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POOR COWBOY SAVED A 22-YEAR-OLD APACHE GIRL — THEN THE WHOLE TOWN TURNED AGAINST HIM

Chapter 11

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Not two horses. Not five.A herd. A war party.Naelli grabbed Jake’s canvas sleeve, her fingers biting into his arm with astonishing strength. Her face was pale, her dark eyes filled with a sudden, overwhelming dread that he had never seen in her before."Riders!" she gasped, her voice trembling."From where?" Jake shouted over the growing roar.She pointed a shaking hand straight toward the darkening peaks of the Dragoon Mountains."My people," she whispered. "They come for me... or they come for fire!"Before the words had even cleared her lips, a blood-curdling war cry echoed down through the red sandstone canyon—a high, piercing sound that cut through the evening air like a silver blade!From the crest of the eastern ridge, thirty mounted figures appeared against the crimson horizon! They rode low over their horses' necks, their long dark hair streaming in the wind, their rifles and lances held high against the dying light!Panicked screams erupted down the length of Silver Creek’s main street!"Apaches! Apaches!" a man screamed from the porch of the general store!Doors slammed shut everywhere! Heavy wooden bolts were thrown into iron brackets! Women shrieked, dragging their children through open doorways, while men scrambled wildly across the dirt road, dropping packages and cards as they ran for cover!Sheriff Ellis burst out of his office, his revolver drawn, shouting frantically: "Get inside! Everyone get inside and hold your fire!"Up the street, outside the Golden Spur, Briggs and his six ranch hands stumbled out onto the boardwalk, their faces pale with sudden, terrifying sobriety. They drew their revolvers, their hands shaking so violently they could barely hold the steel.The mounted war party swept down from the ridge like an avalanche of dust, stone, and iron! They hit the flat dirt trail leading into town at a thunderous gallop, thirty horses moving as a single, deadly machine!At the head of the column rode a tall, broad-chested warrior mounted on a magnificent appaloosa horse. He wore a painted deer-hide vest, heavy leather leggings, and three eagle feathers braided into his long black hair. His face was painted in stark horizontal bands of black charcoal and red ochre—the traditional paint of an Apache war chief seeking blood.Jake pushed Naelli behind his back, stepped to the top of the cabin stairs, and raised his Winchester rifle to his shoulder, his thumb resting on the cold hammer.The appaloosa horse swept into the yard in front of Dr. Reeves’s cabin, pulling up so hard its hooves dug deep trenches into the dusty soil, spraying gravel against the wooden steps!The thirty warriors circled behind him, forming a tight, deadly crescent of iron, wood, and horseflesh that completely cut off the doctor’s house from the rest of the town.The war chief sat motionless on his dancing horse, his dark eyes burning like hot coal through the red face paint. He held a heavy repeating rifle resting across his saddle bow, his chest heaving with exertion.He looked down at Jake Turner standing alone on the porch with a single rifle.
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POOR COWBOY SAVED A 22-YEAR-OLD APACHE GIRL — THEN THE WHOLE TOWN TURNED AGAINST HIM

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