Pete backed off, bumping into Scully. His fear gave way to frustration as he retreated. It had not occurred to him that other men in the camp were considering desertion, just as he was, and that they had caused a stiffening of the guard detail.

Scully whispered, “What’ll we do now?”

“We’ll walk. Sooner or later we’ll find somebody careless with his horses.”

He found the road that led west. Anger made his stride long and purposeful. His mind went back to the black day that the rangers had caught him and Scully with stolen horses. He wished he had Rusty Shannon here right now. He would gladly beat him within an inch of his life, then shoot him in the belly. Maybe someday.

CHAPTER

SIX

Rusty felt as if a mule had kicked him in the belly. He sank into the nearest chair. “Geneva’s married?”

Clemmie sensed the depth of Rusty’s shock. Her voice was sympathetic. “A man named Evan Gifford. She said she wrote and told you.”

“I never got the letter.”

She pulled a chair up nearby and faced him, taking one of his hands. “I wish I’d known. I’d’ve found an easier way to tell you.”

“There isn’t any easy way.” He could not meet her gaze. He looked down at the rough floor. He lost his voice for a minute. He swallowed hard to get it back. “I hope he’s a good man.”

“You can take comfort in that. He is.”

Both girls spoke at the same time. “He sure is,” they agreed. Rusty got the impression that either would have been happy to have married him.

Too bad one of them hadn’t.

Clemmie said, “Evan took a Union bullet in his chest. They sent him home to die, only when he got there he found he didn’t have a home anymore. He showed up here with one foot in the grave. We cared for him the best we knew how.”

“Sounds like you done right good.” For the moment, he wished they had not.

“When he was able, he commenced helpin’ around the place. That corn and that feed you see growin’ out yonder, he done a big part of the plantin’, along with Daddy Vince. Branded your calves for you, too.”

Rusty turned so they could not see the anguish in his face. His long-nourished dreams were slipping away from him. He was powerless to grab them and bring them back. He looked through the open door. “I see Vince out yonder, ridin’ a mule in from the field.”

“It’s early for him to be quittin’. Probably saw you-all and thought he’d better come to the house. Visitors mean trouble, oftener than not.”

One in particular, he thought, by the name of Evan Gifford. “You-all’ve had trouble?”