Tanner sat on his bedroll and tugged at his bootstraps until his feet found bottom. “You’ll not likely kill anybody up here unless it’s Indians, and probably not even them. I’ll bet I’ve been up and down that line a hundred times, and damned few trips did I see as much as a feather.”

“That’s all right with me. I’ve got no grudge against any of them except maybe the Comanches.”

“I heard what you told Captain Burmeister about them stealin’ you when you was little. You’d be a Comanche yourself today if somebody hadn’t rescued you. A redheaded Comanche. Now wouldn’t that be a sight to behold?”

Burmeister’s long-ago service as a soldier made him try to maintain some semblance of military order in the ranger company, though Rusty quickly saw that the men did not consider themselves soldiers. They submitted to morning formation and roll call, but their notion of standing at attention was decidedly informal. Some chewed and spat tobacco. A couple smoked black and odorous cigars. Company sergeant Whitfield, chunkily built but muscular as a blacksmith, impatiently read the roll as if he considered it a waste of time better spent on more fruitful activity. Some of the men talked among themselves or looked at the sky as if appraising the chance for rain or snow. The roll call was indeed unnecessary except as a faint stab at military routine because the sergeant and the captain both knew who was here and who was out on the line.

The sergeant said, “All present and accounted for except one, Dutch.” He frowned as if he had bitten into a sour apple. “Private Haskins is absent without leave again. But I already told you that.” Whitfield’s tobacco-stained moustache, heavy and unkempt, lifted and fell with each word he spoke. It was in sharp contrast to the captain’s moustache, neatly trimmed, its ends upturned.

Burmeister shrugged. “How long must it be before he learns he cannot dry up Fort Belknap? Always, freight wagons bring fresh whiskey. And where does he get the money to buy?”

“There’s people in town who buy it for him. I think they get him drunk so he’ll tell them what we’re doin’ out here and what we’re fixin’ to do. There’s many that don’t want rangers interferin’ in their business.”

“Detail someone to bring him. Handcuff him to a tree until the whiskey has gone from him.”

“Was it left to me, I’d give him a lick or two with a quirt and send him packin’.”

“Sober, he is a good man.”

“Drunk, he’s useless to himself and to this company. But you’re the captain, Dutch. If you want to keep him on the payroll, that’s your business.”

“On the payroll? I think you make the joke. How long is it since we have been paid?”