The Indian was not ready to be finished. He rose up on shaky legs and fired a rifle. Billings’s horse plunged headlong to the ground. Billings lay pinned, a leg caught beneath the struggling animal. Pressing one bloody hand against a wound in his side, the Indian limped toward him. He held a knife.

Billings cried out for help.

Rusty finished reloading, then remounted and put the dun horse into a run. The Comanche saw him coming and moved faster. Billings’s voice lifted almost to a scream. “For God’s sake, somebody!”

Rusty knew a running shot was chancy, but if not stopped the warrior would reach the lieutenant ahead of him. He brought the stock to his shoulder and braced the heavy rifle with his left hand. The recoil almost unseated him. The powder smoke burned in his nostrils.

The Indian fell, then started crawling. Billings struggled but still could not free himself.

Rusty slid his horse to a stop, dropped the reins, and swung the rifle with both hands. He felt the Indian’s skull break under the impact of the heavy barrel. His stomach turned.

Billing’s face glistened with sweat, his eyes wide. “Oh God! Are you sure he’s dead?”

“Dead enough.” Rusty knew the disgust was palpable in his voice, but he did not care. He dismounted, fighting an urge to club Billings as he had clubbed the Indian. “Instead of goin’ after one of your own, you came runnin’ to try and finish mine when he was already down. I ought to’ve let him gut you.”

A quick look around assured him that no other danger was imminent. The war party had broken up. Warriors were fleeing in several directions, most pursued by rangers.

A single rider approached. Fearing he might be Comanche, Rusty hurried to reload his rifle. He was relieved to recognize Sergeant Forrest.

Billings’s fright gave way to impatience. “You just goin’ to stand there? Get this horse off of me.”

Rusty glared at him. “You brought this on yourself. I wanted to keep that warrior alive.”

“What for? There’s still plenty of Indians. I’m ordering you, Shannon, get me out of this fix.”

“Order away, damn you. I’m not in the army yet.”

He tugged halfheartedly, in no real hurry. The horse’s dead weight barely budged.

Billings’s voice went shrill again. “Put some muscle into it. You want those savages to come back and catch me helpless?”

Rusty saw merit in that proposition. “That’d suit me, except they’d catch me, too. I turned my horse loose to save your ungrateful neck.” True, he had let go of the reins, but the dun horse had stopped a hundred feet away. The excitement over, the animal was beginning to graze. Rusty saw no reason to point out that he would be easy to catch. He watched Forrest’s approach.

“Maybe me and the sergeant together can get you loose.”