Blood Sky at Morning

by Jory Sherman

  Delgado’s face grew livid with rage. He went into a crouch and clawed for the butt of his pistol. Diego started to draw his arm back to throw his knife at Cody. Valdez stabbed his hand downward to jerk his pistol free.

  A single second splintered into fractions. Four lives teetered on the fulcrum of eternity. All breathing stopped. Sweat froze. Eyes crackled and sparked like tiny flames deep in men’s souls. Time no longer existed in that place. Somewhere, out of sight, a small door opened just a crack and there was a darkness beyond, a limitless darkness where no light could shine.

  Cody’s hand was a flash of lightning, his pistol a thundercrack in the mute firmament. The blue sky seemed to pale as fire belched from the barrel of his pistol and the hornet sound of his Colt fried the still morning air. Delgado sucked blood from the hole in his throat and his arms flew upward, his hands empty.

  Cody sidestepped as he hammered back and his pistol roared again. The bullet caught Diego just as he hurled his knife and before Diego hit the ground, Cody knocked the hammer back on the Colt with the heel of his left hand and swung the barrel toward Valdez, who had his pistol nearly out of its holster. His lips were pressed together as if he were under a great strain.

  “Hijo…” he breathed as Cody’s pistol roared with the exploding sound of doom. The bullet smashed into Valdez’s chest with the force of a pile driver, cracking bone, crushing flesh and veins into raw pulp, and his eyes clouded up as tears shot from ducts like a salty rain.

  Valdez collapsed to his knees and struggled to draw breath into lungs that were clogged with blood and bone. Then the feeble light in his eyes fled through that open door, into the darkness.

  Zak cocked his pistol again and looked at each man sprawled on the ground, the smoke from his pistol rising like a fakir’s cobra from a wicker basket, the air reeking of burnt powder.

  He heard a noise then, the clattering of rocks, the crash of brush. He turned to see Hugo Rivers running headlong down the slope of the hill, his rifle held high over his head, his feet moving almost too fast for his body to follow.

  “Hey,” Rivers yelled, “you done it all. I didn’t have a chance to help.”

  Zak opened the gate on the pistol and began ejecting the brass hulls. He had filled the empty cylinders with fresh cartridges by the time Rivers reached his side, out of breath and panting. In the distance, he saw Scofield running toward them at a fast lope.

  “Boy, sir, I never saw nothin’ like that. I mean, one minute they was three men bracin’ you, and you plumb beat ’em all to the draw and dusted them off like they was flies on a buttermilk pail.”

  “There is an old saying about the quick and the dead, Rivers.”

  “Yeah, what’s that, sir?”

  “If you aren’t quick, you’re dead.”

  “Never heard that.”

  “I just made it up. You’d better get your horses and Miss O’Hara. Don’t let her see any of this, though. I’ll meet you on the other end of the hill, the top end.”

  “Yes, sir. Right away, sir. But I’m still tryin’ to figure out how you was so much faster than any of them. They wasn’t slow.”

  “When a man goes for his gun, Rivers, he’d better not have anything else on his mind. Those men were so busy trying to figure out what to do about me, they forgot I was there.”

  “Well, no, sir, they knew you was there all right. That one boy, the one you shot first, well, he went for his gun long before you did.”

  “He might have gone for it, Rivers, but I was already there, about two seconds ahead of him.”

  “About a half second, I’d say.”

  “Well, who’s counting? Now get going. We’ve some riding to do.”

  Rivers started to salute, then realized that Cody wasn’t in uniform and awkwardly dropped his arm. He trotted off to climb the hill he had just come down, and ran right through a pair of buzzards that flapped and squawked as they hopped out of his way.

  Scofield came up, panting for breath. He looked at the dead men in disbelief.

  “Colonel Cody, sir, I never saw anything like it.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the shooting you did. I had a bird’s eye view and saw those three men buck up against you. I thought sure you were a goner.”

  Zak said nothing as he holstered his pistol, then lifted it slightly to keep it loose.

  “I mean, how do you do that, sir?” Scofield said.

  “What?”

  “Go up against three gunmen and come out without nary a scratch? I couldn’t see your hand real well, but I know it was empty when that fat one went for his gun.”

  “It’s real simple, Corporal. I knew what he was going to do. He didn’t know what I was going to do.”

  “That simple?”

  “Almost. Near enough.”

  “Yes, sir. Mighty fine shooting, though.”

  “Scofield, these men are dead. They didn’t have to die. I gave them a choice. They picked the wrong one. I regret that I had to kill them. I feel sorry for the lives they gave up.”

  “Well, they were trying to kill you, sir.”

  “Yes, they were. But I walked into their world. I was the intruder, not they. Makes you wonder.”

  “What’s that, sir?”

  “Just what keeps the world in balance. A man swats at a bug, kills it with the palm of his hand. Another cuts off a snake’s head, while another shoots quail out of the sky. Who keeps track of such small things? And what does it mean when the final count is tallied? Nothing? Or everything?”

  “I don’t follow you, sir.”

  “No need, Scofield. I just hate to take a life. It leaves an empty hole in the life of someone who’s still living. And maybe it leaves a little hole in my life, too.”

  “Aw, you can’t go worrying about trash like these, sir. They was rawboned killers. Probably got more blood on their hands than you got on your hankie when you was a nose-bleedin’ kid.”

  “Let’s go, Scofield,” Zak said. “Rivers will bring your horse and Miss O’Hara to the high end of that hill, and we’ll get on the trail of Trask and Ferguson. You want to ride double?”

  “I’ll walk, sir, if it’s all the same to you.”

  Scofield looked at the dead men again and shook his head as if he were still trying to figure it all out. The buzzards flapped, and three more landed some fifty yards away. They were ringed by the scavengers now and there were more still floating in the sky, their circles getting smaller as they slowly descended toward earth.

  The smell of death lingered in Zak’s nostrils a long time that day. He was glad that Colleen didn’t say anything about what he’d done, although he’d bet a day’s pay that Rivers told her all about it, no doubt in exaggerated terms.

  “I’m sorry,” she said that night when they stopped by a dry wash to rest the horses and stretch their legs.

  “About what?”

  “About what you had to do today. I know it was necessary.”

  “It wasn’t necessary, Colleen. It was brutal and cruel and heartless.”

  “But—”

  “No, that’s what it was. I’m glad you weren’t around to see it.”

  “You’re awful hard on yourself, Zak.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long time. She moved in closer to him and he could smell her scent, her soft womanly scent, like lilacs and mint growing under a cistern. Fresh and sweet. He wanted to kiss her, but Scofield and Rivers were watching them. This was not the time.

  He wondered when that time would be.

  Chapter 24

  Delbert Scofield finished smoking his cigarette, crushed it to bits between two fingers, scattered the remains on the ground. Then he scuffed up the dirt with his boot heels until there was no trace of tobacco or paper.

  Hugo Rivers cleared his throat.

  “When you aim to talk to Colonel Cody, Del?” he said.

  Scofield looked over to where Colleen and Zak still stood.

  “Directly. Soon as he gets finished sparking th
at schoolmarm.”

  “It just don’t seem like he knows what for.”

  “He knows something, that’s for sure.”

  “Look, we ain’t follerin’ the old stage road no more. We brung along all them horses what are slowin’ us down. It don’t seem like he’s in no hurry to catch up with those outlaws we’re supposed to be chasin’.”

  “I know. I wondered about that myself. And him goin’ off by hisself ever’ so often, ridin’ up to the top of a hill and flashin’ that little mirror.”

  “I ast him about that. He says it’s a army heliograph,” Rivers said.

  “A what?”

  “A heliograph. It’s got a little cross cut into it, so’s he can sight the sun and make it bounce off. Says the Injuns call it a ‘talkin’ glass.’ ’Spose he’s talkin’ to the Apaches?”

  “I don’t know what the hell he’s doin’, Hugo. This is gettin’ to look more and more like a wild goose chase.”

  “Well, go ahead and ast him. We got a right to know. We’re low on grub. He ain’t said nothin’ about beddin’ down. He keeps lookin’ at that sky gettin’ blacker and blacker. We could get caught in a gully washer before mornin’.”

  “All right. Quit your bellyachin’. I’ll ask him.”

  The horses, those that had belonged to Chama, Carmen, Julio, Manuel, and Renaldo, were all roped together, standing disconsolately a few feet away, their rumps to the north, as the sun died in the west below an ashen sky turning darker by the moment.

  Bull bats knifed the air, scooping up insects, and a chill seemed to rise from the land as the shadows softened and melted together. An eerie stillness settled over the rocks and plants, the low hills.

  “Time to mount up,” Zak called over to Scofield and Rivers.

  “Before we do, Colonel, sir, I got some questions, if that’s all right.”

  “I have some questions of my own,” Colleen said. “When you’re finished asking, of course, Delbert.”

  “Yes’m.”

  “Corporal,” Zak said.

  “Yes, sir, well, sir, I just wanted to know why we’re not trackin’ them men. You left the old stage road, and they could be anywhere. Ain’t nary a track out here in this open wilderness.”

  “I know where Trask and Ferguson are going, Scofield. I expect Miss O’Hara knows, too, don’t you, Colleen?”

  “Well, I know my brother makes maps. He wrote me what he was doing. He said he was marking where the Apache strongholds were, but only he can read the maps. He is probably guiding those men to one of the Apache camps, though. But I can’t imagine that Ted would betray the Apaches he’s made friends with. He…well, he said he respects them.”

  “I’m counting on that,” Zak said.

  “What about all that mirror flashing?” Scofield said. “You bringin’ the Apaches down on us, maybe?”

  Zak smiled. It was growing darker, but he could still see everyone’s face, and they could see his.

  “Tom Jeffords now knows we’re coming. He’ll tell Cochise, and we might be able to count on some Chiricahua help when we meet up with Trask and his bunch.”

  “Likely, the Apaches won’t know the difference and wipe us all out,” Rivers said.

  “Shut up, Hugo,” Scofield said. “I ain’t finished with my questions yet.” He paused, as if to collect his thoughts.

  “Go on, Scofield,” Zak said.

  “Well, we got them horses what belonged to the people you killed, and they’re slowin’ us down. And we’re about out of grub. We only brought enough to last us three until we got to Tucson.”

  “You’ll find food in the saddlebags of those horses we brought along,” Zak said. “And I have some in my own saddlebags. The horses are carrying bedrolls, water, rifles, and ammunition. They’ll come in handy when we run into Trask. We’re a few sleeps away from that, however.”

  “How long do you figure we’ll be out here?”

  “Oh, I expect we’ll see Trask and Ferguson tomorrow. About the time that storm hits. They’re riding the old stage road and I think they’re going to stop at each station to see what I’ve done to Ferguson’s operation. In fact, I’d say we’re ahead of them now, and we should get a visit from Jeffords, and perhaps a few Apache braves, before dawn.”

  “So, you do have a plan,” Scofield said.

  Zak didn’t answer. He turned to Colleen.

  “You had some questions, Colleen?”

  “I think you’ve answered most of them. I’m still wondering how you’re—we’re—going to save my brother, get him away from those awful men. I don’t want him to be killed.”

  “I’m counting on your brother to make the right moves when we start the fight, Colleen. He’s a smart man, and no doubt he’s been looking for ways to escape all this time he’s been in captivity. That’s a bridge we’ll cross when we come to it.”

  “Well, I worry.”

  “Well, don’t. Worry is just something that keeps you from thinking things through. It doesn’t accomplish anything much, and it wears you down.”

  She gave out a small laugh.

  “I see,” she said.

  “Look, all of you,” Zak said, “I don’t know what’s going to happen. Trask is a dangerous man. A desperate man. I think the Chiricahua can help us. We’re outgunned and outnumbered right now. But we hold some cards Trask doesn’t know about. I think he’s going to be surprised. I’m planning to make his hair stand on end.”

  There was a silence among them for several moments.

  The sky blackened in the north and stars appeared to the east. The moon had not yet risen, but there were clouds blowing in over them and Zak knew they would likely see little of it during the night.

  “Let’s ride,” Zak said. “From now on, every minute counts.”

  Scofield and Rivers walked to their horses. Colleen lingered. She put a hand on Zak’s arm. There was a tenderness to her touch that stirred something inside him.

  “I hope your plan works, Zak. For Ted’s sake.”

  “Can you ride all night without falling off your horse, Colleen? We’ve a ways to go.”

  “Zak, I would ride anywhere with you. I want you to know that.”

  She squeezed his arm and moved closer to him. She tilted her head and he gazed down at her face. He could barely see it, but it seemed to him that her lips puckered slightly. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. She fell against him and he felt her trembling.

  “I think I’m…”

  He broke away, put a finger on her lips.

  “Don’t say it, Colleen. Not yet. Wait.”

  “Yes,” she breathed, and he watched her walk away toward her horse.

  He climbed onto Nox and took the lead, the others following close behind.

  In the distance he heard the murmur of thunder, and when he looked back over his shoulder, he could see flashes of lightning in the black clouds. He rode into the darkness, thinking of Trask and how he had murdered his father. There would be a day of reckoning, he knew, for Trask and for him.

  Then there was that blood sky of that morning. It carried a portent of much more than a storm. He took it as an omen, and he knew that was the Indian in him. Superstition. It could guide a man or defeat him. But the sky always spoke with a straight tongue.

  There would be blood spilled on the morrow.

  And the rain would wash it all back into the earth.

  A coyote broke the stillness with its querulous call, its voice rising up and down the scale in a melodious and lonesome chant that was almost as old as the earth itself.

  Nox whickered, and Zak patted him on the neck.

  He felt his blood quicken and run hot.

  “Trask,” he whispered to himself, “I’m coming for you, you bastard.”

  Zak and his horse were shadows moving across the dark land. Shadows as true and ominous as the bloody sunrise of that very morning.

  Again the coyote called, but it was different this time.

  The call came from a human throat.<
br />
  An Apache throat.

  About the Author

  JORY SHERMAN is the Spur Award-winning author of the westerns Song of the Cheyenne, The Medicine Horn, and Grass Kingdom, which was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize in Letters.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

  By Jory Sherman

  SHADOW RIDER: BLOOD SKY AT MORNING

  THE BARON HONOR

  BLOOD RIVER

  THE VIGILANTE

  TEXAS DUST

  THE BARON WAR

  THE BRAZOS

  ABILENE GUN DOWN

  SOUTH PLATTE

  VISIONS OF A LOST GIRL

  CHILL #1: SATAN’S SEED

  CHILL #2: SEPULCHRE

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  SHADOW RIDER: BLOOD SKY AT MORNING. Copyright © 2007 by Jory Sherman. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  ePub edition February 2007 ISBN 9780061736766

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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