Chapter 1

The sun was setting behind me as I inspected the burned remains of the house. Eddy was doing the same for the barn. Those damned Navajos had made a real mess of things. The man and woman who once lived here were now buried in shallow graves; it was all I could do with the hardpan so near the surface. I hoped that they were at peace, now, considering the torment they went through while they were dying.

The evidence I have found shows that there were two kids here, also, but the Navajos must have taken them, since they are nowhere to be seen. Well, if they are young enough, the Navajos will adopt them into the tribe, so they will be reasonably safe until they can be rescued. Of course, by then, they may not want to be rescued. Oh, well, I can only do the best I can.

Normally, I’m a Deputy US Federal Marshal, but this damned Indian war has played hell with my normal duties. Right now, I’m hunting for the two nephews, one 3 and other 5, of the Federal Judge I report to. They were taken by Navajos in a situation very much like this one only two months ago, and he has asked me to find them if I can. Right now, I don’t even know where to look for the two boys, so I am just wandering around, doing what I can.

My name is Bill Haskell, and I’m a native Texan, though I have spent the last five years in the Arizona Territory, mostly around Prescott. I’m 6’-1” tall in my bare feet, and I weigh 176 pounds. My hair is dark brown and my eyes are a gray color that women have told me is “fascinating.” I think that I am pretty ordinary looking, but several women have called me handsome, and I admit to wishing that it were true.

I have a dog, Eddy, to whom I owe my life on several occasions. He is mostly mutt, but he is a big mutt. He must have a lot of Great Dane in him because of his size. He hates Indians of all breeds, so he does a good job of watching my back. He is big enough and strong enough to tear the throat out of a man, and I have seen him do it several times. Shit, I love that dog!

Well, it looks like we will be spending the night here, since it is getting too late to travel. There’s enough of the adobe wall of the barn standing to put my back against, so that’s where I’ll put my bedroll. At least, with Eddy around, there ain’t nobody what can sneak up on us unawares.

Dammit, that sun is bright, this morning. Even with my hat pulled low over my eyes, it’s still hard to see with all the glare. The trouble is, I still have to keep a sharp lookout if I expect to keep my hair, and I have become kind of attached to it over the years.

Oh, shit, I can hear gunshots, but I can’t see where they are coming from. Uh-oh, there’s some smoke over near those hills, I guess I had better take a look. “Come on, Eddy, it looks like trouble over west of here.”

Eddy can run pretty damned fast when he wants to, but I don’t want to wear him out. I keep the speed of my horse down to where Eddy can keep up, but not be too tired when we finally do come up on the trouble. It takes us 10 minutes to get close enough to see what’s going on. Shit, it looks like a dozen or so Navajos are attacking that house. The smoke is coming from inside the barn, so the people in the house may still be in pretty good shape. At least, I hope so.

Now, what’s going to be my best plan? Hmm, not all of the Indians have guns, some are still using bows and arrows. That’s good and that’s bad. The ones with guns are more likely to sit back and shoot, but the ones without guns are more likely to attack so that they can get guns. Why can’t life be easy once in a while?

Oh, damn! The roof of the house is now burning. The people can’t stay in there much longer, so I better get my ass into action. It looks like it’s time to dismount and start slinging lead. I pull my .44-40 Winchester from its saddle scabbard and fill my pockets with extra ammunition. Since both my revolvers, S&W top-break jobs, use the same .44-40 ammunition, I should be in good shape for something to shoot, at least for a while.

Eddy comes with me as we run for a little hillock to hide behind while I shoot. As soon as I get there, I drop to a prone position and line up my first shot. The guns are more dangerous to the people in the house at this point, so that’s where I start shooting.

I’m able to put down two of the Indians before they can figure out where the shooting is coming from. However, it doesn’t take long for them to find me, what with all of the powder smoke. One brave gets smart and tries to lob an arrow up high so that it can drop almost straight down on me, even though I am behind my hill. I didn’t see him launch his arrow, but I know enough to move around after firing a couple of shots. The result is that the falling arrow misses me by about a foot!

That’s enough of that shit! I send Eddy on an Indian hunt while I give him as much covering fire as I can manage. It works, because I soon hear a scream of pain from an Indian, and then a gurgle of air and blood escaping from a torn throat. I reload my rifle as fast as I can and resume pumping bullets into the area where I know the Indians must be. I have to keep an eye out for Eddy, but he knows enough to keep low when the bullets are flying.

Indians don’t like war dogs—they think of them as some kind of evil demon, so Eddy’s presence is often enough to break a siege of this sort. Whatever the reason, the Indians decide to leave for better pickings somewhere else. I do get a few final shots at them as they run away, and I even wing one. Even though I didn’t kill him outright, I would bet on his eminent death from gangrene.

I only managed to knock off three and Eddy got one, so that leaves about eight warriors who will be back as soon as they can get their good-luck charms recertified by the shaman. At least, that gives me a few hours to see what I can do to help whoever is left in the house.

“DON’T SHOOT! I’M A FRIEND! CAN I COME IN?”

I hear an answering shout from inside, so I fetch my horse and approach the house. Just as I get off my horse, I am grabbed from behind! Momentarily, that scares the shit out of me, but Eddy didn’t react, so I know that it’s OK, whatever it is that’s holding me.

I hear crying, so I assume that whatever is holding me is a human female, probably White, and certainly scared to death. As gently as I can, I free myself enough to turn around. As soon as I am facing her, the woman grabs me again in what seems like a death-grip. Meanwhile, tears are pouring down her face in what looks like an unstoppable torrent.

I do the only thing I reasonably can and wrap her in a close embrace. I have no trouble feeling her large breasts pushing against my chest, and her nipples are so hard that they seem to be drilling two holes right through me. We stand like that for about 15 minutes until she can finally get hold of her emotions. All this time, she has not said a word, and says nothing now as she suddenly steps back and grabs my hand to pull me into the house.

The main room is full of smoke, but she pulls me to a window where a man is slumped against the wall. He is obviously dead, with a bullet through his skull. There is a lot of blood and brains scattered about, proving that he died quickly and probably without pain. That’s something to be happy about when your are attacked by Indians.

The woman starts crying again, and I hold her as she gets it out of her system. This lasts 15 or 20 minutes, but I am starting to worry about a return of the Indians, probably with more help. Finally, the woman runs dry and I am able to get loose so that I can survey the situation.