Antelope pulled up on his rawhide reins. “The wind brings the smell of smoke.” He raised his head, sniffing, testing.

Antelope was notoriously subject to quick judgments and quick action without considering where they might lead. Buffalo Caller smelled only dust, for the ground was so dry it had cracked open in places. The soil would all be up and moving on the wind were it not bound by a heavy stand of brittle grass, the result of last spring’s rains. He drew the skin taut at the edge of his right eye, trying to sharpen his vision. He decided Antelope was right, this time. “I think I see a house. It is beyond the timber, there.”

His companion thumped the heels of his moccasins against his mount’s ribs, putting him into a trot. “If they have horses, we shall take them.”

Buffalo Caller feared that Antelope’s zeal would make him forget their real mission. “Taking horses is not what you and I have been sent to do.”

The principal concern so far had been to avoid premature detection as the army of warriors moved along. The wolves were to overtake and kill any whites who might observe their passage before the trap was sprung. That precaution seemed less important now because scouts had reported that the town of Victoria lay only a short distance ahead. The Americans would soon know of the column’s coming. One Mexican guide had lived in Victoria until the Texans drove him out, and he itched for retribution. Victoria had been chosen as the first target.

Buffalo Caller recognized Antelope’s determination. He relented, knowing Antelope would do whatever he wanted, regardless of advice to the contrary. “If we find horses, there is no reason they should not be ours.” He set his dun horse into a trot that matched Antelope’s pace.

Antelope grunted. “If we find any teibos, we will take their scalps as well as their horses.” His taste for vengeance was strong. A brother’s blood had soaked into the floor of the San Antonio council house.

“So long as we do not leave our own.”

Emerging from a small patch of timber, they saw a man afoot in a cornfield, wielding a curved knife to cut heads from the stalks, tossing them into the bed of a wagon drawn by two horses. His back turned, he did not see the warriors’ approach.

Antelope said, “You take the horses. I will take the man.”

Not until he heard the hooves did the farmer turn. He wasted a long moment frozen in startled disbelief as the two Comanches rushed down upon him; then he ran for the rail fence. Antelope’s arrow struck him in the middle of his back. He fell forward onto his face. The warrior leaped from his horse, vaulted over the low fence, and knelt beside the dying man, slicing a patch of scalp with his knife. Buffalo Caller saw no need for undue haste. He climbed over the fence and cut the two horses loose from the wagon. They were docile. What human beings did to one another concerned them little.