“You’re not welcome in this house. We don’t need you here.”

He took off his hat. “You need me more than you know. I suppose they’ve told you?”

“That Caleb Dawkins thinks he’s goin’ to get rid of us? It’ll take some doin’.”

“He can do it. The war hasn’t left enough law around here to stop him. Some of you are liable to get hurt, maybe killed.”

“Maybe it’s Dawkins who’ll get killed.” She threw her thin shoulders back and pointed at the door. “Git out!”

Geneva nodded almost imperceptibly, her eyes telling him this was not the time to argue with Clemmie. Rusty backed to the door, turned and went out onto the porch.

The captain asked with his eyes. Rusty said, “She ain’t in a mood for talkin’. Maybe she’ll see different in the mornin’.”

“We’ll have to leave in the mornin’. Got to see if we can overtake those other men.”

The chance was slim to none, but Rusty understood. “I don’t reckon you could leave Tanner here with me?”

“There aren’t but five of us now. Four with you stayin’ behind. Can’t do it, Shannon.”

They made camp on the south side of the barn, where the walls would protect them from the chilly north wind. Tanner built a small fire and warmed his hands. Whitfield had assigned him the night’s first guard tour. Though their horses were penned, they were vulnerable to theft by either Indians or reckless white men.

Vince Purdy came down from the house, carrying a small cloth sack. “Thought you men might like to make a little coffee before you turn in. Brought some. Can’t brag on it any. It’s mostly parched grain with just enough coffee in it to give a little flavor. There’s a war, you know.”

“We hadn’t noticed,” Tanner said. He accepted the sack, opening it and smelling of the contents. “I wouldn’t trade one cup of good old-time coffee for a gallon jug of whiskey. One of these days when the war is over I’m goin’ to buy me a whole barrel of coffee beans and boil enough to float a boat from here to the river.”

Purdy tried squatting on his heels, but his arthritic knees would not allow it. He sat flat on the ground. Rusty suspected he would need help to get up.

He asked, “You reckon Miz Clemmie will be a little more inclined to listen once she’s slept on the idea?”

Purdy shook his head. “I raised me a real stubborn daughter. I’m afraid the only way to get her off of this place would be to tie her up and drag her away. But she’d turn around and come back if she had to crawl on hands and knees. Too bad James wasn’t a better shot.”

“We’ll all have to keep talkin’ to her.”

“Me and Geneva been talkin’, but Clemmie ain’t listenin’. Looks to me like we’d best do some talkin’ to the Lord.”

Rusty said, “Pray for Him to drop a hailstone on Dawkins, one the size of a washtub.”