4The door creaked open and the Captain looked up from the telegram he was reading through for the third time. In front of him, the young Lieutenant saluted, rigid, mechanical, like one of those new-fangled clockwork toys he'd seen for sale in Boston. “At ease, son,” he snapped.
He waved the paper. “This came through from Laramie. Damn territory is alive with marauding Comanch. They're raiding farms and homesteads right down into New Mexico. Seems they don't much like the idea of living in a reservation, so they're doing their damndest to replenish their horse herd and keep themselves on the move. They have been spotted near Saint Angelo. A nearby farmer took the news to Archangel and wired us this.” He slapped the telegram onto his desk.
“I assume you want me to go and find out the truth
