By Brian Garfield
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Extra resources for Apache Canyon
As the Indian advanced, certain things became visible to Brady: Tonio carried a Springfield cavalry carbine, and there was a long scabbed bruise across his shoulder where one of the guards must have struck him during his escape. He was seventeen, wiry and brown. The bodies of horses obscured sight of him when he made his final twenty-yard run to the corral. Brady's thumb eared the Winchester's hammer back; still, he made no move. The oncoming Indian's run was soundless, the practiced run of a hunter.
Right now the major could see on the saloon porch a gathering of men in soiled vests and patched flannel shirts. These were the ranchers, talking among themselves. He knew what they talked about: Why hasn't the army gone after Inyo yet? Whafs the army waiting for? In another day or two a delegation of ranchers would again invade his office and press him for answers he could not give. The major shook his head and batted dust from his sleeves, and turned inside the office. Here it was even more stifling than on the porch.
Or any other perceptive young woman. Funny, the major mused. I had it in mind that Harris was pretty well interested in Sadie Rand. For the good of harmony on the post, it might be well to have a talk with Justin Harris. " McCracken frowned. "I'm beginning to feel I spoke out of turn, Major. " "No, sir," McCracken said. "I didn t think you had," the major said, suppressing the beginnings of a smile. McCracken got up and came around his desk. The chevrons on his sleeve were dusty and faded. "I've served with some pretty good officers in my time, Major," he said, and clapped his hat on his head and waddled corpulently out the door, out of sight, leaving Major Cole alone in the room trying to puzzle out just what the sergeant-major had meant by his parting remai'k.