The Peacemaker Read Online Free PDF Page A

real lucky. Thought for sure this old wagon was gonna roll." When she started to move around, he slipped a hand beneath her back and raised her up, propping her against her carpetbag.
    He offered her the round, canvas-covered canteen, and she drank greedily, swallowing down several large mouthfuls before she actually got a taste of it. It hit her all of a sudden. She made a face and shuddered simultaneously. The water was cool but had a distinctly metallic flavor.
    In spite of its repulsive taste or maybe because of it, Indy was suddenly able to think more clearly. She knew she hadn't fainted—she never fainted. But obviously she had blacked out for a moment or two. Curious now about the sergeant's description of her injury, she reached up and touched the injured area. He was right. It was the size of a bird's egg, and the way it was throbbing, she thought it might even hatch.
    "Hey, Sarge! You got any more water in that canteen?"
    Surprised by the voice, Indy grabbed at the sergeant's forearm and pulled herself up onto her side. She saw a small group of soldiers gathered next to a large boulder several yards behind the ambulance. Their images were blurry, but the blue—the wonderful cavalry blue of their fatigue blouses—broke through the blur and she felt a soothing rush of relief.
    It was a miracle. Odds had been against any of them surviving and yet here they were. Later, when she had her wits about her, she would have to ask Sergeant Moseley how they had managed to run the Apaches off.
    The trooper who had asked about the water detached himself from the group and ran over to the ambulance. "Shatto says the arrow has to come out now, else Cap will bleed to death. What should we do?"
    "Shadow." Indy repeated the word in a whisper. Or was it a name? She vaguely remembered the captain mumbling a word that sounded similar. On a sudden thought, she spoke the captain's name and bolted upright.
    Moseley caught her by the shoulders, stopping her from going any farther. Over her head he answered the trooper's question. "If he says it's gotta come out, it's gotta come out. Shatto knows what he's doin'. Probably better than Doc when it comes to arrow wounds."
    Inside Indy's head shades of black, gray, and white whirled, swirled, mixed, and separated like a kaleidoscope. She moaned at the shifting, dizzying patterns. "The captain," she said with an effort, "where is he?" She felt an urgent need to see for herself that he was still alive and if there was something she could do to help him.
    Sergeant Moseley pointed to the group of troopers. "He's bein' well taken care of. Ain't nothin' you can do. Shatto's gonna take out the arrow—"
    There was that word again. "Shadow?" she interrupted. "Did you say shadow?"
    Moseley gave a wry smile, lifted his hand, and scratched his beard-stubbled cheek with a dirt-stained finger. "There's times I think he is a shadow, the way he shows up all of a sudden like, right there beside you. But no, ma'am. It ain't shadow, it's Shatto," he emphasized the two t's. "And he's a—" At a voice behind him, Moseley glanced over his shoulder, then leaned back on his heels. "Speakin' of shadows . . . ."
    It was just like before: the Apache appeared at the back of the ambulance. Only now her fear had a name: Shatto. She would have screamed had she been able to find her voice, but it had become lodged in her throat. She threw herself against the sergeant and held on tight.
    Her gaze met with the Apache's and she went breathless with fear.
    The dark moments Indy had lost came into her head like the awakening blast of a sunrise reveille. He'd been touching her, her breasts, her stomach, her abdomen, and she'd been too winded, too afraid, and too much in pain to fight him or even make a verbal protest. Then, he'd withdrawn his blood stained hand and raised himself off her. She'd closed her eyes, sucked in great gasps of air, and when she'd opened them again . . . Sergeant Moseley.
    It wasn't just like before, she