace Coburn and his prisoners before nightfall. If not, the bounty hunter would have to stay awake all night, to keep watch. If he had to do that, he wasn’t going to let the others sleep either. Although travel by night would be hazardous, his plan was to keep moving all night long.

  He had allowed his prisoners to ride unencumbered by ropes or rawhide bindings. It wasn’t that he trusted his charges not to try escape, but it was an unspoken threat that he would welcome any attempt to get away, as an excuse to shoot them down.

  Little Bill and Tom Noonan were both smart enough to heed that warning. They would have to wait and watch for their chance to take the Apache man hunter, if an opportunity were to arise.

  Tom, Julie, and Little Bill rode in front with Tom leading the pack horses while Hawk trailed his grayish black mora behind the trio, keeping them all covered with the big cavalry pistol, he kept firmly grasped in his hand as he rode. “Keep moving,” the bounty man ordered as the three in front, pulled their mounts to a halt. He rode forward beside them.

  “Uh..uh,” Little Bill said with a chuckle. “Looks like you’re all through giving us orders. Look up ahead.” He pointed to a growing cloud of dust, further south. “I’ll bet dollar to donuts, that’s my Pa and the others coming. I told you that two-bit old man couldn’t hold him.”

  “I hate to disappoint you, little…boy.” Hawk relished his play on the outlaw’s name. “But that ain’t your Pa.” He grinned. “I’ve seen them coming for quite some time now and you’re not going to like it.” Then he added, “Now let’s keep going, so you can get a real close up look.” He waved them forward with the muzzle of his Army Colt.

  As they rode on, the dust cloud grew larger until the shapes of horses and riders could be discerned. Then as they approached close enough to be seen clearly, Hawk called his group to a halt. He chuckled as he looked at the fear in their faces. “As you said, little…boy,” Hawk reminded him. “These hills can be just full of Apaches.”

  They waited, four riders lined in a row, watching the six red skinned riders approach.

  “Shouldn’t we be getting out of here?” Little Bill said nervously, “Or are they friends of yours?”

  “I wouldn’t say they are exactly friends,” Hawk said calmly. “One of them is my father, one is my brother, and one is Geronimo himself.”

  The prisoners suddenly felt relieved. “Then there’s nothing to fear?” Tom said.

  “I didn’t say that,” Hawk replied dryly. “Last time I saw them, I turned them over to the cavalry as prisoners.”

  Little Bill shook his head with disbelief and disgust. “Chicken Hawk,” he said. “You are one heap big sumbitch.”

  Hawk grinned as if it were a compliment. He shifted in his saddle and withdrew his rifle from the saddle boot.

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to fight them all by yourself.” Little Bill exclaimed. “Give us our guns and we’ll maybe have a chance.”

  Hawk threw him a sideways glance, indicating he knew better. “You’re lucky you don’t have any,” he said. Then added, “If you’re smart, you’ll do as I tell you.” He flipped his rifle around to grasp the barrel, holding the stock of the weapon skyward.

  “I’m riding forward, carrying the rifle this way as a sign of peace. The rest of you sit here and wait. My back will be toward you and you may get tempted to make a run for it. Take my advice and stay where you are. You try to ride off and they’ll kill you faster than I would.” Hawk took up the reins of the pack horses and gigged his horse forward at a steady walk, without looking back at his captives.

  “Hey. The bank money is on that animal!” Little bill shouted in protest.

  The approaching Apaches were close now, and as they saw Hawk approach, they halted and waited. As Hawk rode up, he slid the rifle back into its scabbard. He reined to a halt. “I see the Great One has once again eluded the soldiers,” he said with admiration.

  “Does Hawk wish to take us back?” Geronimo said flatly. His face was drawn and his dark eyes were sunken, deep into his lined face, with sadness. The old warrior looked tired.

  “No. I told you I would never lead the Army after you again. My job with the white soldiers is done.”

  “Has my son forgotten, his wish that Torrio remain on the reservation?” Natchez said.

  “No. I haven’t forgotten,” Hawk said staring into Torrio’s hateful eyes. “It is up to the Great One if he wishes to keep his part of the bargain.”

  “Hawk knows I cannot return to the reservation. I cannot keep my word unless Hawk wishes to take Torrio with him.”

  “I will not go back,” Torrio shouted. “I will fight my brother.” He started to bolt his horse forward, but Natchez grasped a handful of the horse’s mane and held him back.

  “No. I don’t want to take him back,” Hawk said with a sigh. “I’ve got prisoners,” he thumbed over his shoulder and the Apache leaders gazed past him at the three riders. “It’s difficult enough to watch them. I don’t need another one.”

  “Perhaps, Hawk is afraid to fight his brother,” Torrio sneered.

  “You can think that, if you want, Torrio. But today I am not going to fight you.”

  Then to Geronimo, “All I ask of the Great One is to let us pass in peace. We have food and supplies.” He pulled the pack horses forward and as they came close he reached out and plucked the saddle bags off one of them and draped them over the mora’s withers. He extended the packhorses’s reins forward in offering. Geronimo’s expression did not change, but he nodded to one of the warriors, who rode forward, retrieved the reins and led the animasl to the rear of the party.

  There were no more words to be spoken. The acceptance of supplies was answer enough. Hawk started to wheel his mount, when Torrio said, “What of the woman?”

  Hawk turned back. Torrio’s eyes were glaring. “Is she your woman?”

  “No. She is a prisoner.”

  “Then I will take her with me,” Torrio said, glancing toward his father as if asking him to let him have her.

  Natchez said, “Oh Great One, my son wishes….”

  “No,” Geronimo cut him off. “I have spoken.”

  Once again Hawk wheeled his mount and rode back to his captives.

  ‘‘What did they say?” Julie Hadley asked.

  Without looking at her, Hawk said matter of factly, “Well one of them said he wanted you.”

  The Apache band rode on in a cloud of dust

  Camping for the night posed a problem for Brace Coburn. Dealing with three prisoners, on his own, was a formidable task, especially when it came to feeding them and keeping them secure for the night. He had released each man, one at a time from his saddle and had tied him to a tree trunk. Since trees of any size were sparse in this area, that meant the prisoners would be spread out with several yards between the trees.

  Then one at a time he brought each prisoner hard tack, beans, and coffee which he had cooked over the campfire he had built after securing the outlaws to the trees. He had released each prisoner’s hands long enough to take his meal. He then secured the captives hands and moved on to complete the ritual with each of the others.

  Lee Hadley rested in the shade with his own meal, watching the marshal methodically tending to his ministrations. He had been thinking about the situation, for a long time now and he had formulated a plan. But, first he was going to have to get the lawman to trust him. “Need any help, Marshal?” Hadley called to him.

  Coburn had just finished taking care of Charlie Noonan and had moved on to Sid Denglert. “I can feed the other one if you want.”

  “No,” Coburn answered. “I’d rather have only one of these birds loose at a time. Besides, you need to get your strength back. Just take it easy. I’ll manage.”

  “I’m feeling better already, Marshal,” Hadley returned. “So, if there is an thing I can help with, ju
st let me know.”

  “Thanks,” the marshal responded. “Maybe you can help keep watch tonight.”

  “Be glad to.” Now, the banker had planted the seed. This was just what he wanted.

  “How’s the leg, Sid?” Coburn said as he loosened the rawhide strips from around his wrists.

  “Just a little stiff. Otherwise, it’s coming along fine.” He flexed his fingers and rubbed his wrists, letting circulation flow.

  “How come you haven’t told Bill about me?” He asked, taking the tin plate.

  “Didn’t seem like there was any point to it.” Coburn said. “It was a long time ago. Appears to me you’ve been faithful to him all these years.”

  Sid put down his plate, took a sip of his coffee, then said, “He’s been like a son to me, Marshal. It’s torn me apart all these years. How could I tell him I was responsible for his father’s death.”

  “You weren’t responsible, Sid. It’s not your fault that things went wrong. He didn’t have to shoot it out.”

  “But if I hadn’t warned you we were doing the job, it never would have happened.”

  “What were your choices? What would have happened if you hadn’t done it?”

  “I know,” Sid said shaking his head from side to side. “Charlie would have dangled from a rope, that day in Mud flats. Him and I had gone there to check out the bank and he had to get into a shooting scrape over a two bit dance hall girl. We never told Ace or anyone else about that. I made the deal with you to save him. The little brat probably would have deserved the rope, but I did it for Ace, even knowing that Ace would be arrested. He was getting tired of the life anyways, and I thought he could end it there in Mud Flats. Do a little time before he was in deep enough for a rope.”

  “You did the right thing, Sid,” Brace said. “I’m just sorry it turned out like it did.”

  “Bill still blames you for Ace’s death,” Sid said.

  “Yes. I know, and he’s right, I let things get out of hand and then I thought you had double crossed me. I’m sorry.”

  “You couldn’t just let us get away now? Kinda make up for it some.”

  The marshal took a deep breath and said, “No, Sid. I can’t.”

  A few yards away, in the bushes, Eli Cobb listened to the conversation between Brace Coburn and Sid Denglert. He smiled to himself as he lay on the ground, peering through the foliage, at the men in camp. He was pleased that the banker was still alive and well. That meant, there was still money to be paid for Julie Hadley.

  “You didn’t have to give all our food away,” Little Bill complained. He slapped a mosquito at the back of his neck. Hawk swerved his mount and bumped into Little Bill’s, nudging the horse forward.

  “Maybe you would’ve rather given them your hair,” Hawk smirked.

  “Well dammit, Hawk. We’re all getting pretty hungry and tired. Can’t we stop awhile?”

  Darkness had settled in on the riders. A three quarter moon was rolling in the sky above, affording just enough illumination, to see the trail. Crickets were out, filling the night air with their sounds and mosquitoes were nibbling at the horses and riders.

  “As long as you’re thinking food and rest, you won’t be thinking about getting away.”

  “Don’t kid yourself, Chief. I’m thinking all the time.”

  “That’s just what I thought. So we’ll just keep riding awhile.”

  Tom Noonan twisted in the saddle to look back at Hawk. Julie had been riding alongside him. “What about Julie?” He asked. “You going to starve her too? She doesn’t deserve to be treated like that. She didn’t ask to come along.”

  “That’s not what her husband thinks,” Hawk answered coldly.

  Julie shuddered with a chill, even in the warmth of the summer evening. Tom tossed her a reassuring glance. “Are you all right?” He asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she lied. She swayed a little in the saddle. Tom braced her and kept her from falling off the horse. He pulled his mount to a halt.

  “Keep moving,” Hawk ordered.

  “Can’t you see she’s weak and tired. She’s a woman for God’s sake. Can’t you give her some consideration?”

  The Apache nudged his mora away from the other riders, so he could face them all. “All right. There’s a stream, a little ways on, down the trail. We’ll stop and rest there awhile. I’ve got some jerky in my saddle bags and that will have to do. Anybody makes a wrong move, everybody goes down with lead in them. You got that?”

  Brace Coburn sat with his broad back against a boulder. His feet were crossed and the stock of his rifle stood on the ground between them. He held the forearm of the weapon in both hands with the muzzle pointing skywards. It wavered a little as the marshal’s head drooped, nodding sleepily. He jerked his head up, pulling himself awake, before succumbing to sleep. He sat straighter, steeling himself to stay awake. He fumbled with his pocket watch. It was too dark to see the time and the picture was shadowed in darkness. He sighed and put it away.

  The three-quarter moon above bathed the camp with an ominous glow. Coburn had positioned himself where he could view all of the outlaws at once. As uncomfortable as it must be, tied to a tree, they were all sleeping, or so it seemed. Time and time again, the lawman began to nod off and then forced himself awake.

  Lee Hadley had been lying near what was left of the fire and was starting to stir from his sleep. He had actually been asleep, for he knew he needed it, but as he planned, once he stirred, he would force himself awake.

  He arose from his blankets and strode over to where the marshal was sitting on watch.

  “You must be real tired, Marshal,” he said. “I’m feeling much better now. If you want to catch a little shut eye, I can spell you for awhile.”

  Coburn glanced from the banker to the tied outlaws. He thought about it a moment. “I really don’t want to take a chance on these birds getting away,” he said.

  “They won’t,” Hadley assured him. “Anything happens, I’ll give you a shout.”

  The lawman thought some more, trying to decide if he should chance it. He was tired and it was still a long way back to Dry Wells. He would need to be alert for the rest of the trip, so he gave in and said, “All right Mr. Hadley. I’d appreciate the help.” He stood and handed over the rifle. “Remember. They make a move, wake me up. I don’t want you taking any chances. You hear me?”

  “I understand, Marshal.” Hadley took his place by the boulder and the marshal found a spot to stretch out, using his saddle for a pillow.

  The lawman, upon reclining, suddenly realized how tired he really was. No sooner had he relaxed, he had drifted off to sleep.

  Lee Hadley smiled to himself with satisfaction as he listened to the big man’s snore.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN