[Texas Rangers 03] - The Way of the Coyote (25 page)

He saw that it had run down. Evidently its new owner did not know to wind it. He would not have understood the white man's concept of time anyway. Andy started to wind it but changed his mind. He asked, "What will you do with it?"

"I may give it to my wife's father. He is old and becoming foolish. He likes things that shine."

"Would you trade it to me?"

The man's eyes brightened. Comanches enjoyed the challenge of trading. "What do you have to offer?"

Andy knew he did not have much. "A white-man hat. It will keep the sun from your head in summer and snow from your hair in winter."

"Not enough."

"A white-man shirt. It will help protect you when the cold winds blow."

The Indian shook his head. "Father-in-law would not like those. They do not shine."

Andy considered long before offering, "The saddle, then. The white man's saddle is comfortable. It will not rub sores on your legs." He would regret giving it up, but he could ride bareback. He had done it for years with The People.

Nothing about the saddle was fancy. It was plain, its seat slick from long use. Someone had already ridden it for years before Rusty had acquired it for Andy. The Comanche rubbed his hands over it, his eyes shining with delight. He said, "I wanted the old man's saddle, but Fights with Bears would not give it up. We trade."

Andy wondered if the watch would still run, but he did not wind it. Its ticking might give his host second thoughts. He put it around his neck.

He said, "You mentioned a boy." He trembled a little, fearing the answer. "What became of him?"

"Fights with Bears took him north." The Comanche pointed with his chin. "He has not decided whether to keep him to raise as a slave or to kill him. The boy has caused him much trouble. Fights with Bears is not a man of much patience."

Good for Billy, Andy thought. The more fight he showed, the better his chance of surviving. Andy remembered that when he had first been taken he had been subjected to heavy abuse. He realized later that he was being tested for his prospects as a warrior. Had he not kept fighting back, he might have been killed.

He asked, "Was my brother on the raid with you?"

"No. Fights with Bears was the leader. He and Steals the Ponies do not like one another."

Andy was relieved that his brother had not participated in Vince Purdy's killing and Billy's kidnapping. Yet he would have thought no less of him if he had been a party to the incident. The Comanches were simply following the customs of their grandfathers. Raiding enemies was a natural part of their life, like eating, like breathing. It almost took on the aspects of a game, though ofttimes a deadly one. Living with them, Andy had regarded this as normal. Now, having lived away from them, he could no longer accept it without question, not when it took the lives of good people like Vince Purdy and involved the capture of innocent children like Billy Gifford.

Yet, white men of the North and South had fought one another during four long years for reasons he had never quite fathomed. They had killed strangers, people they had never seen before and who had never done them harm. He could not see a great difference between that and the Comanche way.

Impatience set his skin to prickling. He was eager to move on, to find Steals the Ponies. Perhaps his brother could help him in some way to free Billy. "I must go," he said. "The longer I wait, the farther my brother may travel."

His host tried to get him to stay the night. "With families, they move slowly. You could start with the morning's light and catch them before the sun sleeps again."

Andy had another potential problem to consider. He had not seen everyone in this camp, nor had everyone seen him. A friend of Tonkawa Killer might yet recognize him.

He said, "I can ride far before the sun sleeps."

To replace the saddle, Andy obtained a rawhide rope to loop behind his horse's shoulders. He could tuck his knees beneath it to hold him steady should he encounter rough traveling. Except for his trousers, he left his white-man clothing behind in return for the hospitality. With a stick, his host drew a rough map on the ground. He described the site where he thought the group was likely to camp for at least a few days. The description sounded familiar.

"I believe I remember the place," Andy said.

"May friendly spirits ride with you."

* * *

The trail was as plain as a white man's wagon road, beaten out not only by horses but by tepee poles lashed together to form travois. Andy could have followed it at a lope and in the dark, but he did not want to push Long Red. He might have to depend upon the horse's stamina if circumstances called for a hard run.

In the middle of the afternoon he came suddenly upon three Comanche hunters on horseback. Two carried deer carcasses in front of them. They reined up and waited for Andy, suspicion strong in their faces. The one not encumbered held a bow with an arrow fitted into its string.

Nervously Andy greeted them in their own language. Like so many others he had encountered, they wanted to know how a white youth knew the words of The People. He explained as briefly as he could. "I have been away from my people a long time. I am looking for them."

He decided against using his brother's name. Should things go badly, he did not want to bring trouble to Steals the Ponies.

The hunters accepted him with reservations. "Ride with us," one said. "We will take you to our camp. Perhaps there you will find your family."

Nearing the encampment, they passed by the horse herd. This time Andy was not disappointed. He recognized Billy's pony and Purdy's horse standing together near the outer edge, like two old acquaintances thrown unwillingly among strangers.

One of the hunters said, "We hope you find what you are looking for."

Andy already had. He saw a woman cooking meat over an open fire in front of a tepee. She was Steals the Ponies's wife. Seeing no other woman with her, he assumed she was still the only one. Two children, a boy and a girl, played nearby.

He approached slowly, not wanting to startle her. She looked up at him without recognition. He said, "Do you not know me?"

Her face was blank. "I do not believe so."

"I am Badger Boy."

She almost turned over the meat pot. She embraced him, then stood back for a better look. "I can see now, but you are much changed. You were a boy. Now you are a man."

"I have come to see my brother."

"He scouts for buffalo. He should be here soon."

The boy and girl had stopped their play to stare at him in curiosity. He asked, "These are yours?"

"Yes. Before winter there will be another." She looked away, then pointed. "He comes. Say nothing. See if he recognizes you."

Andy's heartbeat quickened. The passage of years had not changed the way his brother sat on his horse. Andy could have recognized him from far away. Steals the Ponies did not seem to notice the visitor at first. He dismounted, obviously tired, and tied his horse behind the tepee. He carried his medicine shield inside, for it was a sacred thing to be protected from harm. Coming back outside, he spoke to his wife. "I am hungry."

"The meat is soon ready. Look. Someone has come to see you."

Steals the Ponies stared blankly a moment, then his eyes brightened and the weariness fell away. "Badger Boy!" He embraced his brother with such strength that Andy almost lost his breath. "But Badger Boy is no longer a fit name. You are not a boy."

"Among the Texans I am known as Andy."

Steals the Ponies spoke the name but found it not to his liking. "It means nothing. We must find you a new name, something better."

His delight began to fade, and concern crowded in. "You should not be here. Have you forgotten why you left us, why you had to go back and live with the Texans?"

"I have not forgotten. I remember the one who was killed." He avoided speaking the name. "I had hoped none of his friends are in this camp."

"They come and they go. One is here. Do you remember Fights with Bears?"

Andy had been hearing the name but could not recall the look of the man. His brother nodded toward the tepee. "We will go inside. We would not want him to see you."

"You believe he would still want me dead?"

"His wives are sisters of the one who was killed."

After entering, Andy waited until his brother sat, leaning against a back rest, then he seated himself.

Steals the Ponies said, "When you left, we agreed you should never come back. Why are you here again?"

"I have come looking for a boy. He is the son of people who have been good to me. I am told he was taken by Fights with Bears. I have come to take him back to his family."

Trouble pinched his brother's eyes. "You have come far and risked your life for nothing. You want too much. Fights with Bears has claimed the boy for his own. He will not give him up."

Andy remembered the proposal James and Evan had made to Martínez. "Perhaps he would trade for horses."

"He already has many horses. If you brought him more he would probably take them, kill you, and keep the boy. He listens to bad spirits, that one."

Andy did not know what else to propose for trade. He did not know how much money the Monahans might have. It was unlikely Fights with Bears had much concept of money's value anyway. Comanches understood goods, something they could hold in their hands, something they could use. Coins were of value only for ornamentation, and paper money was worth nothing at all.

"What can I do?" he asked.

"Go back to the Texans. You belong among them now. Forget about the boy. Tell them he is dead."

"His family are my friends. They weep for him."

"If they are young they can have other children."

"It would not be the same. Texans love their children just as The People do."

"Fights with Bears would not even talk to you."

"Then I will steal the boy in the night."

Steals the Ponies stared at Andy in disbelief. "Your Texas friends are too far away. He would catch you and kill you. He might be angry enough to kill the boy."

"I have traveled many days to find Billy. Now that I know where he is, I cannot turn away from him."

"You must. Or are you so willing to die for the Texans?"

Andy considered a long time before suggesting, "What if I offered to trade myself for him?"

"Fights with Bears would kill you and keep the boy. Why would you suggest such a foolish thing?"

"Because it is my fault the boy was taken." He explained about his failure to warn of the raiding party he had encountered prior to Billy's capture.

Steals the Ponies was incredulous. "You would trade your life for this boy? It would not be reasonable, even if Fights with Bears were a man of his word and would let the boy go. But of course he will not."

"I will not go back without Billy. I could not face those who have given me a home. I would be ashamed."

"You cannot stay here. There are others besides Fights with Bears who would gladly kill you." Steals the Ponies's expression became grave. "Even if they did not, you would not want to share the future of our people."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I have had a vision. It came to me one night, clear as in daylight. I saw our prairies without buffalo. Where the buffalo should have been, I saw the blue-coat soldiers. They were as many as the buffalo. We were helpless and hungry and cold." He shivered. "They herded us like the white man's cattle to a terrible place where we did not want to go."

"The reservation?"

"I think so. Many of our people are already there. It is the wish of the Texans and the soldiers that we all go there or that we die."

Andy argued, "The bluecoats have done little against The People since the white man's war ended. The Texans cry for help, but the soldiers do not listen."

"They will, and soon. The vision was very strong. For your own good, your place is among the Texans. You do not belong among The People anymore. If Fights with Bears and his friends do not kill you, the soldiers may. They will not see you as a white man. They will see you as one of us."

The bleakness of Steals the Ponies's vision left Andy depressed. He wanted to believe that his brother had simply experienced a bad dream. Yet during his years with the Comanches he had heard many stories about visions that came to pass. The People had strong faith in them. He could not dismiss this one lightly.

He said, "Perhaps the vision was a warning of what
might
happen. Were you not shown a way to avoid it?"

"The soldiers were too many. Their guns were too powerful."

"If the vision was true, there is no future here for Billy either. I must take him back to his own. It is a matter of honor."

Andy's brother sat in silence a long time, his face an expressionless mask. But Andy imagined he could see the mind hard at work behind half-closed eyes. He could sense the internal struggle. At last Steals the Ponies spoke. "You talk of your honor. If I helped you do this thing, I would lose my own honor. I would betray my people."

"Not all the people. Just Fights with Bears. You said you do not like him."

Steals the Ponies went silent again for a time, thinking. Finally he said, "There might be a way, but the spirits must be with you. You could die if they are not."

Eagerly Andy asked, "What is it?"

"I have not thought it all through. We will talk of it later. Now I must move your horse so Fights with Bears will not see him and wonder."

"I do not want to place you in danger. This is a thing I should do by myself."

"Fights with Bears would not kill me, and I would not kill him. We are bound together by the blood of The People. But you are not of our blood, and neither is the boy. He would kill you both. So I will help you."

Steals the Ponies was gone awhile. His wife was in and out of the tepee several times. Andy could sense that she was curious, but she asked no questions. The two children came inside and stared silently at Andy without approaching too closely. He wanted to tell them he was their uncle, but he decided against it. They might tell other children later, and word might find its way to Fights with Bears. He would know that Steals the Ponies was somehow involved in Billy's liberation ... if it worked.