Shadow on the Sun Read Online Free PDF Page A

Something was dragging at his legs. His feet were stone. Gasping for breath, he ran along the alley in a daze until he reached the fence that blocked his way. There he spun around, a dry, convulsive rattling in his throat.
    The man stopped, close. He was very big, broad-shouldered, a massive statue of a man. Little Owl pressed against the cold, wet fence, looking at him. He could not speak or breathe or think. All he could do was stare with frozen eyes, unable to comprehend the horror that stood before him.
    The man spoke in Apache.
    â€œYou will help me,” he said.
    Little Owl jerked back against the fence, a dull cry pulling at his lips. The man took a step closer. Little Owl tried to scream, but only a witless bubbling came from his mouth.
    â€œ
You will help me
,” said the man.
    Abruptly, the eyes rolled back in Little Owl’s head and, with a gagging whine, he crumpled to the ground, landing face down in the mud.
    The man came over slowly and stood beside the body. He looked down at it with unmoving eyes, eyes without emotion. Then he turned and walked back out of the alley.
    Â 
    ______
    Â 
    Finley set his glass down. “I’m off again,” he said.
    â€œWhere to now?” asked Appleface.
    â€œWell, they’re not in town,” said Finley, “I’m sure of that. I guess I’ll have to help Al look around outside of town.”
    â€œIs that where he is?”
    Finley nodded. “He rode out about an hour ago.”
    The Indian agent laid a coin beside his empty glass. “See you later,” he said, then smiled wryly. “Seems like I already said that,” he added.
    â€œWhat are you knockin’ your brains out for?” Appleface asked him. “The Corcoran boys ain’t your worry.”
    â€œAl thinks the Apaches are involved,” said Finley. “That
is
my worry.”
    He punched Kelly lightly on the arm. “And I don’t like to worry,” he said.
    â€œDon’t get wet now,” Appleface told him.
    Finley chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said.
    He walked across the room and put his hat and slicker on, then pushed out through the doors and started north toward the livery stable. Finley didn’t see the tall figure coming up the walk from the opposite direction.
    Inside the saloon, Kelly picked his drink up and carried it across the room to where the Dailey brothers, Lon and Earl, were playing blackjack.
    â€œGet in the next hand, boys?” he asked.
    â€œSure,” said Lon. “Sit down.”
    Kelly had barely settled in his chair when the man came in.
    â€œHey, hey, hey,” muttered Appleface.
    The Dailey brothers glanced at him, then, as Kelly tipped his head toward the doorway, they looked in that direction.
    Lon Dailey whistled under his breath.
    The man was big. So big that the clothes he wore, though made for a large frame, clung to him tightly, the sleeve ends high on his thick wrists, the pants cuffs riding far up on his mud-spattered boots.
    â€œWho the hell is he?” Earl Dailey murmured.
    â€œI never seen him before,” said Appleface.
    By now they were not the only ones in the saloon looking with covert curiosity at the man. He did not seem to notice it, however, or, if he did, he gave it no attention. Standing immobile in the doorway, the rain-dripping hat too high on his skull, his gaze moved slowly, searchingly, around the room.
    â€œWhat in hell’s he lookin’ for?” Lon Dailey whispered through his teeth.
    â€œ
Who
in hell’s he lookin’ for?” Kelly whispered back, masking the movement of his lips with a squeezing tug at his nose.
    â€œI’m glad it ain’t me,” whispered Earl Dailey.
    Appleface squinted at the man suddenly.
    â€œIs he an
Injun
?” he wondered aloud.
    The three of them looked carefully at the man. Strangely enough, they couldn’t tell if he was an Indian or not. If swarthiness were the only