"Then why did you come hither?"
Travis shrugged. "Why does anyone ride or travel into new lands? There is a desire to see what may lie beyond——"
"Or to scout before the march of warriors!" Menlik snapped. "There is no peace between your rulers and mine. Do you ride now to take the herds and pastures of the Horde—or to try to do so?"
Travis turned his head deliberately from side to side, allowing them all to witness his slow and openly contemptuous appraisal of their camp.
"This is your Horde, Shaman? Fifteen warriors? Much has changed since the days of Temujin, has it not?"
"What do you know of Temujin—you, who are a man of no ancestors, out of the West?"
"What do I know of Temujin? That he was a leader of warriors and became Genghis Khan, the great lord of the East. But the Apaches had their warlords also, rider of barren lands. And I am of those who raided over two nations when Victorio and Cochise scattered their enemies as a man scatters a handful of dust in the wind."
"You talk bold, Apache...." There was a hint of threat in that.
"I speak as any warrior, Shaman. Or are you so used to talking with spirits instead of men that you do not realize that?"
He might have been alienating the shaman by such a sharp reply, but Travis thought he judged the temper of these people. To face them boldly was the only way to impress them. They would not treat with an inferior, and he was already at a disadvantage coming on foot, without any backing in force, into a territory held by horsemen who were suspicious and jealous of their recently acquired freedom. His only chance was to establish himself as an equal and then try to convince them that Apache and Tatar-Mongol had a common cause against the Reds who controlled the settlement on the northern plains.