“Damn betcha.”

Webb said dryly, “I think you may have taught him too much already.”

Rusty was able to follow a well-defined wagon trail for better than half the day, but then he had to turn off of it when it shifted due westward. He angled across country, toward the northwest.

Webb rode alongside him, Andy trailing a little ways behind, Indian style. Webb said, “Years ago, the first time you ever rode with the volunteers, we followed Indian raiders along this same route.”

Rusty nodded solemnly. “That’s right. We camped for the night yonder where the trail crosses the creek. But we’re not stoppin’ there this time. I’ve got another place in mind for tonight’s camp.”

Webb’s voice became anxious. “You sure you know what you’re doin’?”

“I’m takin’ a chance. He’s been havin’ trouble rememberin’. This may jog his memory.”

“Some memories are best left buried.”

“Not when you need them to tell you who you are.”

Webb shook his head in doubt.

For a time Rusty feared darkness might catch them before they reached the place he was aiming for, but then he saw the line of small trees and knew he had reached the creek crossing he remembered with such terrible vividness.

Andy had sat slumped in the saddle, looking as if he might even be dozing. Now he sat up straight, looking around with serious interest. “This place. I think I been here.”

He pointed to a tree that apparently had been bent out of shape as a sapling and had grown crookedly into something like a question mark. “That tree. I remember.”

“One tree looks about like another.”

“Not that one.” Badger Boy’s face became increasingly grave. “Bad place.”

“Bad? How so?”

“I don’t know. Feel bad spirits here. Damn bad.”

Preacher Webb frowned. “Fanner’s teachings had left an indelible mark on the boy’s speech.

Rusty said, “We’ll camp here for the night.”

The lad’s eyes looked fearful. “Something happen here. Something bad.”

“Do you remember it?”

Andy shook his head but kept looking around anxiously as if he saw or felt something the men could not.

Webb suggested, “Maybe we ought to move on a little farther.”

Rusty said, “There’s wood here, and water. Been others camped here before.” He helped Andy down from the saddle and handed him a long stick whittled into a rude cane to aid him in walking now that he had left the crutches behind. The boy seemed reluctant to venture out.

He leaned on the cane and kept watching as if he expected something awesome to rush at him out of the trees.

Rusty and Webb took what they needed from the mule’s pack. Webb built a small fire while Rusty led Badger Boy to a small pile of rocks beneath a tree. Rusty’s skin went cold as he remembered. “I came this way once with Preacher and Tom Blessing and a bunch of others, trailin’ a Comanche war party. They had taken a lot of horses. But worse than that, they had stolen a woman and a small boy.”