A Texas Hill Country Christmas by William W. Johnstone Read Free Book Online

let me ride on ahead, Major. That’s what a scout’s supposed to do, after all.”
    â€œI don’t like sending out a man alone when there are hostiles in the area,” Macmillan said with a frown. “Take one man with you. Your choice.”
    Matt thought about it for a second and then nodded. He knew why Macmillan didn’t want him scouting alone. If anything happened to Matt, a second man could gallop back to the others with a warning.
    â€œI’ll take Private Brenham,” he said.
    â€œVery well.” Macmillan hipped around in the saddle. “Sergeant . . .”
    â€œI heard, sir,” Houlihan said. He turned his head and called, “Brenham, front and center!”
    One of the young troopers pulled his horse out of the line and trotted forward to join the sergeant, Matt, and Major Macmillan as the three of them reined in again.
    â€œYes, Sergeant?” Brenham asked in a southern drawl. He was a Georgia boy, Matt knew from talking to him, who had been able to knock a squirrel out of a tree with a bullet from an old single-shot rifle almost before he could walk. Matt figured it would be good to have such a sharp-eyed marksman with him.
    â€œYou’re goin’ with Mr. Jensen,” Houlihan said as he nodded toward Matt. “That is, if you’re up for a wee bit o’ scoutin’.”
    A quick grin appeared on Brenham’s face before he made his expression solemn again.
    â€œSure, Sergeant.”
    â€œKeep your eyes open, trooper,” Macmillan said. “And listen to Matt. You’ll find that he knows what he’s talking about.”
    Matt was only a couple of years older than Brenham, but he had been making his way on the frontier for a long time and had the added advantage of having spent several years when he was just a kid in the company of Smoke and the old mountain man called Preacher. Living with those two had been an extensive education in survival.
    Matt lifted a hand to his hat brim in farewell to Macmillan and Houlihan as he turned his horse. Brenham fell in alongside him as they rode toward the valley floor. Live oaks grew thickly around them, mixed with post oaks that had lost their leaves during the autumn. That brown and tan carpet crackled a little under their horses’ hooves.
    The foliage was so thick it wasn’t long before the two young men were out of sight of the rest of the patrol. Once that happened, they might as well have been the only humans for miles around. This valley was a lonely, desolate place, apparently without even much animal life.
    Matt buttoned up his sheepskin jacket as he rode. The sun didn’t have any warmth down here.
    Brenham asked, “How long you reckon it’s gonna be before we catch up to them renegades, Mr. Jensen?”
    â€œCall me Matt. I’m not an officer.”
    â€œMy name’s Taw, then. It’s a plumb honor to be ridin’ with you. I’ve heard a heap about you and your brother.” Brenham paused. “But about them hostiles . . .”
    â€œI don’t know,” Matt answered honestly. His jaw tightened as he thought about the last ranch they had found in the aftermath of a raid. “They were less than a day ahead of us last time, so there’s a good chance they’re pretty close.”
    â€œI’d give a lot to catch one o’ them varmints over the sights o’ my rifle. I swear, the things they done . . .” Brenham seemed to choke on the words for a moment. “One of the gals at the last place, she reminded me of my own little sister.”
    â€œBest not to think too much about that,” Matt advised, even though he knew that was easier said than done. The things he had seen would continue to haunt him for a long time, too.
    â€œThat Injun Black Moon, he’s supposed to be the ringleader o’ the bunch, ain’t he? Some sort of Comanche war chief?”
    â€œThat’s what the wire that came to