He was not, and he knew Josie knew it.

She said, “You just haven’t made up your mind to turn a-loose yet. But you will. And when you do, I’ll be here.”

“You deserve better than to be a substitute for somebody else.”

“I’d settle for that, at first. But I think I could make a man forget he had ever wanted anybody besides me.”

“I doubt I’d be that man.”

“We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

Andy looked from one to the other. It was obvious he had no idea what they were talking about.

The boy was the object of quiet curiosity at the family supper table. It would have been impolite to wear his hat in the house, so the long Comanche-style braids were in plain view. Rusty was not concerned about the Monahans’ acceptance, but he was a little worried about Lieutenant Ames. He was haunted by what Jim Pickard had said about the army perhaps forcing the boy to a reservation or into an institution.

Ames put his fears to rest. “I have seen other white children taken from Indian captivity. He is hardly the first. I assume he is some kin of yours, Shannon?”

“By experience, not by blood. The Comanches took me when I was too little to remember much, but I was freed after a few days. Andy spent better than four years amongst them.”

“So now you are trying to fit him back into white society.”

“No sir. I’m takin’ him back to rejoin the Comanches.” He watched for what he thought was the inevitable adverse reaction. But Ames pondered in silence, his face devoid of expression that might indicate what was in his mind.

Rusty added, “His blood kin rejected him. The Comanches are all the family he’s got. I wish he’d stay with us, but if it can’t be of his own accord maybe he’ll be better off back where he came from.”

“For now, perhaps. But what of the future? The sun is going down on the Indians’ free times. They’re being crowded off of their hunting grounds. They’ll soon be so decimated by war and hunger that they can no longer remain independent. Assuming he is not killed in battle before then, what will become of him?”

“I’ve laid awake at night worryin’ about that.”

“But you are still taking him back?”

“I can’t chain him up. If I don’t take him he’ll run away. If he’s goin’ anyhow, it’s best I travel along and be sure he makes it.”

“You may not get back. What assurance have you that the Indians will not kill you?”

Rusty glanced at the minister. “Preacher Webb has friends in high places.”

“He’s riding with you?”

“No. This is as far as he goes.”

Webb said, “But my prayers will go with him.”

James Monahan had held quiet through the meal, listening, hiding his thoughts behind half-closed eyes. “Prayers are all right, but sometimes an extra gun carries more weight. I’ll go with you if you like, Rusty.”