Nearly two months had passed since Christmas. It was now the middle of February. Nate Stewart leaned against the adobe wall of the building behind him. His mind drifted back to everything that had happened to him over the past several months. It had certainly been an eventful time in his life.
Nate’s father had decided to transplant his family from their comfortable life in Wilmington, Delaware, to a hardscrabble ranch outside San Saba, on the Texas frontier. Unlike his older brother, Jonathan, who had taken to cowboy life easily, the transition had been difficult for Nate. He’d hated the isolated ranch, the small cabin which was their new home, the hot weather, Texas, and everything about it. A band of raiders had attacked the ranch, leaving Nate for dead, and orphaning him. It was only good fortune a patrol of Texas Rangers came across him, treated his hurts, and arranged for him to return home to Delaware.
However, Nate’s mind had changed after the attack. He was determined to remain in Texas, and find the men who had murdered his family. That had seemed impossible, until Fate stepped in, and he saved the life of Ranger Jeb Rollins. Jeb decided there was something hidden deep inside the youngster that no one, not even Nate, had realized was there. Call it guts, sand, bravery, courage, or whatever you wished, that one moment convinced Jeb that Nate had what it took to become a Ranger. Of course, since he was only fourteen, Nate was too young—by four years—to become a full-fledged Ranger. So, Jeb planned to arrange with his commanding officer, Captain Dave Quincy, for Nate to be taken on as a camp helper. Instead, Quincy had signed Nate on as a probationary Ranger, skirting the age requirement by listing Nate’s birth date as “unknown”. Quincy’s decision had proved to be the right one when the same band of renegades which had murdered Nate’s family attacked the Ranger camp. It was only Nate’s alertness which had saved the entire camp from being wiped out.
Since then, Nate had learned not only how to survive, but to thrive, on the harsh Texas frontier. He’d learned how to ride a horse, shoot, fight, and how to keep ever ready for danger. He’d been taught by Percy Leaping Buck, the Rangers’ Tonkawa Indian scout, how to track, and how to find food in the often unforgiving Texas wilderness. He’d even nearly been drowned when he fell into rain-swollen Blue Creek and was swept away into the Rio Grande, ending up in Mexico.
Unlike the naïve, scrawny, frightened kid he was when the Rangers found him, he had toughened up. He could stay in the saddle for hours, and go for days on only a few bites of jerky, a couple of swallows of water, and snatches of sleep. He and another young Ranger, Hoot Harrison, had stopped a bank robbery and had helped fight off the same band of outlaws again when they attacked a ranch where Nate and Hoot were visiting. Nate had shot several men, and been shot himself.
Most importantly, as far as he was concerned, he’d finally killed the leader of the outlaw gang which had murdered his mother, father, and brother, and several of his fellow Rangers. The entire outlaw band had been killed during that final confrontation.
After that gunfight, Captain Quincy offered Nate the opportunity to resign from the Rangers and return home to Delaware. Nate turned him down flat. He’d grown to love Texas, and being a Ranger.
Nate smiled to himself at the thought of how much his life had changed.