Whitfield’s eyes were troubled. “Boys, I’ve been brought some bad news.”

Tanner asked, “We’ve lost the war?”

“Not yet, though it looks like the end is upon us, praise the Lord. Reason I’ve called you together is to tell you the conscription officers are on their way again.”

Rusty saw nothing new in that. Conscription officers had come several times before, trying to persuade younger rangers to resign from frontier duty and join the Confederate Army. They usually left with a recruit or two.

Whitfield said, “The war has taken a bad turn, so they’re grabbin’ everybody they can get. Frontier service won’t keep them from takin’ you now if you’re halfways young and not too crippled to walk or ride a horse.” His gaze fastened on Rusty. “I know some of you never did have strong feelin’s for the Richmond government.”

Whitfield had read Rusty’s mind a long time ago.

The captain said, “The position I’m in, I can’t be givin’ you advice. Anybody wants to leave before the conscript officers get here, I ain’t stoppin’ him. Just don’t take any horse that don’t belong to you.” He stood a moment to let the message soak in, then strode back to his tent.

A tingle ran up Rusty’s back. He listened to a rising buzz of conversation around him.

A young ranger said, “If they want me that bad, I reckon I’ll go. War ought not to last much longer anyway.”

Another responded, “They’ll have to chase me plumb to Mexico.”

Rusty listened to the two men argue, but they were no help to him in making up his mind. He walked to Whitfield’s tent and found the captain sitting at a table, where a Bible lay open. In violation of standing orders, Whitfield was pouring whiskey from a bottle into a streaked glass. He looked up.

“Have a drink, Shannon?”

“No, thank you, Captain. I want to keep my mind clear.”

“Mine is too damned clear already. I don’t understand what Richmond is thinkin’ of. There’s women and children dyin’ out here because they ain’t left enough fightin’ men to protect them. Now they want to take even more for a war they’re fixin’ to lose anyway.”

“Those people back in Richmond never saw a Comanche. They don’t realize the problem.”

“The Book tells about times of tribulation. Lord help us, we’re damned sure livin’ in one.” Whitfield took the contents of the glass in one swallow.

“Captain, I need to tell you . . .”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me a thing. What I don’t know, I can’t answer for. Just do whatever you feel is right and don’t allow anybody else to sway your judgment.”

Rusty rarely let anyone do that. “If the conscription officers find most of the company gone, they’re liable to bear down hard on you.”

Whitfield snorted. “What can they do? I’m too old to be sent to the army. They can’t fine me because I’m as broke as the rest of you. I doubt they’d shoot me. So what’s left except to send me home? I’m ready to shuck it all and go back to the farm anyhow.”