They were a few miles short of Fort Belknap when a dozen horsemen suddenly appeared three hundred yards in front of them, fanned out as if to offer battle. One prematurely fired a shot, which took no effect that Rusty could see. A soldier who had been riding point ahead of the remuda spurred toward them, his right arm raised, so the riders could see that the Indians had a military escort. One of the newcomers, evidently their leader, waved his hat and signaled for those on the flanks to rejoin the main group. As they pulled together, he motioned for them to hold their position while he rode forward. He swung out to one side and slowed to let the driven horses pass. He gave the Indians a critical study before proceeding to meet the lieutenant. He wore no uniform but carried himself in a military manner. He brought his hand up in a sharp salute, touching the brim of a well-worn felt hat. His back was arrow-straight, his black-and-gray moustache smartly trimmed and turned up at the ends.

In a stiffly formal manner he said, “We were sent a report of Indians passing through the country. It was our fear that they were Comanche or Kiowa.”

The words were clipped. Rusty detected a trace of accent similar to that of Germans he knew on the Colorado.

The lieutenant’s tone was condescending. “As even a Texan can see, they are Tonkawas.”

“Often I have ridden with the Tonkawas. But even they are forbidden now south of the Red River. From where obtained they so many horses?”

The lieutenant plainly was not used to being questioned by civilians who did not show proper deference to their betters. “These horses belong to them. They were stolen off the reservation. And who are you to be asking questions of a military officer?”

“I am August Burmeister, a captain of the state rangers.”

The lieutenant was not impressed. “If you Texans were as diligent in going after white thieves as red ones, these Indians might not have found it necessary to come south of the river. But as you can see, they are under federal military escort.”

“Ah yes, the federals.” Burmeister was not impressed either. He pointed his chin northward. “You are on your way to Belknap, I assume?”

“No. Do you think I would give the trigger-happy citizens of that ill-begotten community an excuse for killing more peaceful Indians? However, we have a man here to turn over to the proper persons.” He jerked a thumb in Rusty’s direction.

Burmeister tugged at one end of his moustache while giving Rusty an intense scrutiny. “And what is it this man has done?”