Free High Wild Desert by Ralph Cotton Page B

face. “If you want my opinion, Ranger, you’d do well to walk him out and put a bullet in his head.”
    Lang glared at him; the Ranger just stared blankly. Adele looked away as if not hearing any of it.
    â€œThank you for your
opinion
,
Corporal,” Sam said in a stiff tone.
    Lang noted the Apache scout’s dark eyes showing a sharp flash of humor move across them.
    â€œWell, then . . . ,” the corporal said, collecting himself after an icy silence. “Is there anything else we can do for you, Ranger?”
    â€œNo,” Sam said flatly. He continued his cold stare.
    â€œIn that case,” said the corporal, “my scout and I will ride down and sweep this valley floor to its end and meet the rest of our detail while they surround these bad actors.” He smiled haughtily and added, “I can assure you this trail will be safe by dark.”
    Sam said flatly, “I’m hoping we’ll be in New Delmar before nightfall.”
    â€œI hope you will mention to the citizenry there that we are out here doing a striking job, protecting this frontier from these murdering red heathens.”
    Sam didn’t reply, but he slid a look at the Apache scout and saw that his blank eyes had gone back to some dark, guarded place.
    As the two men took their horses by their reins and stepped over the edge of the canyon wall, leading the animals beside them, Sam shoved his rifle down into its boot, picked up his telescope and raised it to his eye again.
    â€œDon’t feel like you had to protect my personal business from him,” Lang said as Sam scanned a cloud of dust at the far end of the canyon floor.
    â€œI didn’t do it to protect your personal business,” Sam said as he spotted the band of renegades riding along, each of them with his shirt off, the sleeves tied around his neck, all supporting bloody bundles of horse meat resting on their laps. “You’re
my business
as long as you’re my prisoner.”
    He scanned a thousand yards ahead of the renegades and saw the cavalry detail riding straight toward them. Without mentioning what was about to happen out there on the dusty desert floor, he shut the telescope between his gloved hands and turned to his stallion.
    Within moments, the three had mounted and ridden on along the rim of the canyon in the direction of New Delmar. Ten minutes later they heard the cacophony of gunfire rumble up the canyon walls ahead of them and echo out across the high desert hills.
    â€œThere went Mexico,” Lang said, and they rode on.

Chapter 7

    When the trail along the canyon spilled onto the stretch of rock and flatlands, the Ranger noted the gunfire ahead of them had stopped. In its place, a thousand yards beyond the Ranger, Lang and Adele, lay a low cloud of red trail dust and gray-black gun smoke. Out of the looming smoke a thin rising stream of red dust swirled toward them through a wall of towering buttes and chimney rock. A short distance behind the stream of trail dust, another wider, thicker stream began to rise. Shots began to ring out again.
    â€œGood heavens,” said Adele Simpson, “what now?” She gave the Ranger a worried look.
    â€œMy guess is that one of the braves managed to get away,” Sam replied. He nodded out toward the distant trail. “I’d say right now the army is in hot pursuit.” He looked out for a moment toward the shooting, then said, “Come on, let’s not get caught in their fire.” He gestured to Adele and Lang ahead of him, motioning toward a stand of rock twenty yards to their right.
    Sam slid Black Pot to a halt at the foot of a jagged steep rock and handed Adele his reins and his Winchester. Telescope in hand, he stepped out of his saddle onto the rock and climbed five feet up onto a narrow ledge. Standing tall against the high rock, he stretched his telescope out and leveled it in the direction of the oncoming gunfire.
    In the circle of