Free Arizona Ambushers by Jon Sharpe

the bushwhackers were women. There was no predicting how she’d react. She was smart enough to know that caution was called for when tangling with Apaches. But other women? She might charge off to confront them.
    Just then Geraldine cleared her throat. “I have a question.”
    Fargo grunted.
    â€œI’m not a tracker. I can’t read sign like you do.” Geraldine motioned at the tracks they were following. “But I’m not stupid, either. And unless I’m badly mistaken, the horses we’re following are all shod.”
    â€œThey are,” Fargo said.
    Geraldine’s brow knit. “Everyone knows Indians don’t ride shod horses. Or do they?”
    â€œThey don’t, unless it’s one they’ve stolen from a white.”
    â€œThen”—Geraldine regarded the tracks with puzzlement—“that means Apaches weren’t to blame.”
    â€œIt does.”
    â€œGod in heaven,” Geraldine exclaimed. “Are you telling me the bastards who murdered my husband are white?”
    â€œIt would appear so,” was all the further Fargo would commit himself.
    â€œOutlaws!” Geraldine declared. “Here I thought it was savages and it’s outlaws.” She smacked her leg in anger. “How many? You must be able to tell, as good as folks say you are.”
    â€œFive,” Fargo said.
    â€œThat’s all? Five men wiped out my husband and all those soldiers?”
    â€œThe outlaws had rifles and they were well hid.” Fargo imagined that most of the troopers fell at the first volley.
    â€œWhite men!” Geraldine said. “This changes everything.”
    â€œWhite or red, it makes no difference.”
    â€œNot to you maybe. You’re used to fighting Indians, as you keep pointing out. I’m not, and I don’t mind confessing I was worried about what would happen when I caught up to them.” Geraldine squared her shoulders. “Not now. Whites don’t scare me a lick. I can hold my own with them.”
    â€œYou’re awful confident all of a sudden.”
    â€œWhy shouldn’t I be? When it comes to killing, whites can’t hold a candle to Apaches.”
    She had him there, Fargo mused. But it wouldn’t do for her to become too cocky. “It’s not as if they’ll give up without a fight.”
    â€œI don’t want them to,” Geraldine said. “Let them do their worst. I aim to kill every last one of the sons of bitches.”
    On that note she fell silent.
    Fargo devoted himself to the sign, and to constantly scanning the surrounding countryside.
    In time the tracks led up an incline to a ridge. There, the outlaws had stopped, no doubt to do some scanning of their own. Several had climbed down and stretched their legs.
    Fargo didn’t want Geraldine to get a good look at the footprints. Barely slowing, he pushed on.
    â€œIt looks as if they rested a bit,” Geraldine remarked. “I wouldn’t mind stopping for a while, myself.”
    â€œYou’re more than welcome to,” Fargo said, hoping she wouldn’t.
    â€œBut you’re not going to? And why is that?”
    â€œThey’re far enough ahead as it is.”
    Geraldine eyed him suspiciously. “Is that the real reason you won’t mind if I stop? Or is it because you think you can lose me? Maybe wipe out the tracks so I can’t follow?”
    â€œI wouldn’t do that to you.”
    â€œAren’t you noble all of a sudden?” Geraldine said sarcastically. “Well, you can think again. I’m not stopping if you’re not. You won’t get rid of me that easy.”
    â€œYou saw right through me,” Fargo said dryly.
    â€œI knew it. You only agreed to let me come because you’re hoping to throw me off the scent somehow. Admit it.”
    â€œAnyone ever tell you how pretty you are when you’re mad?”
    â€œHank used to.”
    She fell silent