Arizona Ambushers Read Online Free PDF

Bremmer proudly held up the bloody piece of lead. “The bullet is out. We can bandage him and go.”
    Just then the Ovaro raised its head and pricked its ears. It was staring at the north slope.
    Fargo’s gut told him they had run out of time. He thought he saw movement and jerked the Henry up. Without taking his eyes off the spot, he said, “Bremmer, we have company.”
    The officer and his men were on their feet in an instant, carbines in hand.
    â€œGet Private Jackson on his horse,” Lieutenant Bremmer ordered. “And be quick about it.”
    â€œBut the bandage?” a man said.
    â€œIt will have to wait. Hurry now. If they catch us in a cross fire, we’re done for.”
    Fear lent speed to their efforts. Three of them placed Jackson on his mount and tied him in place as Fargo had done with Major Waxler.
    â€œWhat are the savages waiting for?” Lieutenant Bremmer whispered. “Why don’t they attack?”
    As if they had heard him, high on the north slope a swarthy figure popped up from behind a boulder and squeezed off a shot. Evidently that was a signal. Warriors commenced to fire from both sides.
    Fargo squeezed off two shots and darted to the Ovaro. It was time to get out of there.
    The troopers were working their single-shot carbines as rapidly as they could.
    Swinging on, Fargo snapped a shot at an Apache but was sure he missed. “What are you waiting for?” he roared at the soldiers. “Get on your damn horses!” If they didn’t, it would be another massacre. He felt a tug at the whangs on his left sleeve and answered in kind.
    â€œTo horse! To horse!” Lieutenant Bremmer shouted.
    The troopers scrambled to climb on their mounts. A lanky youth was almost on his when he was hit between the shoulder blades. Arching his back, he shrieked and toppled.
    Fargo covered them as best he could. Trying to hit an Apache, though, was like trying to hit a ghost. They rarely showed themselves, and when they did they were gone again in the bat of an eye.
    Lacking targets, Fargo fired at their gun smoke, hoping to keep them pinned down.
    Lieutenant Bremmer and two others were mounted. A last man was trying to climb on but his horse was panicked and shied each time he raised his boot to the stirrup.
    â€œHurry, man, hurry!” Bremmer bawled.
    Reining over, Fargo grabbed the spooked mount’s bridle.
    â€œGet on!” he yelled, holding tight as the horse attempted to pull loose.
    More war whoops added to the din. Additional warriors had arrived.
    The moment the trooper was on, Fargo played a hunch.
    The Apaches probably expected them to continue west, not to double back. Not when some of the war party were between the troopers and the fort. But that was exactly what Fargo intended doing. “Stay close!” he bellowed, and reined around.
    Lieutenant Bremmer and the surviving soldiers galloped after him.
    Fargo was almost clear of the slopes when a warrior hurtled at him, a knife clasped in his hand. Leaping, the Apache slashed at Fargo’s leg but Fargo reined aside and kept going.
    One of the troopers wasn’t as fortunate. The warrior pounced as the soldier raced by and managed to seize the man’s leg. Clinging on, the Apache thrust his blade into the trooper’s ribs.
    Fargo rode for all he was worth, the heat be damned. The soldiers who were left were right behind.
    Rifles boomed on the heights but none of them were brought down. The shooting stopped once they were out of range. Apaches weren’t ones for wasting ammunition, not when it was so hard for them to come by.
    Bremmer shouted Fargo’s name but Fargo wasn’t about to slow down until he was certain they were out of danger.
    They went around a bend, and found a surprise. Not twenty yards from the road were nine Apache mounts, left there when the warriors went ahead on foot.
    The Apaches hadn’t left a guard but that wasn’t surprising. No warrior