Ames glared at Pete. “A rebel hangman. He has that much more to answer for.”

“You sure you’re strong enough to keep ridin’?”

“I’m strong enough. Two Johnny Reb bullets didn’t kill me at Chicamauga. I’ll survive one from a bushwhacking horse thief.”

The lieutenant pulled in beside Andy as Rusty climbed back onto Alamo. “I’ve forgotten what he said your name is, young fellow.”

The youngster gave Rusty a querulous look. “Andy”

Rusty feared Andy’s halting use of the language would give him away, but the boy said nothing more.

The sergeant poked his rifle in Pete’s direction. “Move out, you back-shooter.”

Pete growled, “I don’t take bossin’ from no nigger.”

The lieutenant snapped, “Then you’ll take it from me. Move out, like he says, or I’ll shoot you myself.”

Scully was usually a follower, but he started first.

Pete said defiantly, “You ain’t hanged me yet. My old daddy’s got influence. Ain’t no jury around here will ever convict me for killin’ a nigger.”

The lieutenant said, “It won’t be a local jury. You killed a soldier, so you will be tried by a military court.”

Clearly, Pete had not considered that possibility. He looked as if the officer had struck him with a club. Scully slumped lower in his saddle.

Rusty felt a glow of satisfaction. “Pete’s not worth the price of the rope that hangs him. But I’d be glad to make the investment.”

“The government will provide the rope.”

“I haven’t seen many soldiers yet, but they tell me you-all are spreadin’ out across the state.”

“As rapidly as we can. It’s our job to begin the Reconstruction of this country and to keep the peace no matter how many we have to shoot.”

Rusty nodded in the direction of the sergeant. “Are all your soldiers black?”

“A lot of them.”

“Then peace may not be easily kept. Black soldiers will be like a red flag to some folks.”

“I’m afraid that’s the idea, though I am not proud of it. The powers that be are determined to humiliate the defeated rebels. One way is to place former slaves in a position of authority over them.”

“They’ll get a bunch of soldiers killed.”

“The shameful part is that the officials don’t care. No price is too high, so long as someone else has to pay it.”

“You know who’ll pay the most. The blacks.”

“Yes, just as they carried the burden of slavery.”

The Monahan farm broke into view. Pete Dawkins became agitated. “You ain’t goin’ to let them Monahans at me, are you? They’re crazy. . . James and that hateful old woman. They’d kill me and not bat an eyelash.”

Preacher Webb’s face reddened. “You’ll not speak ill of Clemmie Monahan in my presence.”

“Put a curse on me, why don’t you?”

“I am a minister. I do not practice witchcraft. Any curse that’s on you, you’ve put it there yourself.”

With a lifetime of help from Colonel Caleb Dawkins, Rusty thought. The lieutenant said, “No one is going to kill you, Dawkins, not until the duly appointed time. Then it will be the army’s responsibility.”