Now a darker worry burdened him. He had left his brother where he had thought he would be safest. It appeared his judgment had been terribly wrong. He felt a fear for Badger Boy that he had never felt for himself.

“Leave the horses,” he shouted, and turned in the direction from which he had heard the shouts. Most of the other warriors objected. It seemed cowardly to abandon the few they had obtained. “Had you rather lose them all?” he responded with anger.

Several men stubbornly held to the stolen horses. Steals the Ponies led the rest toward the sound of the shots. He had left Badger Boy in the care of Tonkawa Killer, as fierce a fighter as he knew. Tonkawa Killer hated the boy, but surely he would live up to the responsibility Steals the Ponies had placed upon him.

Driving the horses, the warriors stayed in or near timber as much as they could. Steals the Ponies could only guess how much opposition the Texans had mounted against them. From the cover of trees he watched a considerable number of Texans moving westward, driving a dozen horses before them. That represented about half the ones the raiding party had left under guard. He assumed that Tonkawa Killer, Badger Boy, and the rest had gotten away with the others. He felt a little better, though much anxiety lingered.

A wagon appeared to carry someone covered by a blanket. A Texan, he thought, perhaps wounded or, more to be preferred, dead, as all Texans should be.

He reasoned that the horse guard must be somewhere to the north, more or less where he had left them. When the Texans had passed out of sight he signaled the men behind him to move on. He pushed his horse into an easy lope, well out in front of the others.

He hoped to find that Badger Boy had not only survived unscathed but had acquitted himself in a manner befitting a warrior. If so, the other men should no longer chastise him for his disobedience.

He neared a tree-lined creek. A horseman rode out from the timber at some distance upstream and signaled. Much as Steals the Ponies looked forward to seeing that his brother was all right, he dreaded facing up to the fact that they had only six horses to show for their foray, plus whatever number the guard had managed to keep. This would reflect badly on his leadership and perhaps make it more difficult for him to recruit warriors for future raids.

Riding down to where the horse guard waited in the bed of the creek, he knew by their hang-dog look that they were ashamed for having failed him. But he felt that he had failed himself. To redeem his standing he would have to do something spectacular the next time.

He did not see Badger Boy. His throat tightened.

“Where is my brother?”

Nobody answered. The men who had stood guard on the horses looked away from him, most staring at the ground.