25
“Don’t care for this,” Frank said in a loud whisper. We had grown more cautious and were now walking our horses in silence. What had once been flat land was now craggy and full of giant rocks shooting up out of the ground. Boulders peppered the landscape, and there seemed to be canyons and ridges and mesas and buttes everywhere.
“It’s pretty,” Hap said. “But it don’t look all that friendly.”
“No, it don't.” Frank got off his horse. “Too many ambush spots. Too many places to hide.”
“You think there’s Indians out here?” Baxter asked.
“Aw, could be some rogue Apaches here and there, I suppose,” Frank said.
“Apache like Comanche?” Baxter asked.
“Nothing is like the Comanche, but the Apache comes pretty close. I know the Comanche and Apache don’t care for one another. Before the Coman
