He didn't know why he had thought he could do it. He never really understood what had crossed his mind. But his big head had somehow gotten the idea that he could make it, and so he had foolishly tired.

Don't ever try to outsmart and Indian, it normally doesn't work out so well.

He thought if he waited until dark, he could sneak out of camp and ride for help. He had suggested the idea to Mr. Favor and had been refused, so he decided to take the matter into his own hands and when no one was watching he snuck off. The situation was desperate, and he knew that they were in great need of help. Pete had said there was a town no more than an half hours ride to the west, and so he had tired for it. A great mistake on his part. The situation had been bleak before, but now it was downright ugly. Now the Indians had a hostage to bargain with and he knew that Mr. Favor would go to great lengths to get his man back, even if that meant giving into the Indians.

He had been captured by the Indians no more than a few miles from the camp, and after being knocked off his horse and drug to the chief, he was tied to a pole and left there. Blinking back the blood running into his eyes, he stared at the vast sky and sighed.

"I'm sorry Mr. Favor," he mumbled, and aloud his head to drop, closing his eyes.

Maybe he should have let him go. Or maybe he should have had someone sit on him to make sure he didn't go. Mr. Favor pitched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes before dropping his hand and looking at the worried eyes of Pete Nolan.

"I think we oughta go out and look for him," Pete mumbled.

"And get caught out in the open? No, Rowdy's in his own mess and for the moment that's where he's goin' to stay," Favor replied, his voice laced with irritated worry.

"You can't just leave him out there! No tellin' what'll happen," Pete argued, his voice raising a notch.

"Right now I need every man I got!"

There was silence as Pete dropped his head, knowing that Favor was right, but hating to admit it.

"Just pray he makes it," Favor mumbled, after a moment and walked away, as Pete watched him.

Shaking his head he walked back to his post and picked up his rifle. Perhaps Rowdy would make it. He doubted it, but one never could tell about the head strong ramrod. Perhaps he had just enough gall to make it through. All had been quiet; no sounds of a shot, and Rowdy had been gone for the greater part of an hour, so maybe he made it. Pulling his coat closer and staring into the darkness Pete forced his eyes to see past the black

"You better have made it, Rowdy," Pete mumbled.

A cold wind blew the dust through the still camp and played with the small fire as it passed on its way. The trees shuddered, and the grass swayed. No moon was out that night, and it was blacker than Wishbone's coffee. The cattle were restless, and not a man was out with the herd. It was way too risky to ride night watch. They had already lost three men to that, and they weren't about to lose anymore. Shorthanded as it was, and now with Rowdy gone…

Pete shook his head as he realized he had started to drift off, and slowly changed positions. It wasn't good for a man to stay one way for too long anyway. His hands were stiff with cold, and his head darted to look back at the fire as he longed for a hot cup of coffee. Wish had put the pot on some time ago, and it was probably ready right about now…He wanted some. Stood there and longed for it, but for some reason felt too lazy to go get it. Looking back out into the prairie, he shifted his weight and sighed. It was so blasted cold and a nice hot cup of coffee would be so wonderful. It'd put the feeling back into his fingers, and warm the inside of his stomach, and it would taste so good. He smiled and pulled his coat closer. Yes, a cup of coffee would be amazing. He heard the rattling of a cup and glanced over his shoulder just as a drover finished pouring himself a cup. It came out steaming hot, and looked heavy enough to stand a horseshoe in, just the way Pete liked it. His smile grew, and he was just turning to get some, when something whizzed past his ear and imbedded itself in the wagon wheel next to him. He recoiled, then dropped to the ground for better cover, nothing happened and Pete turned to the arrow just as a crowd of men gather around him. The arrow had already been pulled out by Mr. Favor, and he was fingering a bandana tied around it.

"Why, that's Rowdy's!" Pete stammered, his eyes growing wide.

"Yeah," Gil replied softly.

"Why those no good…!" Pete turned for his horse but was stopped by a strong hand on his arm.

"What are you gonna do Mr. Favor?" Joe Scarlet asked, stand just a few feet from Pete.

"There's nothin' we can do right now." Gil answered, his voice firm.

"Mr. Favor! You can't just leave Rowdy out there!" Jim Quince whined, and a great mummer of agreement ran through the drovers.

"Look! I don't like this anymore than you do. But for the moment this is the way it's gonna be. Rowdy took a chance and see what happen?" He waved the bandana about. "What makes you hot heads think you're goin' to be doin' him any good? Like it or not Rowdy's―"

"Mr. Favor, how do you even know he's still alive?" Pete turned back to Gil his eyes laced with disappointment and worry.

Releasing his grip on Pete's arm, and dropping his hand clutching the bandana, Favor frowned. "I don't, and that's another very good reason why we shouldn't ride out there. For all we know it's too late anyway."

With hanging heads the men dispersed and walked back to their posted spots. Gil Favor stood for some moments running the bandana through his fingers, deep in thought. He wasn't sure if the bandana was a good sign or a bad one, but he prayed that Rowdy was alright and stuffed the scarf into his pocket walking back to his post.

For the hundredth time that night, Rowdy was rudely kicked awake and drug to his feet being pulled back to the chief where him and another would argue over him until he was sent back to his pole and retied to it. Really he didn't know what they wanted but he found each visit to be interesting, even if he didn't understand what they were saying.

It was an hour before dawn and the sun had just started to send its early morning rays over the prairie. Rowdy had lost his coat, and so he welcomed the morning sun. His head weighed a ton, and he had a splitting headache that made stars dance in front of his eyes.

Turning his head back towards the Indian camp he watched as three warriors made their way quickly over to him.

"Here we go again," Rowdy sighed aloud, and moved his head back to the rising sun.

Cutting him lose the Indians had him sit on his knees and stood looking down at him mumbling amongst themselves. It took them less than a minute before one walked forward and punched him in the face. That set the other three in motion, and they had their 'fun' until the sun was full over the horizon, then they stopped and drug him back to the camp. Dumping him next to the fire, they walked away and left Rowdy alone with the chief and the Indian that had argued with him all night long.

"We long for only what is ours," the chief stated softly and slowly as Rowdy raised his head the wipe the blood from his nose. "Three of your people rode into our camp two nights ago and killed Prita and her son."

Slowly Rowdy's eyes lifted and he looked at the chief. "Yeah? And how do you know it was three of our men?" he fumbled, then choked.

"My son followed the tracks and they lead to your camp. All we ask is that you give us the three men, and we shall let you pass in peace."

Rowdy looked from the chief to the tall warrior next to him and back again. "Is that your son?"

"Yuma is my son and Prita was his wife."

Dropping his head again Rowdy smiled, it was as bad as he thought.

"You will return to your camp, and you shall let them know that every man shall be killed but the setting sun unless the three are given to us." The chief looked up at his son and nodded his head before slowly rising and walking away. Rowdy watched him go before turning back to the proud warrior who watched him.

His arms were folded across his broad chest and he watched Rowdy with angry eyes. It was a while, but finally he moved toward the ramrod, and dropping to one knee he pulled out his knife and grabbed a handful of Rowdy's hair pulling his head back. The sharp blade of the knife was pressed to his throat and held there for two agonizing minutes. In anger Yuma pushed Rowdy's head down and with speed he drove the knife into the ramrod's shoulder and yanked it back out.

"It is your throat I long to slit. But my father is very wise, and so you may keep your life," Yuma spat, and pulled Rowdy to his feet.

He drug the young ramrod over to his pinto and wrapped a long rope around Rowdy's hands before jumping up onto the pinto and pulling Rowdy behind. Drag was more like it, as Yates found it difficult to stay on his feet, but as his own camp came back into view he somehow found his footing and managed to stumble the rest of the way to camp. Yuma didn't ride the whole way there, he stopped some feet away and released Rowdy, turning his pinto and riding back over the hill.

Rowdy watched him go until his legs gave out and he slowly fell backwards, but he never hit the hard ground, someone caught him before that happened and he felt many hands lift him off the ground and carry him back to camp.

"I'm sorry Mr. Favor," he muttered, as he was laid on the ground.

"Never mind about it," Favor said softly, as he looked his ramrod up and down before glancing at Wish who was already busy patching him up.

The ramrod's face screwed up in pain and his eyes came wide darting to Mr. Favor who gave him a reassuring smile.

"They want three men," Rowdy breathed. "Said three of ours kill two of theirs. Said they want them before sunset," Rowdy mumbled, his eyes closing again as he neared unconsciousness.

Favor watched him until his hand fell limp and he turned to Wish. "How is he?"

"Well non too good. I've done all I can for him, Mr. Favor, but he oughta see a doc, and he oughta see one soon," Wishbone stated matter-of-factly and rose to his feet.

Exhaling heavily Gil stood and ran a hand through his hair. How in the world was he going to get a doctor out here, and what was he going to do about the Indians. Three of his men had killed two of theirs? Favor shook his head.

"Listen up," he called, in his deep baritone voice demanding every ones attention. When he was sure he had all eyes on him he started again. "The Indians are looking for three of you. Clamed you killed two of theirs, now which one of you would know anything about that?"

The man all looked away, and some shuffled from one foot to the other, but none of them offered any information. Gil's face grew slightly more irritated and he glanced at Pete.

"Pete, how about it?"

"Not me, Mr. Favor, I don't know nothin' about it. I've been too busy scoutin' to cause any trouble."

"Scarlet? Quince?"

"Weren't us, Mr. Favor," Quince mumbled.

"Yeah, we know more than to mess with any Indian," Scarlet added.

Favor nodded. He knew it wasn't them, and he doubted they'd have any information for him, but he had to start some place. Turning around he faced Hey Soos and glanced over him to the new man next to him. James was the name he gave when he signed on, and had never offered a last name, and was never asked for one. Gil studied him with the feeling he had found one of the guilty ones.

"James?" He said the name slowly and accusingly as everyone turned to look at the drover.

James looked nervously about the camp. "I know what you're doin' and you can't pin this on me! It weren't my fault! I didn't want nothin' to do with it. Tell them! Tell them Jimmy!" the drover turned to his companion who glared at him in contempt.

"Shut your mouth!" Jimmy snapped, and backhanded James for good measure.

Fifteen men started forward, but Jimmy had his gun in his hand before you could bat an eye and he pointed it straight at Mr. Favor.

"Sure, I was there, and so was James and so was Jon, we was lonely see―"

"Shut up Jimmy!" Jon snapped, taking a step forward, but Jimmy turned his gun on him and Mr. Favor held up a hand.

"No, let him finish."

"We were lonely, been out here on this prairie so long watchin' these dumb cattle that we got a little bored and thought we'd have some fun over in town. Snuck out of camp and got to town only to find there was no form of entertainment but one lousy saloon. However, since we had risked it all to sneak into town we shot off the money we had on whisky and started back. Got half way here when we ran into this Indian girl. Pretty." Jimmy smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "One thing led to another, and she didn't enjoy our company, and well we were drunk and...She ended up dead, along with her kid." Jimmy stood there smiling as if he were proud of his tale, and Jon shook his head with remorse. Favor just stared.

"You killed a girl and her child?" Favor stuttered.

"Yeah, what's all the fuss about? She was just some rotten Indian. It don't make much difference."

"Mister, you deserve to be handed over to the Indians," Favor snapped, angrily.

"And I'd like to be the one to take him," Pete muttered fiercely, standing even with Gil and staring down his nose at Jimmy.

Jimmy looked at the angry, shocked faces of the men staring back at him, and a nervous smile flitted across his face. "What? She was just an Indian." His gun was held firmly out in front as he pointed it from one man to the next. He sneered at them. "You ain't handin' me over to no Indian, I gotta right to the law, and ain't no savage is gonna have me." Angrily Jimmy began to back away keeping his eyes on the drovers. He didn't get very far before he tripped backwards over the wagon pole and landed on his back firing his gun as he did so.

Fifteen people where on top of him, pulling him to his feet and holding him steading as he fought against their hands.

"Let me turn him over to the Apache, Mr. Favor," Pete asked, glaring at Jimmy.

"No, it wouldn't be right," Favor answered hesitantly, keeping his eyes on Jimmy.

"Wouldn't be right?" Pete glanced at Favor surprised.

"He already took away his rights when he murdered that Indian girl," Scarlet added.

"Not to mention senior Rowdy," Hey Soos agreed.

"I don't like it any more than the rest of you, but turnin' him over to the Apaches…" Favor shook his head.

"Mr. Favor," Wish piped up, with a warning and all turned to look at a long line of Indians surrounding the camp.

Three rode forward and the men watched them come.

"I am here to take the men away. Have you decided who shall come?" The old chief spoke first.

"I can't hand them over to you. It is again my law. But I shall give them to the sheriff in town," Gil replied.

"It was not a white man they murdered. It is no longer a white man's choice. But I am fair and so I shall ask only for one." He stated this as a man who had made up his mind and would not be moved.

Favor stood rooted to place. He couldn't very well give them Jimmy, but he knew if he refused the Apache's would just grab their man anyway. He looked at Rowdy and sighed, what would he do?

The decision was suddenly taken from him as Yuma rode forward and straight up to Jimmy he pointed to the man and turned back to the chief speaking quickly and with much anger. The chief grunted a few times and before anyone could blink they had roped Jimmy and where dragging him away as he cried in fear.

Although every drover had threatened Jimmy and all had been willing to throw him to the Apache, they were now suddenly not so sure that it was such a good idea, and they all started forward at once, drawing their guns and getting prepared to fight for their man, no matter how unworthy he was. Not one ever got a gun from its holster. They were stopped by a dozen arrows being planted at their feet, and a dozen Apaches ready to kill the man that tried.

Mournfully they watched Jimmy be drug away until his cries for help were no longer heard, and the Apaches all disappeared as quickly as they came. The camp stood quite no one daring to move as the cold wind rustled through the camp.

"Pete," Favor said slowly, finally breaking the eerie silence. "Take Jon and James to the sheriff. Bring back a doc for Rowdy."

Turning to look at Favor with sorrowful eyes Pete nodded and started away.

"Quince, Scarlet, you go with him, make sure there's no trouble."

They mumbled a yes sir, and started after Pete.

Gil waited until the sound of their horses died away before turning back to the rest of his men. "Shows over, we got cattle to move, get on out there and round 'em up!" he snapped, and walked slowly to the supply wagon as Mushy busy himself making Wish happy, and Wishbone fussed over Rowdy.

Rowdy's eyes darted to Favor as he came into view and slowly he tried to rise.

"Whoa there." Favor pushed him back. "Just rest up easy."

"I'm sorry Mr. Favor," Rowdy breathed.

"Me too." He shook his head and smiled sadly. "Me too."

Rowdy watched Mr. Favor walk away before sinking back down and staring at the sky. Pain filled his foggy brain, as he lifted a heavy hand running it through his hair. Never in a million years would he ever try anything so fool hardy again. He shouldn't have tired it the first time. What had posseted is mind to do so?

Rowdy closed his eyes. He would think about that later, right now the pain was killing him. Slowly the young ramrod drifted off to a fitful sleep as the wind that had plagued them for days slowly died down, and a relaxing hush fell over the land.