Read Online Cry of Eagles by William W. Johnstone - Free Book Online Page A

but do you mind if we head on up the trail for a ways first? I don’t particularly relish the view here while I’m eating.”
    * * *
    Falcon made a fire of very dry wood, putting it next to a large boulder under a slight overhang so the smoke would be dispersed by the time it rose into view above them. While he brewed coffee in a pot and fried some fatback and beans, Hawk gave him his first lessons in finding the hidden springs and underground water in the high desert regions of the Dragoons.
    â€œFirst, you look for any kind of bird activity, ‘cause they knows where the water is. If’n you see some doves flying toward a particular spot, ’specially at dusk when they come in to drink after feeding all day on grain, you can be fairly sure they’s water somewhere’s nearby.”
    Falcon used a fork to turn the bacon in the skillet, paying close attention to the pearls of knowledge Hawk was sharing with him. He knew it might well mean the difference between life or death in the coming days.
    â€œNow, to find the underground water, you look fer a place that has some shade to it, like near some rocks or in the bottom of an arroyo or dry wash. If’n you see some green to the weeds there, or a small tree or brush, chances are there’s water not too far ’neath the surface.”
    â€œI’ve heard, though to tell the truth I’ve never had to try it, that some of the cactuses have a lot of liquid in them that’s drinkable.”
    Hawk nodded as he plucked a still sizzling chunk of meat from the skillet and bounced it back and forth between his hands until it cooled enough to pop it into his mouth. He spoke around the mouthful of food as he chewed. “That’s correct, partner. The one you want to try is the barrel cactus. They’s short and squatty and round on top. Best way to get the water out of ’em is to cut ’em off at the base and hold ’em up over your head and let it run right on down your gullet. Got to be careful, though. Them thorns is murder on your hands.”
    Finally the meal was ready, and Falcon piled heaping helpings of beans and fried bacon onto plates while Hawk poured them both coffee into tin mugs.
    They sat on the ground, leaning back against their saddles, and enjoyed the first hot meal they’d had in several days. Neither talked until their plates were picked clean.
    Hawk scrubbed his plate with a handful of sand and wiped it dry with a dirty bandanna. He leaned back and took out a cloth sack of tobacco and built himself a cigarette, then offered his fixin’s to Falcon.
    As they smoked, Falcon asked, “What do you plan to do after we finish with the Indians, Hawk?”
    Hawk shrugged, as if he hadn’t given it much thought. “I dunno. Go back to minin’, I guess.” He looked up from his cigarette to stare at Falcon. “To tell you the honest truth, I really don’t ’spect to come out of this fracas without attracting some lead.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œI just don’t think it’s in the cards for us to go up against this many redskins an’ come out of it with our skins intact.”
    â€œWhy do you say that?”
    â€œInjuns ain’t like white men. They don’t think like us, an’ they sure as hell don’t act like us.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œWell, if’n a white man is up against long odds, ’specially if his fight is with someone armed a lot better’n he is, he’ll most likely run away and live to fight another day.”
    As he smoked, the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, Hawk absentmindedly picked up a stick from the ground and began to whittle on it while he talked. “A redskin, on the other hand, thinks it’s a mark of bravery to go up against a superior force. Hell, I’ve seen a lone brave armed only with a tomahawk charge a squadron of men with repeating rifles, an’ never flinch