Suddenly Clay reached the top. Bullets were as thick as hail. They chewed into the ground and bit into boulders. A short jump would carry them out of reach, and he girded his legs.
Maria’s agony had dispelled her fear. She twisted, realized she was yards away from certain captivity, and threw herself forward, attempting to unbalance her captor.
The trick nearly worked. Clay dug his soles into the soil and clung to her, his biceps rippling. He fell to one knee for added purchase.
Fighting like a wildcat, Maria tried to break free. She screamed when he pulled her higher despite her frantic struggling.
Clay surged upward, hauling her over the rim. Maria tried to turn and scratch his eyes out. He gave her a cuff that brought blood to her lips, then locked her arm in a vise of iron and hastened upward.
When Major Filisola saw Maria vanish, his mind went blank with dread. He forgot his military training, forgot every rule he had ever learned about engaging Apaches in combat. Raising his saber on high, he sprinted up the ridge. “After them, men! Save the señorita!”
The Chiricahuas had held out as long as they dared. With soldiers coming at them from several directions, they had to get out of there. Delgadito melted into the boulders and was immediately joined by Fiero and Ponce. Cuchillo Negro delayed long enough to drop a vaquero; then he too made for the summit with the speed and agility of a mountain sheep.
To steal without being caught. To kill without being killed. Those were the Apache creeds. None of the warriors, including Cuchillo Negro, were willing to sacrifice themselves needlessly. They had done what they could to help Lickoyee-shis-inday. Whether he made it to the summit was entirely up to him.
Clay wasn’t far behind them. Maria had gone limp with shock and offered no resistance. Slugs zipped by now and then but none came close enough to pose a threat. He knew he had won, knew she was as good as his, and his smile returned.
The last stretch appeared, a tunnel of sorts formed by massive slabs that had toppled and leaned against one another. Clay ran through to the sunlight beyond. A few more strides brought him to the gap. He was ten feet below the summit. The Chiricahuas were already halfway to the other side. Cuchillo Negro beckoned him to hurry.
Troopers and vaqueros choked the trail. In the forefront was a young officer brandishing a saber, the look of a madman on his face.
Clay faced Maria. Tears ran down her cheeks and her shoulders shook in convulsive sobs.
“I hate you! I’ll hate you forever!” she said.
The White Apache knew differently. She would be just like other women taken by the Apaches. At first she would be moody and refuse to do as she was told. In time, though, she would realize her plight was hopeless and accept her fate and settle into the routine of Apache life. Much later, she might even come to enjoy living again.
Clay glanced at the warriors, then at the Mexicans. He reached out and caressed Maria’s chin. “You are mine, woman—if I wanted you.”
So saying, he kicked her in the stomach, knocking her off her feet and sending her tumbling down the slope. He lingered long enough to see the shocked amazement on her face when she sat up. Then he spun and ran.
The warriors were waiting. For once their emotions showed. Each wore a quizzical expression, and it was Cuchillo Negro who voiced the question uppermost on all their minds. “Why?”
“She was too weak to make a fitting wife,” Clay said. Taking charge, he led them toward the chaparral, where they would disappear as if the earth had swallowed them, while over the crown of the ridge came cries of joy.
WHITE APACHE 5: BLOODBATH
By David Robbins Writing as Jake McMasters
First Published by Leisure Books in 1994
Copyright © 1994, 2016 by David Robbins
First Smashwords Edition: February 2017
Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information or storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
Our cover features Land of Apache, painted by Andy Thomas, and used by permission.
Andy Thomas Artist, Carthage Missouri
Andy is known for his action westerns and storytelling paintings and documenting historical events through history.
This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book
Series Editor: Ben Bridges
Text © Piccadilly Publishing
Published by Arrangement with the Author.
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