Dawkins seemed vindicated by the rejection. “I told my son you would give him no satisfaction. You so-called lawmen helped the federals protect Washington’s pets while they were on the Brazos reserve, and you have no stomach for facing them now.”

Burmeister’s ire began to rise. “Always the rangers are in the middle. The settlers said it was the Indians we protected. The federals said we were with the settlers against the Indians. You are free to complain to Austin or to the federal authorities. I stand not in your way.”

“I will not talk to any federals, and I can see I’m wasting my time talking to you. You’re a foreigner anyhow.”

“How long is it you have been in Texas, Colonel Dawkins?”

“Twelve years. I’m proud to say I came from Mississippi.”

“More than twenty years I have been here. So who is the foreigner?”

“At least I can speak proper English. There’ll be changes after the election. When Texas is free of the Yankee yoke, you and your whole damned command will have questions to answer. I suspect it is infested with unionists.”

Burmeister took an angry step toward Dawkins, then stopped, his feet planted apart in a challenging stance. “We have no more to say, Colonel. You are free to go.”

“Hell yes, I’m free, and I intend to stay that way. I don’t have to ask your permission to come or to go. But you’ll wish you’d never seen me.”

“That is my wish already.”

Dawkins made a point of being slow to turn away, as if allowing the full weight of his disdain to settle upon Burmeister and the men around him. Pete remained beside him, and the young point rider was quick to follow, as if afraid Rusty might be about to turn the rangers loose on him.

Rusty wondered why he hadn’t. It would have been easy to have pointed a finger. His hunch was that Dawkins did not know what his son had been up to. It would have shut him up in a hurry if Rusty had told. But Rusty had been dissuaded by the desperation in the young point rider’s eyes. He remembered that the thief could easily have killed him but had not.

We’re even now, he thought. Next time I catch you in the wrong, I don’t owe you a thing.

Tanner stood slouched and looking like a scarecrow with hands in his pockets, his ragged buckskin jacket open and flapping in the wind. He said, “That Dawkins is a peculiar son of a bitch, ain’t he?”

When the riders had pulled away, Burmeister faced Rusty. “I believe among those men were the very thieves the Tonkawas chased. Did you not recognize them?”