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

the loose horses and mules. Very quickly they had to give up that attempt and fight for their own survival against the yelling, fighting teibos who seemed now to be everywhere.
    Just ahead, the women and children were fleeing, surrounded by a thin guard of warriors. Some were already falling behind and being swallowed up by the rapidly advancing Texans.
    The Comanches' supreme confidence seemed to have evaporated. They were caught up now in a wild rout, no longer an organized force but a thousand individuals running for their lives.
    Antelope appeared like a vengeful specter out of the choking dust. His stovepipe hat was gone, his face twisted in fury. "I told you!" he shouted. "That red-hair has brought this calamity down on us."
    His intention was clear. "No!" Buffalo Caller protested. He fitted an arrow to the bowstring. He could not kill Antelope. For one Comanche to kill another was unthinkable. But he could kill Antelope's horse.
    He heard the thud of a bullet. His own horse faltered, missed a stride, then went down. Buffalo Caller rolled away from him in the dry grass. He pushed to his feet, the dust burning his eyes, choking him. He felt around desperately for the fallen bow and found it. He looked up but saw Antelope nowhere. The warrior had disappeared in the brown cloud raised by all those pounding hooves.
    He tried to catch a riderless horse but was bumped hard and flung aside, falling to his knees. Another loose horse leaped over him, a sharp hoof striking his head. Buffalo Caller fell on his face, stunned, spitting out dirt and dry grass. He tried to push to his feet but could not. His scalp burned like fire.
    He heard a shout and saw a Texan bearing down upon him, a pistol extended at arm's length. Buffalo Caller tried to roll out of the way. He saw the flash and felt the hard shock as a bullet drove into his ribs.
    A blanket of darkness descended over him, but not before he gave way to despair. He was powerless to save the red-haired boy from Antelope's vengeance.
     
    * * *
     
    Warren Webb could only guess at the number of volunteers and ranging companies who had gathered to challenge the Comanche invaders, but he feared they were not enough. The new Republic of Texas had little in its national treasury except hope, and it could ill afford to pay the number of rangers it needed to patrol its broad frontier. Webb and Michael Shannon had once answered a call to enlist in a minuteman company during an Indian scare but had never received the promised wage. Even those officially enlisted as full-time members of ranging companies were sometimes obliged to pay their own way. They had little advantage over civilian volunteers except their official-sounding titles.
    Webb had never been this far inland, so the country was new to him. The word had been spread that all available Texas forces-organized ranging companies as well as volunteers-would gather at Plum Creek, which lay ahead. There, win or lose, they would stage the confrontation before the Indians could reach their hill-country sanctuaries.
    Shortly after dawn, scouts had come into camp to report the Indians were just a few miles away. Webb and Shannon had attached themselves to a group of volunteers headed by Captain Matthew Caldwell, known as "Old Paint" for the white splotches in his beard. Caldwell gathered his company around him and made a rousing speech. They knew him as a battle-seasoned veteran of the revolution against Mexico, a man always cocked and primed for a fight.
    "Boys," he declared, "there are a thousand Indians. They have our women and children captives. But we are eighty-seven strong, and I believe we can whip hell out of them!"
    An approving murmur arose from the men.
    Caldwell shouted, "What shall we do, boys? Shall we fight?"
    Loud cheers gave him the answer.
    A biblical phrase came to Webb's mind: the faith of the mustard seed . He thought it more likely that the Texans would be the ones who got hell whipped out of them, but the