“Wasn’t money that I came for.”

“For what did you come?”

The primary reason was that Tom Blessing had told him to, but he doubted that was what Burmeister would want to hear. “Duty. Daddy Mike always preached that we owe it to our neighbors to serve wherever we can.”

“A wise man, your father. I hope he taught you well in other things.”

“He taught me to plow a straight furrow. He taught me to hit what I aim at.”

“Did he teach you to know what you should aim at and what you should not?”

Rusty frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Never mind. When it is important, I think you will know.”

Burmeister queried Rusty at length about the horse thieves he had encountered and jotted a few notes in a small book. Rusty doubted that he had told enough to be useful.

Burmeister frowned. “If you see some of them again, it would surprise me none. There are in this vicinity those who have little regard for property other than their own.”

As the captain moved away, the lanky Tanner edged closer, observing Rusty’s saddle and other accoutrements. Rusty thought about counting the freckles on the ranger’s face but decided that would take until dark, even if Tanner held still.

Tanner said, “You ain’t long off of the farm.”

“How can you tell?”

“Your hands are set in the shape of a plow handle, and ain’t nobody but a dry-dirt farmer would be ridin’ a saddle as old as that.”

Rusty felt defensive. “It keeps me on the horse.”

“What you want to do is catch you a lawbreaker that’s got a good saddle. Shoot him and confiscate the saddle as contraband. If a man is a sure-enough shot, he can put a good outfit together in almost no time atall.”

Rusty was momentarily taken aback until a twinkle in Tanner’s eyes told him the ranger was trying to run a sandy on a newcomer.

Tanner said, “That’s how I got my saddle. Only it turned out he was innocent. The joke was on me.”

“I’ll bet you both got a laugh out of it.”

Tanner grinned. “You’ve got to kill a high class of criminal to get ahead. Poor folks never carry anything worth confiscatin’.”

He pointed to a nearby tent, the canvas old and badly stained. Rusty suspected it leaked like fishing net, should rain ever chance to fall.

Tanner offered, “I’ll help you carry your stuff.”

There was not much of it, but Rusty accepted the offer, grateful for the welcoming manner. “What all does the company do?”