Blessing said, “It’s bad, but it missed the heart. He’ll make it. Guess it sort of makes up for him shootin’ those Indians on the reserve that time. When his time comes to die, it’ll be the whiskey that kills him.”

In a voice so weak as to be almost inaudible, York murmured, “Preacher, pray me through this. I swear I’ll give up drinkin’.”

Webb said, “The Lord expects a man to live up to his promises. Were I you, I wouldn’t go makin’ any I couldn’t keep.”

Rusty said, “Mr. York, I’m sorry.”

York became aware of Rusty’s presence. He struggled to find voice. “Boy, whatever troubles you’ve got with me, they’ll have to wait.”

“I’ve got no trouble with you. I’m sorry I ever did. I just found out what really happened to Daddy Mike.”

The man’s puzzled expression made Rusty realize York did not know. “I found out it was the Gaskin boys shot him.”

York was slow in absorbing the information. It seemed too much to digest at one time in his weakened condition. “I had some differences with your daddy, but not nothin’ I’d kill him for.”

“Maybe someday I’ll learn to be slow about makin’ judgments. Forgive me, Mr. York?”

York began muttering incoherently as shock took hold. Shanty leaned over him again, grasping his hand. “You just take a strong grip, Mr. Isaac. I’m right here.”

Webb and Tom Blessing walked out with Rusty. Blessing said, “Takes a man to admit he’s wrong. Looks to me like you’ve grown up, Rusty.”

“I reckon it was high time.”

Captain Whitfield was assembling the company. Rusty shook the two men’s hands.

Webb said, “You’ve taken a load off of Isaac York. The Lord is smilin’ on you.”

“He must be, because all of a sudden there’s a load gone off of me, too. Come up to Belknap when you can, Preacher. There’s folks up there who could sure stand some gospel-learnin’.”

He mounted Alamo. Preacher Webb asked, “Anything you want me to tell the Monahans?”

Rusty shook his head. “Nope. I’ll be goin’ by and tellin’ them myself.” The rangers were riding away. Rusty spurred to catch up to them, thinking of what-all he wanted to say to Geneva and to the rest of the family.

His shoulder ached, but it was not enough to overcome the warm feeling that arose within.

He had a family now. He was no longer alone.

Buffalo Caller lay on damp ground. Looking up through a haze dense as smoke, he knew he was in the midst of timber along the bank of the river. He had fallen from his horse. His side burned like fire where the bullet had smashed his ribs. Carefully he pressed his hand against the wound. The blood flowed warm and much too freely. He realized his life was draining away. He did not want to die lying on his back. He wanted to push up, to meet death in a sitting position, but he lacked the strength.