James declared, “You don’t look like one of these soldiers.”

The young man pushed his horse forward, stopping abreast of the soldier in charge. “You could say that Sergeant Díaz has made me his guest, if you wanted to put the best face on it.”

The sergeant said firmly, “He is under arrest. You are all of you under arrest.” At a command, one of the soldiers swung down from his horse and reached out for Frank’s rifle. Frank reluctantly gave it up. As the soldier reached for James’s rifle, James stepped back, bringing the weapon up into both hands. Several more soldiers swiftly drew swords. James saw the threat in their eyes and felt his heartbeat quicken, but he did not give up the rifle.

The American stepped down lazily from his dun horse.

He still had that crooked smile, but the humor had faded from it. “I never was swift with figures, but I could always count up to twelve, and that’s how many soldiers there is, friend. If I was you, I’d give up before they hurt you.”

“We come a long ways to get here. My brother’s letter said he had everything fixed up for us. We got a right.”

“You’re in Mexico, friend, and in Mexico it’s the man with the rifles who tells you what rights you’ve got. If you won’t give that gun to one of them, then give it to me, but be quick. Sergeant Díaz there, he’s got no patience with Americans.”

James backed up another step. “Nobody’s takin’ my—”

He saw the fist coming, but he was too late to dodge it. It struck him squarely on the chin, snapping his head back. He felt the rifle jerked from him as he staggered, then went down on his hands and knees. Streaks of lightning flashed in his eyes. Pain lanced from his chin up through his head and back down his neck. He would have sunk flat onto his stomach had cousin Frank’s strong hands not grabbed and held him.

He heard the American say, “Here’s the rifle, sergeant. The boy’s just headstrong and don’t understand the situation.”

“He is arrogant, like all you americanos. But he is not in your country now. He is in mine.”

James could hear Frank’s voice. “What do you figure on doin’ with us, sergeant? My wife here, she’s in a delicate condition, as you can see.”

“I will escort you back to the Sabine River and see that you cross it.”

“That’s a whole day’s trip. My wife is awful tired.”

The sergeant gave Hope a moment’s sympathetic study. “We will camp here tonight. We will take you tomorrow.” He said something in Spanish, and his men dismounted. He asked Frank, “There are other guns?”

Frank was not smiling. “One more in each wagon.”

James protested, but he could not tell that anyone heard him; at least no one paid attention to him. He saw Annie hand over the rifle she carried beneath her wagon seat. Frank fetched his second one, holding it with his hand away from the trigger guard to demonstrate that he had no intention of using it. It was probably not loaded, anyway.