Read Online The Last Ride of German Freddie by Walter Jon Williams - Free Book Online

a dash for it.”
    “Agreed. I will have to follow you—otherwise I can't see well enough to know where I'm going.”
    “I'll lead you into the hornet's nest, don't you worry.”
    Freddie sought out Josie, lying in the shade of some rocks, and took her hand. The sun had burned her cheeks; her lips were starting to crack with thirst. “We will fight in the morning,” he said. “I want you to stay here.”
    She shook her head, mouthed the word “No.”
    “You are the one of us they will not harm,” Freddie said. “The rest of us will charge out of the circle, and you can join us later.”
    The words drove her into fury. She was in a state of high excitement, and wanted to put her pistol practice to use.
    “It is not as you think,” Freddie said. “This will not be a great battle, it will be something small and squalid. And—” He took her hands. She flailed to throw off his touch, but he held her. “Josie!” he cried. “I need someone to publish my work, if I should not survive. No one else will care. It must be you.”
    She was of the People of the Book; Freddie calculated she could not refuse. At his words her look softened. “All right, then,” she said. He kissed her, but she turned her sunburned lips away. She would not speak for a while, and so Freddie wrote for an hour in his journal with a stub of pencil.
    They spent a rough night together, lying cold under blankets, shivering together while Cowboys snored around them. As the eastern sky began to lighten all rose, the horses were saddled and led out. The last of the water was shared, and then the riders mounted.
    Ringo seemed in good cheer. Freddie half-expected him to give the Crispin's Day Speech from  Henry V,  but Ringo contented himself with nodding, clicking to his horse, and leading the beast between the tall rocks, down the hill toward the dying fires of the Earps' camp. Freddie pulled his bandanna over his nose, less to conceal his identity than to avoid eating Ringo's dust, then followed Ringo's horse down into the gloom.
    The horsemen cleared the rocks, then broke into a canter. They covered half the distance to the Earp outfit's camp before the first shot rang out; then Ringo gave a whoop and the Cowboys answered, the high-pitched yells ringing over the dusty ground.
    Freddie was too busy staying atop his horse to add to the clamor. His teeth rattled with every hoofbeat. He wanted a calm place to stand.
    Other, better horsemen, half-seen in the pre-dawn light, passed him as he rode. A flurry of shots crackled out. Freddie clutched Zarathustra tighter. Startled men on foot dodged out of his way.
    Abruptly the horse stumbled—Freddie tried to check it but somehow made things worse—and then there was a staggering blow to his shoulder as he was flung to the ground. He rolled, and in great surprise at his own agility rose with his pistol still in his hand. A figure loomed up—with dust coating his spectacles Freddie could not make it out—but he shot it anyway, twice, and it groaned and fell.
    The yells of the Cowboys were receding southward amid a great boil of dust. Freddie ran after. Bullets made whirring noises about his head.
    Then out of the dust came a horse. Freddie half-raised his pistol, but recognized Ringo before he pulled trigger. “Take my hand, Freddie,” Ringo said with a great grin, “and we're free.” But then one of the whizzing bullets came to a stop with a horrible smack, and Ringo toppled from the horse. Freddie stared in sudden shock at his friend's brains laid out at his feet—Ringo was beyond all noble gestures now, that was clear, there was nothing to be done for him—Freddie reached for the saddle horn. The beast was frightened and began to run before Freddie could mount; Freddie ran alongside, trying to get a foot in the stirrup, and then the horse put on a burst of terrified speed and left Freddie behind.
    Rage and frustration boomed in his heart. He swiped at his spectacles to get a better view, then