First sight of the horses aroused a strange sense of foreboding, a queasy feeling of finding himself in the wrong place. “Did you ever see so many in one bunch, Mike?”

Shannon hauled up on the leather reins. Ordinarily given to shrugging off life’s everyday aggravations with an easy “Aw, what the hell?” he appeared suddenly alarmed. “Somethin’ queer-lookin’ about this. They ain’t no traders, and they ain’t no movers. What they are is Indians, ’y God!”

Webb could not believe this at first. The only Indians he had seen this near the coast had been small gatherings of Tonkawas, the poorest, raggedest people he had ever encountered, come to barter or beg. Folks said they could be ferocious as hungry wolves against their enemies the Comanches, and that they even had cannibalistic tendencies. To him they had appeared harmless except for a little sticky-fingered thievery.

These were not Tonkawas.

Shannon said, “I hope you have favor in the eyes of your Maker. He’d better not let them see us before we get into that timber yonder.”

Webb thought it prudent to be running while he consulted the Lord. He applied his spurs and drew his rifle from its long scabbard beneath his leg.

It seemed impossible that they were not discovered, but the passing Indians gave no sign they had noticed.

Shannon said, “They think we’re part of their bunch.”

“Our clothes and hats ought to tell them different.”

Shannon turned for another squint-eyed look. “A lot of them are wearin’ hats, too. The store-bought kind, and I’d bet you a U.S. dollar they didn’t buy them.”

A few wore coats as well, despite the summer heat. A couple had them on backward, buttons in the rear. Many horses and mules were laden with blankets and bolts of cloth.

Trophies of war, proudly displayed.

Shannon tried to make a rough count but gave it up. “Looks to me like there’s a couple thousand horses and mules, and maybe a thousand Indians. Odd thing is, they’ve got squaws and children with them.”

“But who are they? Where’d they come from?”

“Comanches, and I’d guess they’re fresh from lootin’ the hell out of some place. Headin’ back to their own country now, most likely.”

“God pity any poor souls they happen upon along their way.”

Shannon frowned, mulling on that thought. “There’s some farms out yonder, the direction they’re travelin’. They’ll gobble up them folks like wolves gobble a rabbit.”

“We could circle around ahead of them and give warnin’. How’s your faith?”

“Strong enough, long as I’m ridin’ with a preacher. The Lord ain’t goin’ to let nothin’ happen to you.”

The column inched along, the animals traveling in a walk. Webb could see women and children. Were it not for the evidence of loot being carried away, he might take this for a tribe peacefully moving from one hunting ground to another. He saw no outriders, though it stood to reason there must be some somewhere. “They don’t seem to be in a hurry or worried about anybody jumpin’ them.”