The truth was that he and Scully would have been prisoners had they not become soldiers. Pete’s hardheaded old daddy had been responsible for that. All on account of a few horses. Hell, the old man had lost more to colic than Pete and Scully had taken. He would probably have considered them stolen by the Indians and have forgotten them had it not been for the nosy damned rangers and that army horse buyer in cahoots with them. What was his name? Blessing, that was it. Tom Blessing. And the rangers. One of them he had encountered before and had gotten to know better than he wanted to. Rusty, they called him. Shannon, that was the last name. Rusty Shannon. He did not know the ranger captain’s name, but he would remember that face and that bushy mustache if he lived to be a hundred.

If it hadn’t been for them he wouldn’t be here. He would still be in Texas, raiding the reservation north of the Red River for Indian horses and making himself wealthy enough that someday he could snap his fingers in Old Colonel’s face and tell him where he could go.

And what in the hell was he still doing here anyway? Word had come days ago that the war was over. What was the use in having an army if there was no longer any war to fight? But the officers were waiting for specific orders from higher authorities. They had not allowed any soldiers to leave.

Scully stared at him from the other side of the small fire. “You tryin’ to poke them coals to death? You look like you’re fixin’ to cloud up and rain pure vinegar.”

“Just thinkin’.”

“They can court-martial a soldier for thinkin’. You’re supposed to leave the thinkin’ to them and do what they tell you to.”

“Right now they’re thinkin’ I’m goin’ to stay here and act like a good soldier, but they’re mistaken. I’m fixin’ to up and leave this outfit. I’m goin’ back to Texas.”

“They shoot deserters.”

“That was when there was still fightin’ goin’ on. They got no reason to keep me now, and no reason to hunt for me if I’m not here when they call the roll in the mornin’.”

Scully looked around furtively to be sure no one was listening. “Would you take me with you?”

Pete hesitated in answering. He felt he could make better time alone, looking out for no one except himself. On the other hand, Scully had always been useful so long as he had Pete around to do most of the thinking for him. If anything, he was a better hand than Pete when it came to handling horses. It was as if his mind were on about the same plane of intelligence as theirs.