Tom Horn And The Apache Kid Read Online Free PDF

asked.
    “Apaches,” said Sieber. “Hit a ranch about two miles west.”
    “Well, let’s go,” Crane responded eagerly.
    “Save your animal, Captain,” said Horn. “It’s too late to do those people any good.”
    It was.
    When Horn and the others arrived, the burned-out ranch was still smoldering. The contingent dismounted and found at least
     eight bodies, so horribly mutilated that Captain Crane vomited.
    The Apache Kid approached, carrying an empty whiskey bottle.
    “American?” Sieber asked, pointing to the label.
    The Kid nodded and handed the bottle to Sieber. Horn surveyed the devastation. “Took the cattle and the women. May as well
     bury what’s left of the rest.”
    The Kid motioned toward the retching young officer. “Something he ate?”
    Crane wiped his palm across his mouth and breathed heavily. “I…I’ve seen men killed before, but never anything as savage
     as this.”
    “Dead is dead.” Sieber spat.
    “Bad for them,” said the Kid, pointing toward the hacked-up bodies, “but good for us.”
    “What does he mean?” Crane asked Horn.
    “He means—now we’ve got tracks to follow.”

Chapter Five
    The column moved deeper into Mexico. Sieber rode ahead. The Apache Kid was nowhere in sight. Neither were the other Indian
     scouts. Crane kept his horse paced next to Horn’s buckskin. Suddenly, in the heat of the desert, Captain Crane’s body shuddered
     as if he were suffering a severe chill.
    “What’s wrong, Captain?” Horn asked.
    “I can’t get the sight of those mutilated bodies out of my mind.”
    “Apaches don’t like Mexicans.”
    “They have a grisly way of showing it.”
    “Yep,” said Horn. “Every chance they get. Always been that way.”
    “Why?”
    “
Quién sabe?
Maybe because a long time ago the Apaches started raiding the villages, so the Mexicans started offering rewards for Apache
     scalps.”
    “Money?”
    “Pesos. A hundred pesos for a male Apache scalp, fifty for a woman’s, twenty-five for a child’s—male or female. No questions
     asked.”
    “Is this still going on?”
    “Yep. Bad blood, and old Goklaya’s got a couple of reasons in particular.”
    “What reasons?”
    “Some years back the Rurales raided a Chiricahua camp and massacred some warriors and women, including Goklaya’s mother and
     his brand-new bride—girl named Alope.”
    “Mr. Horn, you seem to know all about Indians.”
    “Nobody knows
all
about Indians.” Horn pointed toward Al Sieber. “Sieber comes closest.”
    “I don’t think your chief of scouts likes me.”
    “Why say that?”
    “He hasn’t said three words to me in three days.”
    “He’s got nothing to say.”
    They rode for another hour before Crane spoke again. “I thought you said we had tracks to follow.”
    Horn nodded.
    “I don’t see any tracks, Mr. Horn.”
    “The outriders do.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean you can’t follow Apaches’ tracks directly, Captain. If you do they’re liable to double back and ’bush you. Got to
     do it panther style.”
    “Panther style?”
    “Yeah. We’re going parallel to ’em. Cross once a day, then travel parallel on the other side.”
    “That’s why we’ve been zigzagging?”
    “That’s why. They’ve already split up. Main bunch took the cattle. There’s five of them kept the women. Probably played for
     ’em.”
    “What do you mean, ‘played’?”
    “Gambled,” said Horn. “Apaches like a game called monte. And even if they don’t like Mexicans, they’ll mate with the women
     and produce sons who’ll kill more Mexicans.”
    Just then the Apache Kid galloped out of a ravinetoward them. He pulled his horse up to Sieber, as Horn and Crane also approached.
    “They’ll never be in a better spot for us,” the Kid beamed.
    “John Six-Killer!” Sieber hollered. “He Dog! Hump!”
    Three Apache scouts joined up with Sieber. Sieber waved and rode off. The Indian scouts followed. So did the Apache Kid.
    “Captain,” Horn