“He never did belong to you. He belongs to his mother and father.”

“I won him in battle.”

“It was no battle. You killed a helpless old man and took the boy. They had no chance.”

“No matter. He was mine. You stole him from me. You owe me something.”

“A fight?” Andy raised the muzzle of the rifle an inch. “I could kill you before you could move.”

“My warriors would kill you before you drew another breath.”

“And there are enough white men at this place to kill them all. Who would be the winner? Not your warriors. Not you or me.”

Bears tried to show defiance, but his eyes reflected frustration. “You have a good fighting spirit. I would take you in place of the boy.”

“I would never be accepted. I have killed one of The People. I am told that the one who died was a brother to your wives. They would gladly hack me to pieces.”

Bears’s mouth twisted as he contemplated the impasse. “It is a matter of honor. I must satisfy my honor.”

“Perhaps you would like to have my scalp.”

That surprised and puzzled the Comanche.

Andy said, “Here, I will give it to you.” Laying down his rifle, he drew his knife. He reached up for one of his braids, cut it off and tossed it. Bears almost dropped his lance in grabbing for it. Andy cut off the other and threw it. Bears missed it but picked it up from the ground with the point of his lance.

Andy retrieved his rifle. “You can have a scalp dance over those.”

For a moment Bears seemed perplexed. Then he raised the braids high over his head and gave a loud, victorious whoop. The warriors behind him took up the cry. Bears rode slowly forward, lowering the lance.

The rifle felt slick in Andy’s sweaty hands. He pointed its muzzle at Bears, his finger on the trigger. One twitch and the Comanche would be dead. The battle would be on.

Bears touched a flat side of the lance point against Andy’s arm. Then he wheeled his horse around and set it into a long trot back toward the waiting warriors. As he passed them, shouting and holding the braids high, they turned and followed him away.

Andy had held his breath. Lungs burning, he gasped for air and allowed himself to wipe a sleeve across his forehead. The cuff came down over his hand.

Rusty hurried out to his side. “You all right?”

“I’m not bleedin’, if that’s what you mean.”

“I thought he meant to kill you.”

“He knew I’d take him with me. He didn’t want me that bad. So he accepted a piece of my scalp and counted coup. That was enough to patch up his pride.”

“He’s liable to keep tryin’ to get you.”

“I doubt it. Him and his wives will make medicine with those braids. They’ll try to cast spells and send dark spirits after me. But I think that’ll be all of it.”