Free Arizona Ambushers by Jon Sharpe Page A

again.
    Fargo was glad. He couldn’t afford to be distracted.
    As the afternoon waned, he found himself marveling at the stamina of those he was after. The women hadn’t slept a wink all night. Their only rest was that brief spell on the ridge. Yet they showed no sign of stopping anytime soon.
    They’d have to stop for the night, though. They couldn’t go two whole days without sleep.
    The thought made Fargo yawn. He figured the women would stop early, but although he watched the horizon with eagle eyes as the sun transformed into a red orb, he never once spotted the telltale smoke from a campfire.
    â€œI have another question,” Geraldine unexpectedly piped up.
    â€œI can’t wait,” Fargo said.
    â€œBe nice. I’ve been nice to you, haven’t I?” Without waitingfor an answer, Geraldine asked, “What do you plan to do once we overtake them? I know what
I
want to do. But you haven’t said whether you aim to take them alive or do what should be done.”
    When he’d first set out, Fargo had taken it for granted the killers were Apaches. He’d had no compunction at all about doing to them as they’d done to the troopers. But now things were different.
    â€œWell?” Geraldine prodded when he didn’t say anything.
    â€œTaking them alive would be best,” Fargo said. As a general rule, he didn’t shoot women if he could help it.
    â€œWhy go to all that bother? So what if they’re white? They deserve a bullet to the brain. Nothing less.”
    â€œI’m not a judge or a jury,” Fargo said.
    â€œSo? We walk up to them and do it. It’s as simple as that.”
    â€œAre you fixing to gun them in their bedrolls?” Fargo asked, only partly in jest.
    â€œIf it comes to that,” Geraldine said. “Weren’t you the one who told me I shouldn’t take chances?”
    â€œYes, but—”
    Geraldine held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it. You can’t say one thing one minute and change your mind later on. When we catch up, we’ll take them in their sleep and exterminate them.”
    â€œYou’re not to lift a finger against them without my say-so.”
    â€œThe hell you say,” Geraldine said. “I’ll do as I please, thank you very much.”
    Fargo smothered an urge to climb down, find a suitable rock and bean her with it.
    â€œYes, sir,” Geraldine said, more to herself than to him. “By this time tomorrow it should be over.”
    Fargo still didn’t see any smoke. If he didn’t spot some soon, he’d stop. He’d learned his lesson the night before.
    â€œHave you clammed up on me again?” Geraldine asked indignantly. “I swear, you’re the most contrary man I’ve ever set eyes on.”
    Fargo was about to tell her that she wasn’t easy to get along with, either, when fifty yards out or so, he saw a gleam of light. It was there and it was gone. If he’d blinked, he’d have missed it.
    The last of the sunlight . . . reflecting off a gun barrel.
    Fargo hurled himself from his saddle. He heard the boom of a shot as his arms went around Geraldine. She squawked in surprise, and they tumbled. Fargo tried to twist in midair so he would bear the worst of it but they thudded hard on their sides.
    Pain flared, and Fargo gritted his teeth and rolled, takingGeraldine with him. She was so confused she resisted. The crash of a second shot brought her head up.
    â€œSomeone is shooting at us!”
    None too gently, Fargo hauled her into some mesquite. “Keep your voice, and your head, down.” Wishing he had the Henry, he drew his Colt.
    Geraldine drew her own revolver, so awkwardly it was apparent she’d never used it. “Who’s doing the shooting? The outlaws? Or Apaches?”
    â€œStand up and ask them.”
    â€œYou just told me to keep my head down,” Geraldine said, and blinked. “Oh.