Apache Vendetta Read Online Free PDF

and limp, his eyes pools of spite. “We reckoned we had you dead to rights from that alley.”
    â€œYou should have let it be,” Fargo said.
    â€œGo to hell.”
    â€œHow much did he pay you?”
    Gant didn’t answer.
    â€œSuit yourself,” Fargo said. “I’ll ask Link when I see him.”
    Gant gazed into the dark in the direction his brother had gone. “My own kin and he ran out on me.”
    â€œBastards do that.”
    More curses blistered the air. Gant could barely move his lips when he was done, and his chin and neck were covered with pink bubbles. “Finish me.”
    â€œWhy should I?”
    â€œI hurt,” Gant said. “I hurt awful bad.”
    â€œGood.”
    â€œI wish we’d plugged you.”
    â€œDid he pay you for that too or was it your idea?”
    â€œGo to hell.”
    â€œYou first,” Fargo said.
    Gant’s whole body shook, and he groaned. “Damn you, anyhow.”
    â€œYou can take forever in pain or you can tell me what I want to know.”
    Gant licked his lips, or tried to. He groaned louder and said, “I hate you.”
    â€œI remember a gent who was lung-shot like you,” Fargo mentioned. “It took him twelve hours.”
    Gant swore, and convulsed, and said weakly, “All right. All right. He paid us five dollars each to stomp you. That was all we were supposed to do.”
    â€œIt was enough,” Fargo said.
    â€œYou made fools of us and it made us mad. So we figured to buck you out, permanent.”
    â€œYou are piss-poor at being assassins.”
    â€œGo to hell.”
    â€œEnjoy your pain.” Fargo started to turn.
    â€œWait. You said you would if I told you, and I told you.”
    â€œThat’s right. I did.” Fargo lowered the Henry’s muzzle to Gant’s forehead. “Any last words?”
    â€œYou are one mean bastard.”
    â€œI know,” Fargo said, and squeezed.

10
    Haylofts were better than hotels when it came to bedding down. They were usually quiet and the hay made a soft mattress.
    Fargo slept in until noon, stirring only now and again as troopers went about their daily routine below.
    No one bothered him. He doubted they knew he was there.
    His stomach was rumbling when he sat up and stretched and gazed out the hayloft door at soldiers once again drilling on the parade ground. He scratched and put his hat on, and stood.
    Bits of hay had stuck to his buckskins. He brushed them off as he moved to the ladder.
    A private was putting a bridle on a sorrel and looked surprised when Fargo climbed down. “What in blazes were you doing up there, mister?”
    â€œCounting the hay,” Fargo said. He went out and over to the horse trough. Unlike the trough in town, the army kept theirs full. Placing his hat aside, he dipped his head in, then shook it and sent drops flying.
    The temperature was pushing one hundred, and the water felt good dribbling down his chest and back. He put his hat back on and ambled to the sutler’s. He supposed the colonel wouldn’t mind if he ate at the mess but he wasn’t in the mood to mingle. He bought peaches, instead.
    His fingers were as good as a spoon. Squatting in front of the stable, he bit the delicious halves in half and hungrily chewed. He was about halfway through when the same orderly from the day before came hurrying over and stood at attention.
    â€œSir, Colonel Hastings sent me.”
    â€œRelax, boy. I’m not an officer.”
    â€œHe saw you from the window and he said for me to tell you that you don’t need to wait until two o’clock. You can come see him now.”
    â€œLet him know I’ll be there in a bit.”
    â€œYes, sir.” The orderly did an about-face and ran back.
    â€œKids,” Fargo said. He ate the rest of the peach halves and washed them down with the sweet syrupy juice. His fingers were sticky so he washed them in the trough, adjusted his