Rusty’s leg burned as if he were standing too close to a fire, but he had no choice except to bear it. He feared it might collapse when he dismounted and stood on it.

He saw a lamp burning in a back room he assumed was the kitchen.

Purdy said, “He’s probably havin’ his breakfast.”

“Maybe I can bring him out without stirrin’ up a fuss. You stay here and hold the horses.”

“You’re liable to need my help.”

More likely, Rusty thought, he would get the old man hurt. The Monahan family had suffered enough already. “You just keep the horses ready. We’ll put Dawkins up in your saddle, and you can ride behind me.”

Rusty eased down from Alamo and tried his weight. The weak leg held, though it trembled a little. He drew his pistol and limped up the two steps to the back door. Just as he started to open it he heard a shout of surprise and an angry voice.

Damn it, James has gotten here ahead of us.

He pushed on the door and found himself in the kitchen. Caleb Dawkins sat at a table, a plate of eggs and ham in front of him, a half-eaten biscuit in his raised right hand. James Monahan stood facing him, holding a rifle. For a man looking death in the eyes, Dawkins seemed amazingly calm.

Not only does he have no heart, he has no fear, Rusty thought. He was at a loss to understand such a man.

He shouted, “James, don’t do it!”

James involuntarily swung the rifle toward Rusty, his eyes widening in surprise. Dawkins took the momentary distraction as an opportunity to jump to his feet, knocking the chair backward to clatter against the floor. Instantly James moved the muzzle back to cover him. His eyes seemed afire.

“Don’t you move, Colonel.”

Rusty saw that Dawkins had no weapon, at least none within reach. He would not have expected trouble at his breakfast table.

For the first time Rusty noticed a gray-haired black woman standing in the doorway to the next room, a cloth draped over one arm, her eyes and mouth wide open. She wheeled and bolted out of sight. A door slammed, and he could hear her excited voice as she went running across the yard.

Rusty said, “Let’s get out of here, James. It won’t bring your daddy and brother back, killin’ Isaac York.”

“York?” James puzzled. Rusty realized he had spoken the wrong name. James said, “It won’t bring them back, but at least I can make Dawkins pay.”

Rusty heard shouting out in the yard. The slave woman had roused the farm help.

Dawkins said, “You hear that, Monahan? My boys’ll be here in a minute.”

“There’s still time for what I came to do.”

Anyone else would show mortal fear. Dawkins showed nothing. “If you shoot me, my boys won’t let you get away. Pull that trigger and you’re a dead man.”

James said, “No. You are.”