Warpath (White Apache Book 2)
Page 15
Like a pouncing jaguar, Clay struck, jumping and stabbing, his knife sinking into Johnson’s shoulder. He had aimed for the heart but Johnson twisted at the last moment. Their bodies collided, and they fell.
Water as frigid as ice closed around Clay Taggart. He sank under the surface, felt firm footing under him, and went to shove upward just as a heavy body hurtled into his torso and steely fingers found his throat Ben Johnson had lost his knife but was no less deadly. Clay drove his blade at the scalp hunter’s ribs and found his wrist gripped by a vise.
Grappling mightily, they tossed this way and that, Clay striving to break the grip on his neck and arm while Johnson strove to strangle him. Since Clay had not taken a deep breath before going under, there was precious little air in his lungs. Whether from strangulation or drowning, his end was assured, unless he could break free.
Johnson was smirking. He held fast, preventing Clay from reaching the surface. Blood seeped from the killer’s wound, turning the water reddish.
No! Clay’s mind screamed. It couldn’t end this way! Dark spots danced before his eyes. He was weakening rapidly, his lungs on fire. In another few seconds his mouth would open and water would rush in, and that would be his finish. In desperation, he drove his knee into Johnson’s groin. The grip on his wrist slackened, just enough for him to wrench his arm loose and spear the knife where he had planted his knee. He felt the blade sink into yielding flesh and saw Johnson’s face reflect utter agony. Again Clay stabbed, and this time the scalp hunter released his neck and shot upward.
So did Clay. He gulped in air as he broke the surface and turned to discover Johnson was trying to scramble out. Two strokes brought Clay to the killer. Johnson, sensing his presence, whirled, and Clay sank his knife to the hilt into the man’s chest. Ben Johnson uttered a gasp, went rigid, and collapsed.
Clay did some gasping of his own as he wedged both elbows on solid ground and heaved out of the pool. His first thought was of Simms, but when he looked, he saw both the stocky scalp hunter and one of the horses were gone. The man must have been afraid there were more Apaches and fled for his life.
Sucking in air, Clay sat up and stared at the body now floating with arms outstretched. It was over, finally, gratefully, over. He would rest a spell, then go find the Apaches and take them to Delgadito. Within two weeks they would be back in the States.
Miles and Lilly Gillett had better watch out.
Epilogue
Update to all Commands from Headquarters, Fifth Cavalry
As a result of facts brought to light by the marshal of Tucson and the government of Mexico, the Adjutant-general’s office has deemed it prudent to relay certain crucial information concerning the reputed White Apache.
It can now be confirmed that a band of renegade Apaches include a white man among their number. As incredible as this is to accept, Marshal Tom Crane and a highly respected rancher, Mr. Miles Gillett, have given sworn testimonies to this effect. The Mexican government has provided supporting evidence.
In light of these developments, this headquarters is coordinating an effort with civilian authorities to track down and capture the White Apache, who has been identified as Arizonan Clay Taggart. In the interim, should any law officer at the town, county, state or federal level apprehend him, they have been advised to transfer him to military custody.
Pertinent personal information concerning the White Apache is as follows:
TRUE NAME: Clayton Stonewall Taggart
AGE: 24
HEIGHT: 6’2” WEIGHT: Estimated to be 190.
HAIR: Black EYES: Blue
IDENTIFYING MARKS: According to Taggart’s physician in Tucson, he has a two-inch scar on his left calf caused during a mishap involving a plow when he was only ten.
BACKGROUND: Until recently Taggart was a law-abiding rancher. For reasons that have yet to be established, he is believed to have tried to force himself on the wife of a neighbor and then killed one of the neighbor’s punchers who tried to intervene. A posse tracked him to the Dragoons where they lost his trail. It was assumed he had met his death at the hands of Apaches until he appeared about a month ago and tried to abduct the neighbor’s wife. (See Attachment #1.)
Just two days ago, this office received a report from Sonora concerning a raid by Apaches on the town of Sahuaripa. (See Attachment #2.) An American citizen in the employ of the Sonoran government, one Rufus Simms, has reported that a white man was with the war party.
As a result of the foregoing, this headquarters hereby directs all commands to step up their efforts to learn the whereabouts of this White Apache and to relay to this office, any information that might assist in his capture or extermination.
Make no mistake. Headquarters wants this man, alive if at all possible, so he can stand trial for his actions, but if circumstances do not warrant this action, then he is to be slain on the spot.
Further updates will be released as they are required.
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