Andy waited until the lieutenant and the two troopers were out of hearing. He whispered, “Those soldiers, they Shanty kin?”

Rusty realized the boy had seen few if any blacks. “I’d hardly think so.”

“Same tribe, look like.”

All the way up from Rusty’s farm, Geneva had weighed heavily upon his mind. She had carried him to the extremes of high anticipation, then of dread. Hearing about her husband’s injury had only complicated his feelings. He wondered how well she was coping with what must seem an overabundance of bad luck.

He hoped his own hurt had healed enough that he could look at her without falling a part inside.

Andy was being stoic, but Rusty could see in his weary eyes that his leg pained him, that only willpower kept him in the saddle.

The lieutenant said, “I’ve been trying to draw your boy into conversation. He doesn’t talk much, does he?”

“The trip’s worn him out. He needs a few days of rest before he goes on.”

“Goes on to where?”

“Back to his folks.” Rusty hoped Ames would be satisfied enough to stop asking questions. He seemed to be, for he fell quiet. He looked even wearier than Andy. The wound in his shoulder was wearing him down.

Vince Purdy, the grandfather, was the first person Rusty saw. Working in the garden, he paused and leaned on his hoe, staring at the incoming riders. Rusty’s attention went to Josie Monahan, picking tomatoes and holding them in her apron. She hurried to the new log house.

“Mama! We got company comin’!” She emptied the tomatoes into a basket on the dog run, then turned to watch the visitors’ approach. “I see Preacher Webb. And Rusty Shannon. Looks like soldiers with them.”

Clemmie Monahan stepped out past the dog run, shading her eyes with one hand. She beamed at sight of the minister and gave Rusty a tentative nod. The smile died as she recognized the two prisoners. Reining Alamo to a stop, Rusty heard her declare, “They’ll not bring Pete Dawkins into this house!”

Webb dismounted and embraced her. “Pete’s a prisoner. He can’t hurt anybody.”

“But I may hurt him. Put him in the barn out yonder, or the shed. Even the root cellar. But not in this house where I’ve got to look at him.”

The lieutenant gave her a weak salute. “We’ll not trouble you with him more than we have to, ma’am. We’ll keep him out of your sight.”

Clemmie stepped into the yard. Her agitation over Pete turned to solicitude for Ames. “You’re hurt. Come on into the house and we’ll see what we can do for you.”

“I’m obliged, ma’am, but first I have to see to my men, and to my prisoners.”

Rusty climbed down. “I’ll help your troopers, Lieutenant. You go with Clemmie . . . Miz Monahan.”

Clemmie put her arms around Webb again. “It’s good to see you, Warren. Come on in. Josie, go unsaddle Warren’s horse for him.”