All the while he talked, Andy’s gaze roamed over the horses. He did not see Billy’s pony. Though disappointed, he was not without hope. The pony might be tied in camp. Most warriors kept one or more horses tied near the tepee in case of need. They did not walk when they could ride.

He pulled away to join Martinez and the carts. The encampment was not large, a dozen tepees lined along a small creek, their flap openings facing east so the morning sunrise would bring its light inside. Andy judged that most of the men had been away on a raid and had rejoined families at this prearranged meeting place within the last day or two. He smelled cooking meat and knew it was not buffalo. He had seen a couple of mule carcasses at the edge of camp, stripped of any meat worth eating as well as the hides. Mules were for trading or eating, not for riding.

A small group of Indians ventured out to watch the carts pass. Andy saw no friendliness in their faces.

Martinez moved upstream a little ways from the Comanches. “We camp here,” he said. “Let them come to us. We do not wish to seem in a hurry to trade. They will expect too much.”

“They didn’t look all that glad to see us.”

“There is a bad mood in this camp. I can feel it.”

Andy guessed that something had gone wrong for the Indians. Perhaps there had been an argument over dividing the spoils, or worse, the raiders had lost a man or twro in skirmishes along the way.

Riding past the tepees, Andy had given each a moment’s careful scrutiny. “I did not see Billy anywhere. If he is here he must be tied up inside one of the tepees.” He wished he could search every one of them.

Martinez seemed to sense his thoughts. “Patience. I said from the first, he may not be here.”

“But if he isn’t, he has been. I can sense it.”

Martinez snorted. “Sense it? You think you can smell him, like a dog?”

“I’ve got a feelin’, that’s all.”

“Someday you will have a feeling that you are about to be killed, and you will be right. Patience. With patience, all things can be known.” Martinez looked back toward the Indian camp. His eyes revealed misgivings.

One of the cart men spoke to him in Spanish. Andy did not understand the words, but he knew the man was concerned about something. Martinez told Andy, “He says we should not stop here at all. But we will look the coward if we go on. You must never let the Comanche think you are coward.”

They finished making camp. Martinez looked apprehensively toward the tepees. “Maybe they do not come to trade at all. That might be best.”