Antelope’s implied threat began to play upon the mind of Buffalo Caller. To reassure himself that the boy was all right he put his mount into a long trot, passing the rear guard and going around the massive herd of stolen horses and mules. The women and children rode near the head of the column, where they were considered safest from attack by the trailing Texans. He sought out Whippoorwill, the younger and prettier of his two wives, the one he had chosen to accompany him on this long journey. She carried the boy in front of her on a high-stepping sorrel mare taken from the Mexican traders at Victoria.

“Is he all right?” he asked, though he could see no evidence to the contrary. The boy still wore his homespun clothes, now dirty and beginning to ravel from the stresses of traveling. He did not look Comanche, but the shirt and trousers would have to last until the band made its way back to the homeland. Then he could be put into something more suitable.

“He does not understand anything I tell him,” Whippoorwill said. “At times he talks, but they are not words I know.”

“He will learn soon enough to speak like a Comanche. Has Antelope said anything to you about him?”

“This morning, as we broke camp. He said the spirits came to him in a dream and told him we should kill the red-hair before he brings death to us.”

“Watch out for him. Do not let him get close to the boy.”

“What if he is right? What if the red-hair is bad medicine?”

“My spirits have told me no such thing. Antelope makes wind and thinks it is spirits speaking to him.”

Satisfied for the time being, he dismounted and let his horse graze the dry grass while he waited for the column to pass. Its movement was slow as a turtle’s, he thought. He remembered his doubts when the council first decided to allow women and children to accompany this grand punitive excursion. Ordinarily it would be considered too dangerous, but so many warriors had massed together that the expedition seemed secure enough to allow such luxury. It was argued that the outnumbered whites would fall like dry leaves in an autumn wind. Though resistance had proven strong enough to turn the raiders back from the heart of Victoria, Linnville had been crushed like a beetle beneath a warrior’s moccasin. The spoils had been extraordinary. Those who had chosen to remain behind in the homeland would soon be ashamed for their timidity.

The rear guard came along after a time, and Buffalo Caller grasped his horse’s mane, pulling himself up. His eyes met those of Antelope for a moment before Antelope looked away. What he saw there convinced him that once they reached home he would have to remove his family from Antelope’s reach.

A warrior known as Feared by His Enemies pulled up beside him. “More white men have joined their brothers back there.” He pointed his chin toward the horsemen, who trailed at a respectful distance.