"Noon. It's got to be noon . . . Right?"

"Would you quit staring at that sun kid? You're gonna go blind. What if we run into some trouble? This here is Mexican territory."

"Those critters are nasty too boy let me tell ya. The captain's right. Keep your eyes and ears on the task at hand, kid."

The three men rode on horseback through the sparse landscape for some distance, before setting their sights upon a small river, shaded by trees, and surrounded with grass. It was nearly sunset before they approached the river and dismounted their steeds. The tall, tan, brisk leader wears a thick, black mustache, with narrow tips; and a brown ten gallon hat, creased in the front, and brimmed upright ever so slightly. "You boys water the pack horses too." He said as he led his own horse to the surprisingly cool river, amidst the vast heat of what will one day be called Texas.

"Hey Boss?" The young greenhorn named Paulie inquisitively questions. "How soon you think we will get there?"

"Hell. I don't know kid. We got a ways I expect. I never been there. Map says we got to pass one more river . . . I suppose we might be there in another night or two." Captain Samuel Jones stated, providing the little knowledge he had acquired on the topic.

"Hey Captain? You expect your brother is doing well out here? I mean look at this place . . . It's not exactly paradise. He gonna have work for us?" The second in command worriedly questions as he drinks from the river.

"Well Bradford, I don't rightly know. His last letter was the summer of 1813. While we were still fighting in that dern war. He said he had a ranch on a beautiful piece of land. He said he had horses and beef. He even told me he had a brood of pigs. He slaughters them on special occasions, you know... Sure sounds nice to me. Better than those dang bombs bursting in the air." The Captain informed his second in command as he shifted his gun belt, and knelt to drink from the calm river.

"Yeah I know, Cap. But that letter was over five years ago. He might have left since then. Or maybe the rivers shifted. Maybe the maps no good no more. I mean no whites live down this far . . . Who would? I sure as hell don't trust these Mexicans." Lt. Luke Bradford said in a displeased and untrusting tone. The Lt. is a shorter man, but scrappy as can be. He stands five foot, seven inches, atop the prettiest, most well-kept boots anybody had ever seen on a trail. Every morning he would walk around in his skivvies shaking the dust from his clothes and spit shining his boots. He was determined to stay clean, no matter the weather conditions.

"Maybe we should sleep for a couple hours then travel some more at night." The Captain looked around the empty landscape. "Looks comfortable enough to me. We can sleep off some of this trail. The dogs will wake us if there's any trouble." He looks to the labs, lapping up the water nearby.

"Sounds good to me boss. I'm beat." The young, scrawny, inexperienced, boy said with hopeful slumber in his eyes. Paulie Greeley is only seventeen, picked up by the captain and Lt. in Louisiana. He said his folks and kid sister were killed by Comanche's when they were moving west. So he came back to Louisiana to his uncle's house, but they were naught to be found. The neighbors told him, his uncle moved a few years ago. Sold their land for a nice piece of coin too, they said.

The three men slept a few hours before they woke to the dogs growling. Each of them reached for their baker rifles nearby, except for the kid, he only had a single shot, flintlock pistol. "Keep calm boys, lift the sleep from your eyes . . . Luke you see anything?" The Captain quietly questions his Lt. and scout.

"No. What those dogs see anyhow?" Only the dogs can be heard faintly growling. "Awe, Captain . . . Those damned dogs is sleeping." He stands to his feet and steps towards the dogs. "These mutts are just dreaming." He lightly kicks one of the dogs. "Some watch dogs you are. Fall asleep on the job . . . " He spoke with the dogs, as they snarled back, displeased at the prospect of awakening on such harsh terms. "Don't you get mad at me. I'm not the lazy asshole. You is."

"Leave those dang dogs alone Bradford. It's good they were just sleeping. Them Indians run nearly as thick as the vaqueros down here. We're lucky to only have sleeping dogs for company. We ought to be moving anyhow. Go grab our gear. We'll break our fast with some jerky as we ride." The other two men groaned as the Captain mentioned more jerky for another meal.

"I sure do hope your brother slaughters the fatted calf for us when we get there. Like the prodigal son's return in the good book. Lord knows we could use some different eats. Anything but this dern jerky." Bradford ranted in an unpleased tone.

"I expect he will feed us better than we've had in the past few years. No reason to fret over it. At least this jerky is fresh. Remember those meals we had in the army? Now those were something to piss and moan about. This jerky is rather nice when you remember those meals." The Captain stated, bringing up a memory and taste Bradford would have rather forgotten.

"You certainly have an interesting take on life. Replace a bad moment in your life with a worse one. Most people get through the bad times by thinking of something good. No, not you, you replace bad with worse. I don't understand how that makes you feel better 'bout the situation." Bradford chuckled as he relished over the Captains perspective.

"Luke is right, Boss. You sure can be funny at times." Young Paulie said as he looked to the Captain with a wry grin.

The troop traveled all night and into the morning before coming upon a small run down ranch. "Whoa. Whoa. Slow your step boys. We seem to be coming up on someone's land here. Grab your rifle scope Bradford. See if anyone's home." The Captain ordered.

Bradford removed his rifle from the saddle holster and peered towards the cabin. "Broken windows Cap. Looks abandoned . . . Wait I see movement inside . . . Nope, just a bird, Cap. Don't think anyone's been here for some time."

"Well I suppose we can get a little shade for a time and check out the situation." Everyone agreed and made their way towards the abandoned shelter in a cautious, hesitant, fashion. They reached the shelter as a few birds scurried from within, leaving through the broken windows and the opened door. Captain Jones was the first to enter the sparsely lit room, with his single shot pistol at the ready. "Looks like we've got some company, there's a critter over yonder." Samuel gestured with his gun. "Maybe we can have some lunch? What the hell is that thing, Bradford?"Each of the men looked at the shelled creature curious as to its breed.

"Why Captain, that's an armadillo, I seen one once. Quick little buggers they are." Young Paulie stated. "I never heard of anyone eaten them." He said, sickened by the thought.

"Oh hell kid, people eat all sorts of funny stuff. I'm game to try something new." Luke eagerly salivated as he thought of some perfectly delicious new meat. He pulled out his buck knife as he shifted toward the scared creature. "I'll get this little varmint." Bradford approached the creature cautiously, unsure of the critter's defensive ploys. The armadillo just stayed in the corner attempting to not be seen. As the Lt. picked up the critter its legs wiggled to find a grasp on the familiar ground. "Yee-Haw, we're gonna eat some fresh meat tonight boys!"Bradford exclaimed. "This shell is hard, how much meat you think these buggers have?"

"Golly, you're really gonna try to eat that thing, Luke?" Paulie questioned.

"Sure am. Why the hell not? If it don't taste good we still have our jerky. And if it's good eats, well hell, we'll have something to eat on the trail besides that dern jerky. Either way, we're gonna camp here for the night, might as well try it out." Luke stated with his no nonsense logic.

"The Lt. is right. If he can figure out how to gut it and pull some meat from that hard casing, we might as well give it a go." The Captain reassured his young recruit.

Bradford had the boy start a fire while he got to cutting open the creature. After killing the small critter he hit the shell a few times with the butt of his knife, to crack the hard exterior. Luke toiled over breaking the shell apart and stripping the meat clean. He grabbed a couple of skewers from one of his saddlebags and pierced the meat in chunks. While Bradford kept busy, the Captain braced a couple sticks alongside the fire, using them as rotisserie rods for the skewers. "The things you learn in the army, I tell ya, that's probably the best thing I received from my service . . . Learning from the other guys."

"I hear ya Cap. Some of those boys had tricks that not only saved our lives, but also made them more bearable." Bradford added while agreeing. The boy just listened, hesitant to remember his own experience with violence. While the meat cooked, all three watched the fire and relaxed their minds, enjoying the comfort of silence. Bradford grabbed his flask of whiskey and had a nip. He gestured to the Captain, but the Captain just shrugged it off.

"I'll wait till we're safe with my brother. Best to keep a clear head in this territory." Samuel stated, knowing full well Bradford would not only do as he pleased, but would also be able to handle himself in a semi-inebriated state. If anyone could hold their liquor, it's Bradford.

Luke just nodded his head as he capped the cork. Then pulled out his knife and cut off a chunk of meat. "Looks good." He blew on the hot slice and then ripped a chunk with his teeth. He chewed for a moment then said, "Eat up boys, it tastes like rabbit." Luke informed the others with a smiling mouthful.

Everyone ate and enjoyed their small meal. After swallowing the last bite, the Captain remarked, "Remember Private Josiah? I just remembered, he told me once that you could season your meat with gunpowder. Wonder how that tastes?"

"Yeah I think I heard that as well. If there was anyone who could survive in the wilderness it would be him. Josiah knew everything about tracking and hunting. It's a shame. If he was in the forest with a bear stalking him he would have survived. Unfortunately it's hard to outwit a cannonball, especially when their coming from all over." Bradford remarked with a grin, unbefitting the tragic memory.

Samuel noticed the grin as he said, "He was a funny kid. I sure did like him."

"Quiet . . . Did you guys hear that? Put that fire out kid." Luke said as he grabbed his rifle. After Paulie had kicked enough dirt over the fire to smother the flames, Bradford ordered. "The house. Make your way slowly to the house. Someone saw our fire. They're coming our way."

Samuel and Paulie followed Luke's lead. They all made it to the house and found a window to rest their rifles upon. "Did you see them Bradford, or just smell them?"

"I heard them. I think they're Indians. Quiet and smart. Not sure how many, but they usually scout with no less than five. I doubt the whole tribe is on the move, but if so . . . There is no way we could hold off an entire tribe until morning."

"That little bit of meat was nothing to get killed over. We should have just ate that jerky." The Captain grumbled at the predicament.

"Cap, no need to relive our unintended mistakes. We have to figure a way out of this, we can't do that if we're focused on the past. I've seen two so far, one is still there. If need be I might can pick him off, but I don't want to start a fight if that's not their intention. I guess they ain't Indians, they're wearing hats, not feathers . . . Might be we settled in their camp." Luke guessed at the possibilities.

"Well hell. They're probably banditos. I don't think we are lucky enough for them to be friendly. We shouldn't expect a warm welcome." Samuel persisted with his grumbling.

"Why don't we just yell to them and see what they want. They know we're here. They saw our fire and probably see our horses. And they definitely hear those dang dogs."The kid suggested.

"I suppose the kid has the right of it." Bradford looked to the Captain and nodded. Captain Samuel Jones began to yell to the surrounding threats. "We're not looking for any trouble! We just wish to move on! No need for gunplay! Let's just all go our own ways! You hear me? We don't want trouble!" The men listened for a while without response.

"What should we do Cap? If we wait it out, we might be giving them time to steal our horses. If we make a run, they might kill us, then steal our horses. I don't see the path. Do you?" Bradford questioned hopeful in his Captains wits.

"Our horses are right outside. It is dark. Maybe we can make a break for it. Might be we stand a better chance fleeing. They may have been riding all day, might be their horses are tired. We may get lucky if we leave now, but if we stay . . . They could burn us out, steal our horses, and leave us for dead. If they're friendly they will let us leave. I doubt they have a large group, if we go quickly we can head south. The river should not be too far, we might make it there by daybreak. Then we head west. My brother said he would be on the Brazos River. The fourth or fifth river from Louisiana, depending on our route. This map shows many rivers, but if we kept true and traveled how I believe, we should be there tomorrow. Let's make a run for it. Grab your own pack and lead horse and worry about nothing else. Just grab your leads and make a dash south. Keep a wide berth, we will reunite when it is safe." Luke and Paulie nodded in recognition and reply. The three men made a break for the horses, quickly untying their leads and mounting their steeds. They headed south in a rush, continuously looking behind, awaiting their unwelcomed company. But they were naught to be found. They rode until morning, yet they still had not met a river. All three were getting tired on account of not being able to sleep for a stint. They were glad for the rest they had, while it lasted, but unfortunately it made them more tired. The horses did however gain enough relaxation for the long ride, but they too grew tired. The men pushed their mounts hard for fear of the suspicious gang they left behind. The river was naught to be found, soon the sun began to set behind the horizon. And the men grew worried as their horses sleepily trotted.

"We're gonna have to rest these horses. We been pushing them too hard. I don't know where this damned river is. You see any trace Luke?"

"Not here . . . You grab this here pack horse. I'll ride off ahead. My gelding has more stamina than your old steed . . . I'll whistle if there's a river, yell if there's trouble. Sound good?" Bradford questioned his approach, making sure the others were on the same page.

The captain agreed and decided they should walk the horses for a spell. "Hop down from your mount kid, we'll give these horses a break." The boy nodded and descended from atop his grey colt. As Luke and his black gelding strode off, the Captain started to feel a little uneasy about the territory. Trees lined the valley that slowly cascaded downward. The two men, walking five horses, were in the wide open valley, with no cover. "I don't like this . . . We don't know this land and those men that ruined our respite probably live off this land. Not good, kid. We shouldn't have gotten ourselves in such a position. Grab the leads, direct the horses to act as a fort around us. If we can safely walk within the shield of our horses, I would feel more comfortable." So the boy grabbed three lead rains creating two walls alongside. Captain Samuel Jones held a lead in each hand and trailed the horses behind the grouping. Closing off any unforeseen attack.

Bradford rode his mount at a comfortable gallop down the sloping valley. There was no visible river, but he had a feeling it would be at the base of the valley, beyond the growth of trees. He had soon escaped the sight of his party. And came upon the tree ridge, he slowed his mount and listened for running water. The wind was heavy enough to create a howl within the trees. It was indistinctive from any other flowing sound. He turned about to see if his friends were still in sight, pulled out his rifle and looked through another vantage. He saw the brood of horses and grinned at the Captains fortitude. 'He sure knows how to stay alive', he thought to himself, and chuckled at the notion. Then turned his black about and ventured into the shaded unknown.

After a small tromp through the trees he came to a short clearing and a steady flowing river. Luke turned back around after a short drink, for him and his mount. In the midst of the shortened wood Bradford heard a gunshot, followed by a few more. Luke pushed his steed hard, dashing through the branches and traversing the trees. Upon reaching the base of the valley he pulls out his rifle and peers through the scope, attempting to sway with the motion of the prancing steed. He could not see well, but what he did see was three loose horses heading his way. He slows his mount and gathers the loose reins, quickly tossing the leads into a thick, round, entangled bush. He then heads toward the slow crackling gunfight. He looked through his scope once more and saw two horses lying down, with two men tucked in between the once animated fort. They seemed to have their pistols at the ready, while being bombarded by the staggered shots. Bradford noticed the mists of blood as the bullets hit the dead horses. Bradford demounted, kneeled under the neck of his horse, holding the reins, while steadying his sight down the barrel of his gun. He first examined his mates, then peered towards the tree line, soon finding a brush of smoke. Short bursts of smoke periodically puff out of the stagnant grey cloud, near the tree line. Bradford levels his aim and shoots for the envisioned man, behind the growth of trees. He then moves on, loading his flintlock rifle with another bolt, while searching for a different target, unbeknownst to success or failure. Bradford found a target within sight and possibility, so he shot the man in his chest, but again moved on without confirming the kill. Luke loaded his rifle and looked for another target, he found just that. He struck down the foe, with a swift second shot to the head after missing his first attempt. The gunplay abruptly stops, Luke did not see another foe, nor even a sign. He looked for movement amidst his company, but saw nothing there either. He loads his rifle then mounts his steed heading towards his comrades, all the while searching for the enemy. Bradford cautiously arrives to his friends, that are covered in blood, from what he hoped was the dead horses. Luke called out as he dismounted and approached his company afoot. "Cap? Greeley? You boys alive?"

"Is that you Mister Luke?" Paulie questioned, hopeful for the rescue. "Is the shooting over? Did you kill them all?" The boy asked not wanting to raise his head and be shot.

"Them that isn't killed, must have fled. Are you and the Captain alright?" Luke questioned for the second time.

"Boss is shot, but still breathing. He passed out when you started shooting. He told me to just lie still and play dead. He said if you couldn't fend them off, no one could . . . My leg is pinned under this horse. I can't get up." The boy informed Bradford.

Luke walked over and helped the boy free, continually observing his surroundings for the enemy. Once freed, Paulie struggled to his feet, then hobbled over to help Luke move the Captain. They gently slung him over the front of the black gelding. Bradford went back and grabbed what gear he could from the two dead pack horses. Paulie hopped atop the horse with a little help from Luke. Then Bradford put what he could on the horse, and carried the rest himself. They all made their way to the other three horses amidst the entangled bush. Paulie moved to a different horse, with many moans and groans over his broken leg. Then Bradford mounted the Captains old steed and led the four horses to the river that they had waited so long for.

Luke allowed everyone a quick drink while he checked the Captains wounds, he was shot twice, once in the shoulder region of the chest, the other shot was taken in the leg. Bradford, clumped some mud together, and packed it in each wound, to slow the bleeding. Then gave Samuel a drink when he awoke, during the cleaning of his wounds. Captain Jones told Luke, "Find my Brother, and do not stop. He should not be far west. I think there were six men firing at us . . . You did not kill them all."

"I know Captain, they gave up because they couldn't see me. But they will be back, this is their land, and they know how to hunt us. We will not stop until we are all safe, but Cap . . . Your wounds are bad, a hard ride . . . I just don't think . . . "

"You can't think about me, or we are all dead. There is nothing you can do anyhow. I need a doctor, not a scout. Just go. Don't dilly dally." The Captain ordered.

The group headed west, down the river. It was only four hours before they saw a ranch on the other side. But the river was too vast to cross by horse, especially with two injured men, and four tired horses. Fortunately one of the ranch hands noticed Bradford approaching and waving his hand for help. The ranch hands quickly sent a raft across the river and picked up the tired men.

Upon reaching the other side, the ranch hands tended to the wounded, and in doing so they noticed the Captain was not breathing, nor did he show any signs of life. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your friend here . . . He ah . . . He's gone. We can't do anything for him." The older scruffy hand informed the already suspicious Bradford. "Hey, what the hell are you men doing this far south anyhow? This here is dangerous land to be traveling in such light company. Especially if you're white. Don't you know this here is Mexico?" One of the hands questioned.

Luke was the first to answer. "This man is my Captain. He was a good man. His name is Samuel Jones. Brother to Jebidiah Jones. I believe he is the man that owns this here ranch. Is that so?" Bradford questioned with grave hopefulness.

"Yes Sir. Mister Jeb is the boss here. You say that's his brother?" Bradford just nodded, unable to come to terms with his friend's death. The ranch hands carried the dead Captain inside the adobe walls of the ranch.

Jebidiah Jones was informed of his brother's homecoming and death, and came out to greet the comrades of his fallen brother. "So this is Samuel, come home at last . . . I have waited so long, to see my brother again. Though, I had not thought it would be like this. How did this happen? When did this happen?" He questioned Bradford, because Paulie was not there. Some of the hands brought the kid to see the doctor, in order to treat his broken leg.

"I sure am sorry to bring such heartache to your home." Bradford apologized, though none of the fault was his doing. "This happened just a few hours back. We was ambushed between this river and the last, by some banditos. The Captain just wasn't prepared for such an ambush. Those damned Mexicans surrounded the kid and your brother." Bradford raised his hat and massaged his forehead. Then said, "I was afield when the shooting started. If not for that we might all be dead." Luke said, realizing the Captain probably sheltered the kid, and saved his life. "Your brother was a good man. I have known him for many years."

"Well, I appreciate you returning him to me. It's good to see him one last time . . . Even if the circumstances are grave." Jeb stated, grateful for his brother's homecoming, yet mournful for the circumstance. That night they ate and drank in Samuel's honor, sharing failures and triumphs, reliving the life of a great man.

The next morning the ranch held a funeral and burial for Captain Samuel Jones, fallen brother, and friend. Lt. Luke Bradford gave the eulogy. "Today we say goodbye to a friend, a brother, and a captain among men. He served his country true, when so many fled. During the war, our brigade held the Chesapeake Bay, thwarting the British Navy. During the last moments, we raised the American flag, letting the British know we are here to stay . . . Samuel was a funny man. We defended our land, only to leave America and settle in Mexico. He fought for the land of the free, and died in this God forsaken place . . . He loved his country, enough to envision a greater territory not just in size, but in honor, and valor. He believed, now that America has defended its land from foreign attacks, we should spread west into the lands Lewis and Clark mapped out. It's a shame he could not witness his dream. He was a good man." Luke bowed his head and said a silent prayer, then lifted his head, put a gentle hand upon the coffin, and said aloud. "Goodbye old friend. Maybe we will meet again, not in this life, but maybe the next."