“Often they divide. We follow one group, we may find that the boy is with another. The Comanche are not gente de razon, men of reason. They are not like us, who find a place for ourselves and build our house and plant our fields. They are like the wild animals of the prairie, they travel where it is their pleasure, and when.”

Andy realized Martinez was being realistic, trying to build his resistance against disappoin I’ment. But he preferred to remain positive.

“Old Preacher Webb often said that when you’ve got faith enough, your faith will usually be rewarded. So I’ve got faith, and I’m hangin’ on to it whether I really believe it or not.”

Martinez shook his head. “I wish I could take you to my priest. There is much he could teach you.”

By the middle of the afternoon Andy began seeing horse tracks. A substantial number had been made by iron shoes. These, he reasoned, were from horses recently taken. The tracks left by Billy’s pony would probably be smaller than the average. He found several sets of pony tracks but had no way of knowing which, if any, were Billy’s.

Martinez warned, “If we do find the boy, show no interest. Make as if you do not know him.”

“He’ll know me. He’ll figure I’ve come to rescue him.”

“And you have. But do not let the Comanches know it.”

Martinez had been over this ground before. Obviously he did not appraise Andy’s intelligence too highly. Andy resented that, but he was in no position to do much about it. He was here at Martinez’s sufferance.

He toyed briefly with the notion that he might do better on his own. He recognized it as an idle thought, even a dangerous one. But everything about this mission was dangerous. He had climbed out to the far edge of a bluff that could break off at any time.

Martinez said, “It is not far now. Soon there is water and a good place for camp.”

The cart men were not the first to reach it. They came across a horse herd tended by two young warriors. Andy rode close, trying to appear curious rather than seriously interested. One of the warriors, armed only with a bow and arrows so far as Andy could see, rode over to challenge him. Andy spoke a greeting in Comanche. Still suspicious, the young man answered in kind. Andy complimented him on having so many fine horses. The warrior answered with a degree of pride that most had been obtained by honest theft from the Texans.

“Why are you with those Mexicans?” he asked.

“We visit many camps, trading.”

“Do you think he would trade for some of these horses, and the mules?”

“On the right terms. Trading is his work.”

“He has with him whiskey?”

“You must ask him about that.”