Moontrap - Don Berry Read Online Free PDF

darkness, and Monday could see no
expression on the smaller man's face. His voice had changed. He spoke
quietly but coldly all the lilt gone.
    "When René Devaux has a wife, he is leaving her
in the tribe, with her own people. Is the difference between us,
friend of me."
    Devaux jerked sharply on the reins, wheeling his
horse up the path to intersect the main road. After a moment, Monday
gently heeled his own horse, following slowly "Hya," he
said softly.
" Move."
    2
    Monday and Devaux caught up with the creeping column
a mile or so farther on. They let their horses plod along at the slow
walk dictated by the screaming wagon ahead. Monday wished to christ
somebody had seen to the wagon on the way down, but nobody was
interested enough. In the desert country they had come through up the
Columbia, all the moving parts had shrunk from the dryness, and
nothing fitted properly any more. Every turn of the wheel raised a
grating shriek that pierced his ears like the shrill screams of a
butchered pig. He wondered if he was the only one in the column
bothered by it; nobody else seemed to pay any attention. He gritted
his teeth.
    It was dark now, but there was a full moon so bright
it cast sharply defined shadows, illuminating the column with a pale
blue luminescence. The line of riders ahead was a processional of the
damned under the ghostly light, and the wagon shrieked incessantly
like a soul tortured for eternity. Monday shook his head, trying to
rid himself of the eerie thoughts. Devaux turned slightly in the
saddle to look at him, then looked away again.
    One of the soldiers came riding down the line,
checking on the mounted Indians, giving gratuitous instruction,
keeping them organized, as if it mattered. As he passed, Devaux said
to Monday loud enough for the soldier to hear, "The militaire ,
he are in control, no? Is a comfort to me."
    The soldier passed on. Monday looked at the
straggling group of Indians, perhaps thirty of them, who had paid no
attention whatever to the organizational instincts of the military.
    " They make me nervous," he said to Devaux.
    "Womens and childrens?" Devaux said.
    " They didn't have to come. Why'n hell couldn't
they of stayed home?"
    Devaux shrugged. " C'est
normal ca . WhenI am hanged, all my friends
and relatives come to see also."
    Monday shifted his position in the saddle, stretching
his shoulders.
    " You also will come to my hanging," Devaux
said. "I think maybe is a ver' interesting thing to see, a
friend of you who dance in the air, no?" The Frenchman suddenly
reached over and grabbed the blue military cap from Monday's head.
With a broad swing of his arm he sailed it off into the bushes.
    "Rainy, god damn—"
    " I think is too tight for you, the chapeau .
It makes a pression on the brain, no?"
    Monday grinned at him. "Might could be you're
right."
    Devaux shrugged. "Me,
I wear it ver' well."
    ***
    It was nearly nine o'clock when they reached the
outskirts of Oregon City, their entrance heralded long before by the
squeaking wagon wheels. The manacled prisoners in the wagon were
awake now, and sitting up. Monday saw the lean, bony face of Tamahas
turning to look contemptuously at his surroundings. Then, not caring,
he lay back down in the wagon bed.
    Monday shook his head. It had been Tamahass hatchet
that had destroyed the beauty of Narcissa Whitman, slashing away at
that gentle, pale face until nothing remained but an unrecognizable
pulp of blood, flesh, and splinters of bone. He was a bad one, Monday
thought, the kind of man you could never reach and always made you
wonder what God had in mind.
    A crowd of sorts had gathered to watch their
triumphal entry into the town. They lined the street in thin,
scattered bunches. Children scampered around the groups, shouting and
playing incomprehensible games. For them it was a holiday, a
mysterious hour's reprieve from bedtime, and they profited.
    "Murderin' red bastards! Hang 'em!"
    Monday heard the shout ahead, and picked out the
group from