Andy frowned. The Comanchero was being bluntly honest. Martinez had never met Billy. The boy meant nothing to him except in terms of market value. At least Andy knew where the man stood. In event of crisis he was not likely to stand hitched.

Martinez kept a close watch on the horizon as if he expected Indians to appear at any time. None did. Before night he approached what Andy remembered had been a weak seep in the side of a usually dry creek bed. Martinez rode ahead to look it over. He returned, the slump of his shoulders telling the story before he came close enough to speak. “No water. Too long no rain.”

The water barrels would have to suffice.

Andy asked, “No Indians either?”

“No Indians.”

Andy put down disappoin I’ment. Reality told him he should not expect to overtake Billy’s captors so soon, but one could always hope for a stroke of good fortune.

After a meager supper of tortillas, beans, and a bit of buffalo meat, he told Martinez, “I’m goin’ off out yonder by myself awhile. Got to think.”

Martinez made a faint smile. “You expect some Indian spirit to whisper in your ear?”

“Maybe. It don’t hurt to be listenin’.”

“I will tell my priest about you. He will pray for your heathen soul.”

Preacher Webb probably would not approve either. Andy was not sure what he believed and what he didn’t. He had heard so many conflicting opinions about gods and spirits, those of the white man as well as of the Indians, that he was hopelessly confused. He knew only that he had observed the wise men of the tribe wandering off to meditate and seek truth wherever they could find it. Sometimes they claimed it had found them.

He did not have time for a proper vision quest. He was old enough. If he were still with The People he would probably have undergone one or more such searches by now. The proper way would be with the aid of a dependable shaman, who would purify him and give him instructions. Then, in some isolated place where he would not be distracted by small things, he would fast and pray and go through the specified procedures for as long as four days and nights. If he were fortunate, at some point a benevolent spirit would visit, counseling him, perhaps revealing his future. Such an experience was regarded as a rite of passage to manhood.

He could not expect all this in a single night, but he could lose nothing by laying himself open to whatever spirits might be roaming about in the darkness. He could only hope they would be of a kindly nature and not malevolent. It was well known that malevolent spirits were always on watch for the unwary. Even Preacher Webb recognized their evil presence and preached for vigilance against their snares.