Rusty knew many Texans would welcome that result, but he feared they had not thought the implications through. Despite the army’s many shortcomings, it had provided the frontier at least a little protection. If it withdrew, Texas would have to fall back entirely upon its own resources: the local militia and rangers or minutemen. During the ten years it had been a republic Texas had never put together enough money to wad a shotgun. It had fared but little better as a state. He saw no reason to expect its positions to improve once it was no longer part of the United States.

He remarked, “Looks to me like we’re fixin’ to cook our own goose.”

The officer suggested, “You could vote against secession.”

“That wouldn’t change anything. I’d about as well try to dam up the Brazos River with a pitchfork.”

Rusty kept watching in fascination the Indians who pushed the recovered horses along. Most had changed to fresh mounts, having worn down their original ones in the pursuit. The stolen animals had been driven hard but had not carried the burden of men on their backs. The Tonkawas’ winter clothing was a mixture of long breechcloths, tanned leathers, and white-man castoffs. For protection against the cold, some covered their shoulders and torsos with buffalo robes, others with woolen blankets. Some wore earrings and necklaces of animal teeth or shells.

Harrison told him, “You’d best take a good look at them. The Tonkawas are dyin’ out.”

“These look pretty strong to me.”

“As Indians go, there ain’t many left. White man’s diseases . . . hostile tribes . . . Pretty soon they’ll all be gone.”

“I expect a lot of people would be glad to dance at the last one’s funeral.”

“Just you Texans who can’t tell Indians apart. If you ever got to know them, you’d see that there’s a world of difference between Tonkawas and Comanches.”

“The Comanches stole me once when I was little. I can’t remember much except bein’ scared.”

“It’s lucky your folks got you back.”

“They evidently killed my folks. Other people took and raised me.”

“You Texans think because some Indians are bad, they all are. I guess your experience made you hate all Indians.”

“I don’t hate anybody.” Rusty reconsidered. “Except maybe one man, and he’s white.”

“Indians have got ways of their own. That don’t make them good or bad, it just makes them different. These Tonkawas were ready to’ve killed the horse thieves if they’d caught them, and you’d’ve heard weepin’ and wailin’ about an Indian massacre. But do you think white men would’ve been different? If it was their horses they’d’ve been hell-bent to hang everybody they caught.”

“Texans aren’t all alike, either. Because some are bad, you think they all are.”

Harrison almost smiled. “There may be an exception here and there.”