He reached the little patch of timber ahead of the lone horseman. He waved his hat to get the man’s attention. Two of them, given cover of the small wood, ought to be able to discourage three soldiers caught without cover.

The soldiers saw him, too. One of them pulled his mount to a quick stop, dropped to the ground and fired at the fleeing Texan. The horse stumbled and went rolling. James feared for a moment that the man was down to stay, but the Texan scrambled to his feet and came running, rifle in his hand. James braced his own rifle against the trunk of a tree and fired at the nearest of the three pursuing horsemen. The man jerked, then fell out of the saddle and sprawled in the old brown grass. The other two reined up quickly, circling back to see about their comrade. During those brief moments, the fugitive reached James in the edge of the timber.

He wore a month’s ragged growth of whiskers, and his clothes were muddy from the fall, but he looked great to James. This was the first person he had seen in weeks other than Mexican soldiers. The man gasped for breath but dropped to his knee and brought up his rifle while James quickly reloaded his own. The downed soldier’s riderless horse ran in a frightened circle, then discovered James’s sorrel tied at the edge of the wood and came toward it at a fast trot.

The man said, “Friend, you look prettier to me than a whole roomful of blushin’ young ladies. My horse was givin’ out on me, and I was callin’ to the Lord somethin’ fierce. I reckon He must’ve heard me holler.”

James nodded toward the soldier’s black horse, which had come up to the tied sorrel, nickering. “Looks like He sent you a fresh mount, too. You must stand in with Him pretty good.”

“I doubt that, but I made Him a lot of promises that’ll be damned hard to keep.” He shoved out his hand. “Name’s Pete Johnson. I was out scoutin’ for Mexicans.”

“James Lewis. Looks like you found them all right.”

“Lewis.” Johnson stared at him. “That beard covers your face, but your eyes remind me of a Lewis I knew one time over by Nacogdoches. Andrew, his name was.”

“My brother.”

“Him and me and some others, we had us a scrap with a bunch that called themselves the Fredonians. You look like you was ripped out of the same piece of cloth. I’m mighty glad it was you I ran into.” Johnson eased over to catch the Mexican horse and tie him securely. “How come you to be out thisaway?”

James told him, leaving out a lot of unnecessary details. He said, “You’re the first man I’ve talked to since I left that patrol down close to the Rio Grande. I’ve got no idea what’s been happenin’.”

Johnson blinked. “You don’t know about the Alamo or Goliad?”

James could read disaster in Johnson’s eyes. “No.”