“We’ll soon have reinforcements from Jaca! Fifty men or more.” There was neither doubt nor fear in his voice, despite the despair they’d all seen last night on Frenchie’s face. “As soon as they arrive, we’ll go head-to-head with Vidal.” Ferreira had seen this before: the enthusiasm a new day could bring after even the darkest night. Sometimes it was strong enough to last, but most times it died by dusk. Ferreira himself had not yet recovered from taking Frenchie’s leg. All that pain, the despair of the wounded man and his comrades, his own helplessness . . . “Head-to-head and then what?” he
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