[Texas Rangers 02] - Badger Boy (22 page)

Badger Boy sometimes boasted that Steals the Ponies could trace the shadow of a hawk across bare rock.

For three days the trail led southward. Badger Boy began to wonder if his brother might have changed his mind about the Texan settlements and be heading for Mexico instead. He was disappointed, for he had much more curiosity about the Texans than about Mexico. However, the fourth day the trail abruptly shifted eastward. His brother's strategy became clear. He had remained well west of the settlements until he had led his fighters as far south as they needed to go. Now they were riding directly toward the Texans' farms. Badger Boy found anticipation exhilarating.

He was also feeling hunger. He began to understand what he had been told about the rigors of the war trail. He had eaten too deeply into his short supply of dried meat the first days. Now he had but little left. He summoned a strong will against a temptation to eat it all, to quell at least for a while the pangs that seemed to tie his belly into a knot. He realized he must not succumb to a desire for momentary relief at the expense of the larger goal.

He managed to put an arrow through a rabbit, which he roasted for a while over a tiny fire, then eagerly consumed half raw.

* * *

The first log cabin stopped him cold. He tied the roan on the far side of a small hill, out of sight, then lay on his belly in grass atop the hill. He studied the farm with an insistent curiosity. The sight prompted fleeting memories, so quickly come and gone that he could not quite grasp them and hold them for inspection. He vaguely remembered that he had lived in such a cabin once, not much different from the one he observed now. He remembered playing in the yard, riding a long stick and pretending it was a horse.

He could almost see a man and a woman in his mind's eye, but they were as elusive as the other memories. Hard as he tried, he could not bring them into focus.

Perhaps it was just as well. That was another life, gone forever. He had attuned himself to a different life among The People. Those others, whoever they might have been, were strangers to him. The spirits probably preferred that they remain so.

He saw a wagon standing empty beside a shed. He remembered riding in one long ago. It had to have been before his time with the Comanches, for he had never seen a wagon since Buffalo Caller had taken him. He had seen no Texans either, except a couple of captives. One had been a boy younger than himself, kept to raise by another band. The other had been a woman. The last he had seen of her, some warriors were dragging her away. He could only imagine what had become of her. He remembered being strangely affected by her screams as if he had heard them before. A wizened old grandmother had warned him not to show concern, for unwarranted sympathy might mark him unfit to be trained as a fighting man. Nothing that happened to a Texan woman could ever be punishment enough for injuries the Texans had done to The People, she said.

He studied the wagon a long time, wishing he might ride in it. Then perhaps he could summon a clearer memory of the last time. He noted that the wagon had four wheels. He had seen ox-drawn carts with two big wheels, brought out onto the plains by Mexican
Comanchero
traders from somewhere west. In them they brought all manner of fascinating trade goods. Later they would return to wherever they came from, the trade goods exchanged for cattle, horses, and especially mules the warriors had taken from the Texan settlements. Comanches had little use for mules, considering them much inferior to the horse, but they had found them valuable for trading.

He understood that the Mexicans did not like the Texans. Steals the Ponies said they had warred and the Texans had won. He wished he could have seen the fight. It was claimed that they had great guns many times larger than the rifle for which Steals the Ponies had once traded a horse and three mules to the
Comancheros
. It was said these guns made a noise louder than thunder. That was hard for Badger Boy to imagine.

He saw a woman come out into an open passageway between the two sides of the cabin, her long hair flowing in the wind. At the distance he had no idea if she were young or old, but something about her gave him pause, stirred unexpected feelings he could not understand. Curiosity would have carried him closer for a better look, but caution won out. In a field some distance beyond the cabin he could see a farmer at work. It was likely he had a rifle that could wound or kill at a much greater distance than Badger Boy's bow and arrows.

The raiders had made their trail much more difficult to follow once they reached the edge of the settled country, but Badger Boy knew they had passed this way. More than likely his brother had marked this place to be struck on the return journey. Then perhaps Badger Boy would get a closer look. He eased down the far side of the hill and remounted the roan. He set him into a gentle trot.

His mind turned back to the cabin and the people who lived there. He tried to reconcile them with fleeting wisps of memory that had long haunted him, tiny fragments of a past life.

An uneasy feeling came upon him. He had long recognized that he had strong instincts, premonitions about things not yet seen. Even forewarned, he almost rode upon a man and a boy in a wagon. Badger Boy saw them at about the same time they discovered him. His heart leaped. He could never explain to Steals the Ponies how he had been so careless. The man reached quickly behind the seat and brought up a firearm. The sound of the blast indicated it was a shotgun. Dust kicked up where the shot fell short. Fortunately Badger Boy was out of range. He hoped the man did not also have a rifle, for it could carry death much farther.

Badger Boy jerked the roan horse around and kicked him into a hard run, trying to get into the cover of a wooded draw before the
teibo
could fire again. As he reached the thick brush, he heard another shot. It was no more effective than the first, but the sound made his heart pound hard. Never before had anyone attempted to kill him. He found himself sweating, his mouth dry.

Warriors were not supposed to know fear, but Badger Boy was afraid. He looked back, thinking the man might come after him. He realized the wagon made pursuit difficult, for the roan could travel where wheels could not. He began to get a grip on his nerves, though he still felt as if his thumping heart had risen high in his chest, almost in his throat.

Steals the Ponies would be ashamed of him. He was ashamed of himself.

Later, when he had time to gather his wits, he realized he had made a mistake that could endanger the raiders. By allowing himself to be seen he might have started an alarm that would move more quickly than the warriors. The Texans might be ready and waiting.

He was so weighted down with anxiety and remorse that he allowed himself to become careless again. Riding through an oak thicket, he sensed movement on both sides, a rush of hooves. Horses charged at him, and he heard a battle cry. A warrior raised a club over his head. He checked himself, but not in time to prevent his horse from colliding with Badger Boy's. The roan staggered. Badger Boy grasped desperately at the mane to keep from being knocked off the horse's back.

An angry voice lashed him like a whip. "Badger Boy! Why are you here?"

He looked into the furious eyes of Steals the Ponies. He could not find voice to speak. His brother repeated the demand.

Struggling for breath, Badger Boy managed, "I wanted to ride with you.

"I told you many times, you cannot."

Tonkawa Killer pushed up close, a quirt in his hand, fury in his face. "Do you not know that you have endangered us all? What if you had been seen?"

Badger Boy swallowed. He had rather take a beating than admit what he had done, but to hold his silence would be the same as lying. "I was. A man shot at me."

The fear that had plagued him was confirmed in the accusing faces of the warriors who surrounded him.

Tonkawa Killer shouted, "You are a fool!," and swung at him with the quirt. Though the quiver of arrows absorbed some of the force, the lash bit deeply into his flesh. He cried out in pain before he could catch himself. A warrior was supposed to bear punishment without complaint. He bit his tongue as the quirt burned him a second time.

Steals the Ponies pushed between him and Tonkawa Killer. "That is enough. We cannot undo what has been done."

Tonkawa Killer said, "He is not one of us. He has the pale skin of a Texan, and he always will."

Badger Boy fought against a rising of tears. He looked into his brother's eyes, searching for a sign of forgiveness but finding none.

"Some of us may be killed because of your recklessness. Now we have to decide whether to go ahead or turn back."

Tonkawa Killer scowled. "Go back without horses? The village would laugh at us."

Steals the Ponies shook his head. "That is better than hearing the women cry because some of us do not come back at all."

Tonkawa Killer made a quick search of the warriors' faces. "Perhaps you should take your Texan baby back to the village. I will lead however many want to continue the raid."

Steals the Ponies had to concede the obvious, that most were not ready to give up what they had begun. They had invested too many days and nights already. "Either we all go back or we all go ahead. I can see that most of you want to go ahead, so that is what we will do."

Tonkawa Killer demanded, "What about that boy? He may already have spoiled our medicine. We cannot take him."

"We have no choice. We are too far into the Texan country to send him back alone."

Badger Boy began feeling better. This was what he had counted on all along, that they would have to let him remain with them. "Give me a chance to fight. I will do whatever you say."

Steals the Ponies glared at him. "Yes, you will, or I will let Tonkawa Killer wear out his quirt on your back."

His back already burned severely. Though he could not see it, Badger Boy sensed that the quirt had cut deeply enough to bring blood. He had been willing to shed blood on this raid, but he would have expected it to result from battle, not from punishment. Shame made him realize how small he really was, how badly out of place here among men who had proven their maturity and earned the right to go against the Texans.

Steals the Ponies frowned at him, then looked at the roan. "You are disobedient and you are foolish. But at least you have good judgment about horses."

That was small comfort, but even a grudging compliment was welcome in the face of so much blame. Badger Boy made it a point to ride close to his brother and as far as possible from Tonkawa Killer.

Steals the Ponies sent out "wolves" to scout the white men's farms for horses as they rode eastward. On their return they would pick up as many as they could gather without undue risk. The scouts brought back reports that they were not finding many horses. They brought back other reports that visibly disturbed the raid leader. The Texans were gathering what horses they had and holding them in corrals or herding them under guard. Moreover, the settlers seemed to be banding in numbers at certain points as if for defense.

Steals the Ponies called the men together in council under a bright, full moon. "The Texans act as if they know we have come among them. I do not know how they learned this"—he glanced at Badger Boy—"but our risk is greater now."

Tonkawa Killer did not mince words. "It is because of that child." He pointed at Badger Boy. "He allowed himself to be seen. We had as well have an owl in camp."

The owl was considered a malevolent spirit, a harbinger of misfortune, even death.

Steals the Ponies argued, "It could be that some sharp-eyed Texan noted our tracks. It is impossible to cover the trail of so many, however we may try."

Tonkawa Killer was not placated. "Our medicine has gone bad. Kill the boy and perhaps it will be good again."

Steals the Ponies was shocked. "Kill one of our own?"

"He is not one of us. He is a Texan. You cannot turn a mule into a horse."

Badger Boy drew close to his brother. He searched the faces of the warriors, wondering if any seriously considered what Tonkawa Killer said. He was unable to read their expressions in the moonlight. Steals the Ponies pushed himself protectively in front of Badger Boy. "This boy is Comanche now. If there is to be killing, let it be of the
real
white men, not my younger brother." He put extra emphasis on the word
brother
.

Killing of Comanche by Comanche was almost unheard of. But if it did occur, it would call for vengeance by the victim's kin. Steals the Ponies made it clear he considered Badger Boy to be of his blood.

Tonkawa Killer made a placating motion with his hands. "I will not hurt him. But if the spirits move against him, I will not interfere."

Steals the Ponies looked up at the full moon. "The light is good. Let us see how many horses we can gather."

T
he exhilaration of the raid overrode Badger Boy's shame. Though Steals the Ponies ordered him to remain a safe distance behind, he was able to hear the commotion. Scouts had found horses corraled in a log pen. It appeared that several farm families had gathered for mutual protection. The first inclination had been to pass the place by because of the difficulty of getting at the guarded animals, but the challenge was too strong for proud men to ignore.

Steals the Ponies and two others crept to the corral and cut the rope that bound the gate. They had pushed most of the horses through the opening before one of the Texans woke up to what was happening and fired a futile shot. Steals the Ponies leaped upon one of the stolen horses bareback and pushed the others into a run. The rest of the raiders fell in behind, whooping, shouting to bring the horses to a full gallop. Badger Boy was among them, yelling as loudly as any.

Several warriors dropped back to intercept any Texans foolish enough to pursue. Badger Boy would have joined them had they not included Tonkawa Killer. Instead he remained with the main body, driving westward. The bright moon yielded light enough for them to see where they were going.