ONE CLOUD almost rode upon th~ Indians grazing horse herd before he realized it;~ The summer sun had been b~ring down upon him for hours now, sapping his energy, stealing from him the vigilance that he normally never lost while riding across these fringes of Comanche country. In this unrelenting heat it was easy to drowse in the saddle, to let one s mind roam the thousand miles and more to the smoky battlefields of Virginia. There, even now, angry cannons thundered and men died in the blast of shellfire. But here, in these rolling hills that marked the western edge of the Texas cross timbers, it was still and quiet.., so very quiet. He saw the horses and yanked hard on the hair reins, pulling his sorrel back into the green cover of
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