“We’re shorthanded. The captain’ll be tickled to see you.”

Maybe not when I tell him everything, Rusty thought.

Captain Whitfield sat at a table, writing. He looked up as Rusty entered the tent. “Shannon. Saw you come in on a wagon. Can’t you ride yet?”

“I can, some. Just can’t overdo it.”

“Then what’re you doin’ here? You could’ve stayed longer where you were at.”

“Felt like I’d better report to you, sir.” Reluctantly Rusty told him everything. He was tempted to leave out the part about taking James prisoner, then losing him, but a deliberate omission would seem the same as an outright lie.

The captain frowned. “So you had him, then lost him.”

“I was hurtin’ so bad I couldn’t see straight. He had my pistol before I knew it.”

“Do you know where he went?”

“The last I saw of him, he was headin’ west. He couldn’t keep up that direction too long, though. He’d be apt to run into Comanches when he got to the plains.”

“Probably dropped south once he felt he was in the clear. There’s a lot of conscript dodgers hidin’ out on the far Colorado and the Brazos and the Conchos. Some of them’ve been slippin’ back into the settlements and stealin’ supplies, takin’ horses and whatever else comes to hand. As bad as the Indians except they haven’t scalped anybody we know of.”

“I don’t see James Monahan bein’ a thief.”

“Just a murderer is all?” Sarcasm coarsened the captain’s voice.

“He felt like he was justified. Caleb Dawkins hung his daddy and his brother.”

“The law would’ve taken care of Colonel Dawkins the first time it could prove somethin’ on him. At least it looks like your James Monahan has saved the state of Texas the cost of that trial, but it’ll still be out the cost of his own.”

“It’ll have to catch him first.”

“It will sooner or later. Or kill him.” He dismissed the subject with a wave of his hand. “It appears to me that you’d best stay around camp until that leg will let you ride the line. You can find plenty to do on foot.”

Rusty was relieved that the captain was not summarily dismissing him. “Yes, sir.” He felt that a salute was in order, but he had never been taught the proper way to give one. He made the effort, knowing it fell short of being soldierly.

Whitfield called to him as he was about to leave the tent. “Shannon, are you sure you didn’t let your guard down on purpose, out of friendship?”

Rusty thought about it. “I don’t think so.” Now that the question had been posed, he could not be sure. Perhaps subconsciously he had wanted James to get away and had provided the opportunity without admitting to himself what he was doing. “I couldn’t swear to it on the Bible.”

“Thanks for an honest answer. Not everybody gives me one.” Whitfield waved him away.

Rusty was troubled a little now that the suspicion had been aroused. After all Mike Shannon had preached to him about duty, it was possible he had compromised himself.