Apache Moon Read Online Free Page A

held it together, put it into her pocket, and realized that she was alone.
    Duane was out of sight as Phyllis perched beside the dead Apache woman. The victim appeared in her mid-thirties, with a round face and slanted eyes. “May the Lord have mercy upon your soul,” Phylliswhispered. Then she turned and ran back toward the water hole.
    Marshal Dan Stowe walked down the only street of Shelby, heading toward a house at the edge of town. The night was cool, and he wore his black leather vest over his white canvas shirt, with a blue bandanna wrapped around his neck. A cheroot was stuck in his teeth, and his fingers hooked the front pockets of his jeans.
    A blanket of diamonds covered the sky, the moon nearly full. Marshal Dan Stowe thought of distant worlds and the paths of history. Sometimes he felt as if he'd lived two lives: first as an officer in the great Civil War, and the second was his current life. He'd participated in the most massive cavalry battles in the history of the world, and once General George Armstrong Custer had shaken his hand, but now his hand had accepted a bribe like any other crooked lawman, judge, or jurist.
    Stowe wanted to return the money, but whenever he reached that decision, he thought about beautiful women with colorful parasols strolling alongside the Thames. All his life he'd wanted to go to the land of Robert Louis Stevenson, Sir Walter Scott, and Charles Dickens. I'll bring Big Al's daughter back home either way, so it's not as if I'm selling my country down the river, or helping a real criminal to escape.

    He approached a lopsided house and recalled the business at hand. Lieutenant Dawes was on a scout, but the lawman hoped to talk with Mrs. Dawes about the ticklish situation that had surfaced in the course of the investigation. According to the testimony of important civilians, it appeared that Duane Braddock was arrested because he'd been planking the lieutenant's wife. The lawman smiled sardonically as he rapped his knuckles on the door.
    It was opened by a soldier with a nose like a potato, wearing a white apron, with his sleeves rolled up. The first thing the soldier saw was the badge on Marshal Stowe's vest, and an expression of terror came over his face because he was wanted for armed robbery in Baltimore.
    â€œI'd like to speak with Mrs. Dawes on official business.”
    â€œYes, sir!”
    The soldier turned abruptly and nearly collided with a tall, willowy blonde who appeared in the vestibule. “Who is it, Private Cruikshank?”
    Stowe removed his hat. “Marshal Dan Stowe, and I'm here to ask you a few questions, ma'am.”
    She looked at him with the eyes of a woman who knew the secrets of managing men. “Right this way, please.”
    Stowe followed her into a small parlor filled with makeshift furniture. She was slim, with exquisitely carved high cheekbones, her golden hair falling to hershoulders, and nearly as tall as he. Marshal Stowe realized that Mr. Gibson hadn't exaggerated when he described her as a great beauty.
    â€œHave a seat, Marshal,” she said. “Can I get you something to drink?” Without waiting for an answer, she poured a glass of whiskey. Then she sat opposite him, crossed her long, lissome legs, and asked, “What can I do for you?”
    She spoke with a cultured Southern drawl, and he realized that she was a former belle. “As you've probably guessed, I'm here concerning Duane Braddock.”
    She smiled faintly. “He's probably in Mexico right now.”
    â€œMaybe, but numerous witnesses have told me that he killed Otis Puckett and Jay Krenshaw in self-defense, and your husband had no business arresting him in the first place. I don't want to hurt your feelings, ma'am, and I know this is a delicate matter, but it's been suggested that he arrested Duane out of jealousy over you. Would you care to comment on that?”
    â€œIt's perfectly true,” she replied without a moment's hesitation.