The lieutenant demanded, “When did you say that last patrol is due in?”

“They should’ve been here already.”

“Good. We want to start back toward Austin as soon as possible.”

“Can’t you wait ‘I’ll we see about those Indians?”

“War does not await the convenience of anyone. We have no time for running after a bunch of bow-and-arrow savages.”

Rusty felt compelled to retort, “You would if they raided your place and killed some of your family.”

Billings demanded, “What’s your name, ranger?”

Rusty drew himself up army-straight. “David Shannon. Folks that know me call me Rusty.”

“Well, David Shannon, I don’t for a minute believe you were scouting out there by yourself. I believe you were running away to avoid conscription.”

Rusty did not meet the lieutenant’s eyes. He had never considered himself a convincing liar, though he had known many occasions when a lie acceptably told was far preferable to the truth. “Captain Whitfield knows. He’s the only man I report to.”

“You’ll be reporting to me as soon as we start back to Austin. Don’t you forget that.”

Rusty knew he had been trapped the minute he rode into camp. He unsaddled Alamo and began working off his frustration by vigorously brushing the sweaty black hide where the saddle had been. The lieutenant started back toward the headquarters tent, his stride victorious. The sergeant called after him, “We’re a long ways from Austin and farther yet from Richmond. A day or two oughtn’t to make much difference.”

Billings faced back around. “Need I remind you, Sergeant, that I am in charge here?”

“I never forget that. I was just thinkin’…”

“You are not here to think. You are here to obey orders.”

“I don’t question your authority. I just meant to remind you . . .” He stopped in the middle of the sentence.

Billings and a reluctant Captain Whitfield returned to the captain’s tent. Sergeant Forrest stayed behind. He asked Rusty, “Are you sure you could take us back where you saw the Indians?”

“I could, but they wouldn’t be there anymore. I figure they’re headin’ off yonder”—he pointed to the southeast—”where the settlements are thicker.”

“If we angled across, shouldn’t we run into them, or at least come upon their tracks?”

“You’re forgettin’ the lieutenant’s orders.”

“I never forget orders. But sometimes I ignore them when I see a good reason.”

“You don’t seem to have much fear for authority.”

“It was family connections that won the lieutenant his commission. I got these stripes on the battlefield. And this wooden leg besides. After all that, there’s damned little that son of a bitch can do to scare me.” He walked toward the tent.

Rusty decided he was going to like the sergeant after all. As for Billings, he remembered that Daddy Mike came home from the Mexican War with a jaundiced view of lieutenants.

Rusty discovered Len Tanner silently watching him. Tanner said, “Accordin’ to the sergeant, Billings has never seen war against the Yankees. Never even been out of Texas.” He waited for Rusty to comment, but Rusty had nothing to say. Tanner added, “How come men that never went to war theirselves are so anxious to send other men there?”