Read Online Sidewinder by J. T. Edson - Free Book Online

higher than a pack mule, on the Comanche scale of usefulness, the tuivitsi did not argue. People who crossed the Death Bringer rarely lived long enough to boast of doing it.
    In her youth, the woman known as the Death Bringer had been a mighty pretty Mexican girl. Taller and more slender than the Comanche women, her grace and light feet gave her the name of Fire Dancer among the Pehnane . Only occasionally did the Comanche mistreat children prisoners, preferring to keep them alive and healthy as slaves. Eventually the slaves could become accepted as members of the band and enjoyed all the rights of a Comanche by birth.
    Certainly Fire Dancer showed no signs of her slave beginnings. Still slender although her hair had turned grey, she wore a buff coloured buckskin dress with luxuriously fringed sleeves and colourful bead designs and spirit patterns. Beaded moccasins graced her feet, but the warm weather did away with the need for the highly ornamented leggings she wore in the winter. Her face still retained traces of its beauty, but bore also a hint of the savage nature underneath.
    Although in camp on an ordinary day Sidewinder wore his ornamented elk-skin shirt which extended to below the level of his leggings’ tops and covered his traditional breechclout. He had rattlesnake skin instead of the usual polecat or other fur fringe on his moccasins. Typical Comanche, he was stocky, medium size and his war bonnet framed a face that bore the stamp of real cruelty on it. Around his waist hung a gunbelt with a Green River knife sheathed at the left and a Freeman Army revolver rode holstered at the right. If he objected to his mother giving orders, he hid his feelings admirably.
    While not a man sensitive to atmosphere, Salmon never felt entirely easy when in the presence of Sidewinder and the Death Bringer. Yet he knew that his usefulness to them gave him immunity as long as it lasted. When it ended, he would go the way of any other Anny scout should he fail to learn the fact in time.
    A tall man, Indian-dark with surly features framed by lank black hair, he dressed in a fringed buckskin shirt, cavalry campaign hat and trousers, and knee-long moccasins. He did not fail to notice the avaricious way in which Sidewinder eyed the Army Colt holstered cavalry-fashion on his belt and wondered how long it would be before the chief decided to take possession of it.
    ‘Well?’ demanded Fire Dancer.
    ‘It’s been a long, hard ride,’ Salmon hinted.
    ‘I’ll have food brought to you,’ she promised. ‘What is the news from the Fort?’
    ‘Have any of the ones come for the council?’ Sidewinder asked.
    ‘Goodnight is there,’ Salmon told him uneasily. ‘Also Houston’s son.’
    ‘I never thought we would have success on all of them,’ commented Fire Dancer philosophically.
    ‘ Diablo Viejo could not come,’ Salmon went on and continued before he raised false hopes, ‘but he sent the one called Magic Hands to speak for him, Also the son of “Big” Counter came.’
    An almost animal-sounding snarl left Sidewinder’s lips and his mother hissed, ‘These stupid Waw’ai dogs. If only they were Kweharehnuh or Pehnane —’
    ‘The God-man died and so did Colonel Huckfield.’ Salmon put in, feeling that he had better give his host and hostess some good news.
    Both Fire Dancer and her son were aware that one name, the one which interested them both, had not been mentioned.
    ‘And what of Cuchilo ?’ snarled the chief, his hand going in an involuntary move to touch his injured legs
    Sucking in a deep breath, Salmon avoided his questioner’s eyes and paused as long as he dared before giving an answer he knew would be even more unpopular than the previous news.
    ‘ Cuchio lives.’
    ‘So he still lives!’ Fire Dancer ejaculated in a voice throbbing with hate. ‘And he the one I wanted most to die!’
    An even greater uneasiness crept over Salmon as he listened to the woman and wondered at her response to the news that