“I didn’t get paid for most of my ranger service either. They sent us a little flour and salt and sometimes coffee. They allowed us a place to roll out our beddin’. That was about all.”

“I hope you’re not sorry I got you into it in the first place.”

“No. If I’d stayed here I’d have most likely shot Isaac York, thinkin’ he killed Daddy Mike. I always felt like I was doin’ somethin’ useful, bein’ a ranger. I’ll miss it.”

Blessing turned wistful. “Once the Federals have been here long enough to see how bad we need the rangers, maybe they’ll organize them again.”

“If they do, I’ll be ready.”

“You’ve barely got home and you’re already talkin’ about leavin’ again. Rangerin’ can be a hard life, even harder than farmin’.”

“How long can a man stare at a mule’s hind end before he starts gettin’ a little crazy?”

CHAPTER

SEVEN

Approaching home, Rusty saw Vince Purdy and Oscar Pickett with a mule in the cornfield. Tanner and the two Monahan girls were hoeing weeds at opposite ends of the garden. Tanner turned away, but not before Rusty saw a bruise on his cheek and a darkening around one eye. He asked Josie, “What happened to Len?”

She and her younger sister exchanged quick looks. “He stumbled and hit himself in the face with the hoe handle.”

The younger girl giggled.

Rusty thought two and two stopped short of being four. He led Alamo to where Tanner worked. He waited for Tanner to volunteer an explanation, but none came. Rusty had to ask him.

Tanner reluctantly admitted, “I tried to kiss that Josie. You know she’s got a fist like a mule’s left hind foot?”

Rusty could imagine Clemmie chasing Fowler Gaskin, swinging a singletree at his head. “She’s her mother’s daughter.”

“All that time in the rangers, I thought we were protectin’ helpless womenfolks. I pity the poor Indian that runs afoul of the Monahan girls.”

Rusty returned to where the two girls stood watching. “Len tells me it wasn’t a hoe handle that bruised his face.”

Josie blushed. “He kissed me without even askin’.”

Rusty smiled at her embarrassment. “I’ll remember that if I ever feel like kissin’ you.”

Her eyes sparkled. “The difference is, you won’t need to ask me.”

Rusty rode Alamo to the barn. He noticed a strange horse in the pen. He tied his own horse to the fence and walked toward the cabin. Clemmie was sharing a bench with a man on the open dog run. Recognition brought Rusty a surge of joy.

“Preacher Webb!” He rushed to offer his hand. Webb had been like a foster father to him, second after Daddy Mike.