Read [Texas Rangers 01] - The Buckskin Line for Free Online Page A

autumn wind. Though resistance had proven strong enough to turn the raiders back from the heart of Victoria, Linnville had been crushed like a beetle beneath a warrior's moccasin. The spoils had been extraordinary. Those who had chosen to remain behind in the homeland would soon be ashamed for their timidity.
    The rear guard came along after a time, and Buffalo Caller grasped his horse's mane, pulling himself up. His eyes met those of Antelope for a moment before Antelope looked away. What he saw there convinced him that once they reached home he would have to remove his family from Antelope's reach.
    A warrior known as Feared by His Enemies pulled up beside him. "More white men have joined their brothers back there." He pointed his chin toward the horsemen, who trailed at a respectful distance.
    The number had increased; that was evident. "There are still far more of us than of them."
    Feared by His Enemies held up three fingers. "It has been three days, and they have not given up."
    "They will, or we will destroy them when we get back into our own country."
    Before camping that night, Buffalo Caller noted where Antelope located himself and found a place far away for Whippoorwill and the red-haired boy.
    The next morning was the fourth since they had chased the boats into the big water. The column had been traveling on gradually rising ground. The air was drier and less oppressive than at the coast, though the summer sun began spreading its heat soon after its rising. He could not yet see them, but Buffalo Caller could visualize the limestone hills not far ahead. Soon The People would be back in their own environment. The raid had been more than satisfactory, especially in terms of the wealth they had taken, but it would be good to breathe the familiar air of home.
    The unexpected approach of four Texan horsemen seemed more an affront than a threat. Surely they would turn back when they saw the full strength of the Comanche force. But they did not. Antelope gave a shout and led several rear-guard warriors in a charge. One of the Texans fired, and a warrior fell. The charge broke up in the face of unexpectedly fierce gunfire. The warriors turned back, rejoining the rest of the rear guard.
    The Texans kept coming.
    From a flank, a second group of Texans broke out of a fringe of live-oak timber and quickly halted, seeming surprised by the number of Indians they faced. They turned back into the trees. This time Buffalo Caller joined other warriors in pursuit. Yelling for blood, they charged into the timber. The Texans retreated, though one somehow lost his horse and ran after his companions afoot. In their haste to get away they appeared unaware of his predicament.
    He turned with terror in his eyes to meet death as the warriors rode him down. They celebrated over his scalp, but the celebration was short-lived. Gunfire erupted farther ahead. A larger Texan force plunged into the exposed flank of the main column. Buffalo Caller heard shooting, loud shouting, cries of dismay.
    The herd panicked, breaking into a wild stampede. Thousands of hooves drummed against the prairie sod. Some of the pack animals lost their loads, the contents bouncing as they struck the ground. Long bolts of colored cloth came unfolded, dragging along behind them in the dust and the grass.
    Unbelievable! There could not possibly be that many Texans. Buffalo Caller looked around with wide eyes, confusion giving way to fear. His wife and the red-haired boy were up there where the Texans were on the attack.
    It was his place to stand his ground and fight, but he could not. He had to see to Whippoorwill's safety, and the boy's. He put his horse into a hard run, passing the rear-guard warriors, flinging an arrow at a Texan who popped up ahead of him. He missed and had no time for a second try.
    Though the whites had trailed for four days, their sudden hold attack had taken the column by surprise. Some warriors were trying without success to stop the stampede of