Rose drew back as the Indian pulled aside the branch. Did he know they were here? Did he only guess?
Rose nearly stopped breathing when he rode his pony into the shadowy depths of the oaks, his rifle leveled. He must know they were here. She looked up into the treetops, but couldn’t see Zac. She hoped the Indian couldn’t either. She looked around for an escape route in case he discovered her hiding place. She could beat him across the creek, but she couldn’t get away, not when he was on horseback and she on foot.
Suddenly she noticed that the silence was so deep she could almost hear herself breathe. The horses and the other Indians were gone. Just the sentry remained. He looked at the ground. They must have disturbed the leaves. Maybe he could follow her trail to her hiding place.
She heard a strange animal sound, and the Indian looked back. His friends were calling him. The Indian looked over his shoulder, but didn’t turn his horse. He continued to study the ground.
The call came again, more impatient this time. Muttering something angrily under his breath, the Indian turned his pony. At the edge of the grove, he turned back once more.
Rose held her breath.
Digging his heels into his pony’s side, the Indian rode out into the sunlight and cantered off to join his fellow warriors.
Rose almost fainted with relief. She had known there were Indians and outlaws roaming over most of Texas, everybody knew that, but her days at the ranch had been so peaceful she had come to feel that no danger threatened her. George had made her feel safe. Now she realized that not even George could shield her from every danger.
She waited a few minutes to make sure the Indian didn’t mean to come back. It seemed as if she waited for hours, but she knew that only a few minutes had passed. Finally, she emerged from behind the roots of the fallen tree. She searched the trees overhead, but try as she might, she couldn’t see Zac.
“Zac,” she called softly. She was afraid to call too loudly for fear the Indian was close enough to hear. “Zac,” she called again when nothing happened.
A bit of bark fell at her feet, and she looked up to see Zac descend to the joint where the oak’s huge trunk divided in two.
“Is he gone?” Zac asked.
“I think so,” Rose answered, glancing nervously about to make certain the Indian wasn’t trying to sneak up on them from a different angle.
“Wait till I tell George,” Zac said, dropping to the ground. “He told me I wouldn’t see no more Indians.”
Rose didn’t want to tell George. She was going to have to think of a good reason for being so far from the house. George had never told her not to leave the house, but she had known it was a dangerous thing to do. Thinking about George had caused her to forget caution. It was a stupid thing to do, and she couldn’t expect George to think much of her intelligence after this.
“They must have had a million horses,” Zac told his brothers that evening.
“Closer to a hundred,” Rose corrected.
“I wonder where they got that many?” Hen asked.
“Must have been Hewson’s place,” Monty said.
“But that’s more than fifty miles from here.”
“Hewson probably thought he was safe. That’s why the Indians were able to steal so many.”
“Are you sure the Indian wasn’t doing anything more than serving as a lookout?” George asked Rose. “Was he wearing war paint?”
“His face wasn’t colored, if that’s what you mean,” Rose answered. “And he didn’t come up to the house. Do you think he knew you lived here?”
“Yes,” Monty answered her. “They know every rancher in the area.”
“Someone is going to have to stay at the house from now on,” George said. “It was stupid of me to think we could leave it unprotected.”
“We’ll take turns,” Hen said.
“And I don’t want you or Zac to go any farther than the creek or the corrals unless one of us is with you,” George said to Rose.
“Those old Indians won’t find me,” Zac stated proudly. “I bet I can go all the way to Austin without nobody seeing me.”
“We’re all going to have to be more careful,” George told his youngest brother, “even you.”
“But—”
“If you want to go with us again, you’ll do exactly as I say.”
“But—”
“How would you feel if some Indian shot Rose while you were playing in the brush, all because you weren’t here to warn her?”
Rose hated for George to make Zac feel guilty before he had done anything, but she realized it was probably the only way to make the boy stay close to the house. After years of doing pretty much as he wanted, he was having difficulty accepting discipline.