Cry of Eagles Read Online Free PDF Page B

us,” Naiche told her, even though her wisdom was as great as any member of the tribe, she having lived for more than thirty winters. As a young girl she had been chosen to be a sixth wife of Cochise, before the old chief died. She had never taken a husband or given birth to children, preferring war over the traditional life of an Apache woman.
    â€œMany are afraid, Naiche. The soldiers and their cages have broken their spirits.”
    â€œIt is true. Some of our bravest warriors no longer have the will to fight. Even Geronimo cannot reach them when he begs them to join us. They are dead in spirit, and only their weary bodies live on at the stinking white man’s reservation.”
    Chokole nodded, the copper scent of blood still strong on the scalps tied to her belt. “Geronimo tells them this place called San Carlos is the worst. They dug a hole in the ground and covered it with logs, tossing scraps of food to him like a dog, forcing him to live in his own excrement. I was with the Chiricahuas on Salt Creek when the soldiers brought him there in chains, covered with his own filth, starving, blood dripping from his wrists and ankles where the chains cut into his flesh. But when he looked at me, even though his head was bowed, I saw the same fire in his eyes. They could not break his spirit, and they could not break yours while you were in the cages. You are a brave chief, Naiche.”
    He accepted her compliment in silence, for deep inside he knew he would never be the fighter Geronimo was “I fight for my people, Chokole. More will join us soon. Until that time comes we must continue to raid the white-eyes and take their repeating rifles and bullets. When Isa comes with warriors and guns from Fort Thomas, we will be much stronger. Then we will attack the larger ranches and white man’s villages, until we burn them all from the face of Earth Mother. It is The Way.”
    The call of an owl came from a distant mountaintop, a signal from Otoe that no one was following them. The tracks made by the white-eyes’ iron horseshoes were hard to wipe away from the earth with a mesquite or pinyon branch, and Naiche had worried that someone who could read sign might lead the soldiers to them. Without iron tools other than simple knives there was no way to remove the iron from the stolen mules and horses.
    â€œNo one comes,” Chokole said needlessly, for she knew Naiche recognized the call of the owl made by Otoe.
    â€œThe Four Spirits are smiling. We have food and strong horses, and mule meat, and the cattle will keep the children and women alive in spite of their bad taste.”
    Chokole grunted her agreement, taking the Winchester when Naiche offered it to her.
    â€œI will show you how to load and fire it,” he said, “but we have no bullets to waste, only three boxes. Once you understand how the bullets travel in and out of the barrel, and the way it must be loaded, it will be enough until we engage the enemy in battle.”
    â€œWill we fight again soon?” she asked, peering down at the rifle and its strange loading gate.
    â€œAs soon as our warriors’ strength returns. They have been hungry for many suns, and now we have plenty. Before the new moon comes, we will strike again near the white mans’ town they call Tombstone. There is a ranch to the south. I have watched it for two suns, and there are few white-eyes to guard it. I counted only five.”
    She held the Winchester to her shoulder, looking between its sights. “With this I can kill six of the enemy without reloading. I must have one, and we must find more for the others very quickly.”
    * * *
    Isa led fourteen silent shadows among the barracks at Fort Thomas. Only three, including Isa, carried knives, while the rest had no weapons.
    They crept to a corner of the building where rifles and ammunition were kept under the watchful eye of two soldiers.
    Isa whispered to a young warrior beside him. “I