Webb had never been this far inland, so the country was new to him. The word had been spread that all available Texas forces—organized ranging companies as well as volunteers—would gather at Plum Creek, which lay ahead. There, win or lose, they would stage the confrontation before the Indians could reach their hill-country sanctuaries.

Shortly after dawn, scouts had come into camp to report the Indians were just a few miles away. Webb and Shannon had attached themselves to a group of volunteers headed by Captain Matthew Caldwell, known as “Old Paint” for the white splotches in his beard. Caldwell gathered his company around him and made a rousing speech. They knew him as a battle-seasoned veteran of the revolution against Mexico, a man always cocked and primed for a fight.

“Boys,” he declared, “there are a thousand Indians. They have our women and children captives. But we are eighty-seven strong, and I believe we can whip hell out of them!”

An approving murmur arose from the men.

Caldwell shouted, “What shall we do, boys? Shall we fight?”

Loud cheers gave him the answer.

A biblical phrase came to Webb’s mind: the faith of the mustard seed. He thought it more likely that the Texans would be the ones who got hell whipped out of them, but the infectious enthusiasm among the settler congregation convinced him that to voice a contrary opinion would be to cry out in the wilderness, a voice lost in the wind.

Mike Shannon said, “Better cinch your saddle up tight, Preacher. We’re fixin’ to have ourselves a run, ’y God.”

But in which direction? Webb wondered. He took some comfort in the knowledge that Caldwell’s eighty-seven were only part of the force converging for the fight. It had been reported that Colonel Ed Burleson was on his way up from the Colorado with a large company including Chief Placido and several Tonkawa Indians, blood enemies of the Comanche. But even so, the invaders would still be greatly superior in number.

Though most of the men favored Caldwell, Old Paint acceded command to Felix Huston, a major general of the Texas army. Under Huston’s orders the Texans moved into concealment to await Burleson’s arrival. The Indians appeared first, a long, thin column stretching for several miles across the prairie, people and animals moving in and out of the dust like spectral figures, seen a moment, then disappearing.

Shannon said, “They have to know we’re somewhere about because they’ve been trailed the whole way. Talk about arrogant. . . they must figure they can swat us away like so many horseflies.”

Maybe they can, Webb thought. But he began to take hope. It occurred to him that the Comanches did not seem to know much about large-scale military tactics. They should realize their strung-out column was vulnerable to being flanked, cut, and diced into sections. They must regard themselves as invulnerable because of their number.

Pride goeth before a fall.

He tried to make a rough count of the horses and mules but found it impossible. There might have been two thousand, even three. A considerable number carried plunder the Comanches had acquired in Victoria and Linnville.