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We raced west with the sun, but the going slowed down considerably once the tracks disappeared under a pile of snow. We knew the general direction Black Ben was going, so we kept heading west. We didn’t know if we were making good time or not, but the sun didn’t care and moved on over the horizon, leaving us no choice but to make camp.
It felt different being out in Comanche country this time. This time, I had the protection of Rattles and Scout. I had the eagle feathers Rattles gave me, tied around my neck like they always were, there to protect me. And we had the blue lance staked into the ground, sending a message to any roving bands of Indians still out there that we were under the protection of Rattles’s band.
The last time we ran a fella down into the Llano, we didn’t have any
