Forrest said, “You haven’t spent your whole life trailing Comanches. What did you do before?”

“Seems like a long time ago, but I growed up on a farm. Farmin’ is what I was best at, ‘I’ll other things got in the way.”

“They’ve gotten in the way for all of us. We’re alike in that. But we don’t have the same loyalties, do we?”

Rusty knew, but he asked anyway. “What do you mean?”

“I suspect you’ve stayed in the frontier service to keep from going into the Army of the Confederation.”

“I was just a boy, but I remember how hard Texas fought to get into the Union. I’ve never understood why it got so hell-bent to leave it.”

“Slavery was part of it.”

“I’ve got no slaves. Neighbor named Isaac York has one he calls Shanty. He’s the only one I know.”

“Some of the war has to do with rights that Washington tried to take away from us. Those people back East live a different life than we do out here. What gives them the right to tell us what we can and can’t do?”

Rusty shrugged. “Richmond has done the same thing. I ought to have the right to stay on the farm and mind my own business, but the Confederate government won’t let me. It wants me to go fight in a war that I didn’t start and didn’t want.”

“There are times when duty overrules our individual rights.”

“If we’re not fightin’ for our rights, then what are we fightin’ for?”

“I can’t answer that. I’m only a sergeant. What’s left of one, anyway.”

“You lost that leg fightin’ Yankees?”

“A minié ball. Came close to dying of blood poisoning.”

As Rusty had expected, darkness descended without their seeing any trace of their quarry. They made camp without fresh meat. The captain had forbidden any shooting that might alert the Indians.

In the early-morning sun soon after breaking camp, Rusty saw the Indians three hundred yards ahead, strung out in single and double file. He quickly raised his hand, signaling those behind him to halt. He did not look back, but he heard the horses as Whitfield and Forrest spurred up to join him. Lieutenant Billings seemed to have rethought his ambition to shoot the first Indian. He stayed behind.

Rusty pointed. “They’ve seen us. They’re pullin’ into a line.”

Whitfield’s hand jerked up and down as he counted. “Eighteen. They outnumber us damned near two to one.” He looked at Forrest. “Any suggestions?”

“My old commander always said, ‘When in doubt, charge.’”

Rusty could not see a good defensive position for either side. Rangers and Indians were all in the open.

Whitfield asked Forrest, “Did your commander always win?”

“He did ‘I’ll they killed him.”

Whitfield considered. “Indians can count, same as we can. Looks to me like our best chance is to hand them a surprise.”

Rusty said, “They’ve already seen us. How can we surprise them?”

“By doin’ what they don’t expect.” Whitfield turned to Forrest. “You ready to take your old commander’s advice?”