It did not really matter whether he remembered the Texan language or not. If they did not kill him, he intended to escape. When his leg mended enough that he could walk without the splints, he would steal away and return to his true people. At times he entertained a fancy that Steals the Ponies would find him and take him away, though this hope did not stand up well when he thought soberly on it. It was probable that his brother had given him up for dead. His only hope for freedom lay in his own efforts. Time, then. He had been taught patience, necessary to a hunter and a warrior. He would bide his time and wait for strength.

Meanwhile he observed the four men who held him captive, trying to figure out who and what they were. The old one they called Preacher was, of course, some manner of shaman, for he spoke often to his gods. The tall, skinny one they called Tanner talked a lot, though Badger Boy had difficulty understanding enough words to find meaning in the one-sided conversation. The old man with the black face and hands puzzled him considerably. He could not remember ever seeing a skin so dark, not even among the Mexicans who sometimes came from the far west to trade among The People. The black man played for him on an instrument he called a banjo. The music was strange, yet he remembered hearing its like before.

Most worrisome of all was the one called Rusty. His red hair troubled Badger Boy. Steals the Ponies had told him about a warning from Buffalo Caller not long before his father’s death. The old warrior had told of a Texan with red hair, carrying medicine stronger than his own. Years earlier, Buffalo Caller had captured a small Texan boy who had hair the color of rusted iron. Some days afterward, disaster had fallen upon Buffalo Caller and all The People with him. Texans had recovered the boy. From then on, Buffalo Caller had regarded red hair as a dark omen, a hostile power to be avoided. Steals the Ponies had seen a red-haired Texan in the fight that gave Buffalo Caller his fatal wound.

Badger Boy wondered if this might be the same man. Of the Texans he had observed since his capture, this was the only one who fit the description.

Often when one or more of the Texans came to look at him, he feigned sleep. Not when they brought him food, however. Once the pain diminished, his appetite returned with a vengeance. He did not recognize much of what they brought him to eat, but he found it mostly flavorful.

When Tanner told him, “You’re startin’ to fatten up, boy,” Badger Boy understood. He was beginning to understand more words every day. He reasoned that they had been buried somewhere in his memory. Hearing them now was bringing them back into his consciousness. He began speaking some of the words, like dinner, supper, water, meat. After a few efforts he was able to say them easily.