Black Wing knew. He had ridden along on a couple of the excursions and had acquitted himself with honor. He now owned many horses. But he cautioned, “Many more Texans live there now.”

“And many more horses.” Buffalo Caller hoped the appeal to greed would be persuasive if an appeal to patriotism was not. “The Texans to the south and east are not as ready as those to the north. They no longer expect us.”

“But the searchers are out all the time. They will find our trail.”

“Not if first we go far west, where they do not ride. Then we go far south before we turn and move into the Talking Water settlements.”

“Are there not white men to the west?”

“Only a few. They are fugitives. Even if they see us, they cannot send warning. They hide from the white man’s law.”

Black Wing’s frown told Buffalo Caller he was resistant to the whole notion. Black Wing was already rich enough in horses. And many of The People did not share Buffalo Caller’s strong compulsion to drive the white man away. After all, most Comanches remained at large. Though they had lost homelands to the south, they still ranged in relative freedom across the high plains. Most had not allowed themselves to be gathered like cattle and confined to the reservation north of the Clay-Colored River, the way less resistant tribes had done, or the white men’s pet dogs, the despised Tonkawas. The Comanches could still hunt buffalo unimpeded so long as they did not venture too far eastward into areas infested by the white men.

Buffalo Caller felt a sour letdown. Though the argument would go on and on, he already sensed that he would lose it. At least there was an alternative. Above all, a male Comanche was a free man, allowed to act on his own volition if the way of the others did not please him. If the council would not agree upon a huge raid, he could organize a smaller one of his own. He had always found young men ready to follow him. Seldom had they come home empty-handed. Sadly, it was true that the last time he had led warriors into the land of the Texans, he had had the misfortune of running unexpectedly into a ranging patrol. The warriors had been obliged to give up some of the horses they had taken and flee back across the river to sanctuary.

But that had not been his fault. One of the reckless young men had chased an owl from its perch and made it angry. Everyone knew that Mope the owl harbored dark spirits. The same ill luck could have happened to anyone burdened with unseasoned youngsters who did not respect the proprieties.

If he was obliged to make up his own raid, he would be careful in choosing those who went with him. He had felt compelled the last time to take some poorly seasoned men who wanted the glory without regard to the requirements.