Although a person who had only been acquainted with Tommy Okasi in his capacity of valet might have questioned the wisdom of the decision, Ole Devil Hardin had not had the slightest qualms over sending him in search of the Arizona Hopi Activos Regiment. In fact, the Texian was confident that he was more than equal to the task.
Before he had been compelled to leave his homeland with no possibility of ever returning, xlvii the little Oriental had been a fully qualified samurai. xlviii The power and authority of the formerly highly influential warrior class was already on the wane, xlix but its members still received a very thorough education in many aspects of the martial arts. Not only was he well able to take care of himself in any kind of fight—whether it should be with his nation’s traditional weapons, bare-handed employing ju-jitsu and karate, or to a lesser extent, firearms l—he was equally competent at performing the exacting duties of a scout.
Holding his big blue-roan li gelding at the fastest pace that was compatible with following the tracks of the fleeing Hopi brave and carrying the long bow by hand through the woodland, Tommy kept constantly on the alert. He did not know if his quarry had companions in the vicinity, other than those who had been killed at the small river. So he listened carefully as well as scrutinizing the surrounding trees and bushes for signs of possible danger. Before he had covered much more than a hundred yards, he heard the sounds of several horses moving away; but he was far too experienced a warrior to be lulled into a sense of complacency.
From the signs he observed, Tommy deduced that one of the braves had been in advance of the other three as they were coming through the woodland. Either he had seen or heard something to make him suspicious, for he had returned to fetch his companions on foot. Further evidence of this was given when the little Oriental came to a spot where four horses had been tethered to a clump of bushes. There were torn off leaves, broken twigs and other signs to suggest that the fleeing man had paused to snatch free the securing ropes. He was still riding the dead Mexican officer’s mount which he had acquired from Ole Devil, and was apparently leading one of the remainder. Impelled by herd instinct, training, or an open plains dwelling creature’s distaste for wooded country, the other three horses were following.
In spite of the fact that everything he saw suggested that the quartet had comprised the entire scouting party, Tommy pressed onwards without any relaxation of his vigilance. He hoped that he would be able to catch up with his quarry and recover at least his employer’s reserve horse before going too far. If he could do so, he would deliver it—or them, should he be fortunate enough to obtain more than the one—to Ole Devil for use by the Hallisteads, who were in urgent need of transportation. With that done, he could resume his search for the enemy.
Much to Tommy’s unspoken annoyance, the hope did not materialize.
On reaching the fringe of the woodland, the little Oriental saw the Hopi a good three hundred yards ahead. He was traveling in the manner suggested by the tracks. What was more, he clearly had not overlooked the possibility of pursuit. Even as Tommy was emerging from the last of the trees, he gazed over his shoulder. Snapping his head to the front, he immediately encouraged the horse he was sitting and the one he was leading to increase their pace. To add to Tommy’s sense of vexation, the three animals which were running free, stimulated by a yell from the brave continued to keep pace with their companions.
An expert kyudoka, archer, Tommy appreciated the limitations as well as the qualifications of his weapon and skill. Even if an arrow would carry that far and he was fortunate enough to make a hit, it would not retain sufficient impetus to kill, or disable, the brave or the horse he was sitting. So the only alternative would be to try and ride into a lethal range. Once that had been attained, there would be no need for him to dismount before drawing and loosing a shaft. In spite of the bow’s length, it could be used effectively ztyabusame. lii
Instead of setting off immediately to make the attempt, Tommy gave rapid thought to the other aspects involved. It was, he realized, impossible for him to reach a shooting distance without a long chase. Nor was there any certainty that he would be able to do so. The Hopi had the advantage of riding a two-mount relay. If—as everything so far had indicated—he was an accomplished horseman, he could transfer from the newly acquired animal to the other while on the move and with little reduction of speed. Against that, Tommy would have to push his solitary animal without respite. At the end of the chase, and it was quite possible that he might fail to catch up, or be led to the rest of the Activos, he was faced with the necessity of returning as quickly as possible to pass on the information to his employer.
Reluctantly, for he still retained the samurai’s distaste towards admitting any task was beyond his capabilities, Tommy conceded that he would be unable to obtain the horses unless something unforeseen should occur. Being a realist, he was unwilling to rely upon such an uncertain eventuality to serve his purpose. So he concluded that the only course left open to him was to carry out the secondary mission of locating the rest of their enemies.
Waiting until the rapidly departing Hopi looked behind again, Tommy shook his bow-filled fist in the air and, with a gesture of disgust, turned his horse and retreated into the woodland. Halting when he was satisfied that he would be concealed by the trees, he saw nothing to suggest his true purpose had been suspected. Showing no sign of slowing down, much less coming back, the brave was disappearing over a distant fold of the ground.
Setting his roan into motion, the little Oriental once more took up the pursuit. However, he travelled in a vastly different manner. Now his purpose was to follow undetected rather than to catch up and attack. For all that, while he had not done so earlier, now he nocked an arrow to the bow’s string. If he had need of the weapon, it would be quickly, and there might not be time for him to remove and set it up when trouble came.
Advancing cautiously, Tommy studied the terrain ahead with great care. As he followed in the general direction taken by the Hopi, he took advantage of every available scrap of cover. When he had to cross a skyline, he first ensured that he could do so without running the risk of being seen by his would-be quarry. At intervals, he caught glimpses of the brave. However, from the other’s behavior, he was confident that he had not been seen in return.
After having covered about six miles in such a fashion, Tommy was treated to a suggestion that he was approaching the rest of the Activos. Halting behind a clump of bushes, he watched the scout talking with half a dozen more Hopi braves and pointing towards him. For a moment, he wondered if he had been less successful in avoiding being noticed than he believed. One of the warriors seemed to be urging the rest to advance. However, another—the oldest, if his gray hair was any guide—declined. Turning their horses, they accompanied the scout towards where more riders were appearing on the horizon.
Employing an even greater stealth and care, the little Oriental followed the latest party of Hopis. Noticing a small knoll that seemed well suited to his needs, he headed towards it. Leaving his roan concealed and ground-hitched behind the knoll, he returned the arrow to his quiver. Taking the telescope from his saddlebags, he carried it and the bow with him as he made the ascent. On reaching the top, he found he had an ideal point of vantage. Flattening on his stomach behind a rock, he laid the bow at his side and opened the telescope.
Half a mile from Tommy’s hiding place, halted on the banks of a stream, were a mass of men and horses. Using the telescope, he gave them a closer examination than was possible with the naked eye. One glance was sufficient to stifle any slight hopes he might have cherished. He had found the main body of the Arizona Hopi Activos Regiment.
What was more, there was a much greater number than Ole Devil had anticipated!
At least three hundred braves and twenty or more Mexicans, Tommy estimated as he scanned them through the powerful magnification of the telescope. His employer had assumed there would be two hundred at the most.
From what the little Oriental could make out, based on his experiences with the Texas Light Cavalry, the return of the scout and advance party had caused a halt to be called. While the majority of the Hopis were attending to the horses, some of their chiefs—who acted as non-coms and could be identified by the necklaces and bracelets of silver inlaid with turquoise blue gemstones they sported—and all the Mexicans were gathered around the survivor. Among them, he could recognize the man who had captured and been on the point of torturing his employer when he had intervened and effected a rescue. The man had escaped then, and again after the battle at Santa Cristóbal Bay. From what Tommy could make out, it was he who was doing most of the talking.
‘It was the Texian with the face of el Diablo, senores,’ the surviving scout announced dramatically, making the sign of the cross as he had been taught to do when mentioning the Devil by the mission fathers.
Although the words were addressed to the whole group assembled around him, the brave was looking straight into the face of the Arizona Hopi Activos Regiment’s current commanding officer. He had just completed a description of the events at the small river which confirmed the summations that Tommy Okasi had formed from reading their tracks.
A low and furious snarl burst from Major—recently promoted by virtue of his skill with a sword and willingness to demonstrate it, to the unofficial rank of colonel—Abrahan Phillipe Gonzales de Villena y Danvila’s prominent Hapsburg lips; which stemmed from the result of an indiscretion on the part of a female ancestor. Unconsciously, his right hand rose to touch the severed end of one of the long, flowing plumes of emerald green tail feathers from a cock Quetzal liii attached to the top of his black astrakhan Hussar-style Busby.
All too well Villena remembered how the damage had been inflicted by a bullet from the remarkable rifle belonging to the ‘Texian with the face of el Diablo,’ although it had been in the hands of the strange little foreigner who had proved to be such a terribly efficient and deadly warrior. He should have been grateful for having had a narrow escape, but he was not. In addition to having to flee from them, he had left behind his magnificent Toledo steel epee de combat that he carried instead of the more cumbersome cavalry saber. While he had subsequently retrieved the weapon, which they had not carried off for some reason, liv he would never forgive either of them for inflicting such a humiliation. Nor would he cease to hate them as long as they lived.
Slightly over medium height, with a physique that was reasonable without being exceptional, Villena was in his late twenties. Scion of an extremely wealthy family, he was truculent, proud and overbearing. His deeply bronzed and handsome face was marred by cold hazel eyes with somewhat drooping lids and an arrogant expression. Apart from being light green instead of yellow and having a few other minor differences, his uniform—which had been accepted as the official attire for the officers because his father had financed the formation of the Regiment lv—was modeled upon the late eighteenth-century Spanish Army’s Olivenza Hussars; in which, during the Napoleonic Wars, one of his forebears had been a colonel. lvi
‘Well, gentlemen,’ Villena purred, in the icily polite yet mockingly impolite way he always adopted to those he regarded as his inferiors. ‘It appears that I was correct about the actions of the rebel scum.’
On rejoining the surviving seven Companies after the defeat of the three which had made the disastrous attack at Santa Cristóbal Bay, Villena had announced that he was taking command and intended to avenge their dead comrades-in-arms. Using a chance comment that might have been construed as implying he had shown cowardice as an excuse, he had killed the only officer senior to him in a duel. That had served as a warning to any other potential dissidents. Knowing his quick and savage temper, as well as his deadly skill with a sword or a pistol, they had taken the hint and there had been no further objections to his proposals.
However, some slight demur had been expressed when Villena called for comments upon the proposals he had outlined for achieving vengeance. The general consensus of opinion had been divided on the matter of where the Texians might be located. Although it had been accepted they could no longer be found at the Bay, that was the only point upon which there had been unanimous agreement. Some of the officers had believed they would take a route to the northwest and deliver the consignment of rifles to the retreating main body of the Republic of Texas’s Army. Others had considered that they would travel in a southwesterly direction with the garrison at Fort Defiance as their destination.
Showing a surprising forethought, Villena had disagreed with both schools of thought. He had the advantage of knowing the nature of the man who had briefly been his prisoner and who appeared to be in command of the consignment. So he had decided that neither was likely to be the true objective. Or, even if Goliad had been the Satanic-faced Texian’s original goal, knowing that the Activos were likely to be between him and it, he would not take the most direct route. On the other hand, it was improbable that Major General Samuel Houston would want the rifles taken to him while he was withdrawing, Rather, he would have arranged for them to be transported to a prearranged rendezvous. The most likely point, in Villena’s opinion, would be the ‘capital’ city of the so-called Republic; Washington-on-the-Brazos. With that in mind, he had led his Regiment in the appropriate direction.
‘But, if—as that is the case, M—Colonel,’ the major commanding Company Five put in, making the corrections to his phrasing of the question and the honorific as he remembered how touchy the other was on such points. ‘Why was the Texian coming in this direction?’
‘He has left his command to carry out a scouting mission once before,’ Villena explained, having no idea that a second and larger force of the Mexican Army was operating not too far away. lvii Swinging a threatening gaze at them which dared the rest of the officers to comment upon how he had gained his information regarding the Texian, he turned his attention to the scout, ‘Did either of them follow you?’
‘No, senor,’ the brave replied and, having failed to see Tommy Okasi on the occasions when he had looked behind him, believed he was speaking the truth.
‘They’ll be going back to the mule train as quickly as they can now they know we’re so close,’ Company Five’s commanding officer suggested.
‘Then we’ll go after them as soon as the horses are rested, if that meets with your approval, Major Santoval,’ Villena answered, his tone and attitude filled with menace and offence. Once again, there was no response to his challenge and he looked at the group of Hopi war leaders. ‘Chief Tomas, send twelve of your best men ahead to find the rebels. Tell the rest that we will soon catch those who killed their brothers and they will soon be able to extract a terrible revenge.’