“But what about me?”

“What about you? I’m sick of your bitchin’ and complainin’. I ought to’ve left you behind a long time ago.”

Scully’s voice was near the breaking point. “What’ll I do?”

“You’ll walk like hell if you know what’s good for you. Run, if you can. Or find you a hole somewhere and pull it in after you.” He reined Scully’s horse around and started north.

For a while he could hear Scully’s voice, pleading, as Scully tried to run after him. He put the horse into a lope and soon outdistanced his partner. When he finally looked back he saw Scully sitting on the ground, a picture of despair.

Rusty did not know what to expect as he rode in to the Dawkins place. Several of the colonel’s field hands were gathered in front of the big house. They seemed heavily burdened. Rusty nodded at James and the sergeant and rode up to the group. He expected hostility but saw no evidence of it. The men appeared saddened.

He said, “We’re lookin’ for Pete Dawkins. You-all seen him pass this way?”

One man took a step forward. Rusty had encountered him before, though he could not remember his name. The black man said, “He done come and gone. Him and that Scully. Caught fresh horses and left yonderway.” He indicated to the north.

“How long ago?”

The man looked at his companions and shrugged. “A right smart of a while. Ain’t got no watch.”

“Didn’t say where he was headed?”

“Didn’t say nothin’ much to any of us. Might’ve said somethin’ to the colonel. I wouldn’t know.”

“Maybe we’d better go talk to the colonel.”

“I’m afraid you’re too late. Ain’t nobody goin’ to talk to the colonel, not ever again. He’s dead.”

A cold chill ran through Rusty. “Pete killed him?” He found that hard to believe, even for Pete.

“No sir. But Pete knocked him down. Colonel never got up. Had him a heart seizure after Pete left. Wasn’t nothin’ I could do for him. He was gone before I could even finish sayin’ the Lord’s Prayer.”

Rusty looked at James. In view of the long enmity, and the fact that Dawkins had hanged his father and brother, Rusty expected James to be glad. Instead, he seemed regretful.

James said, “I’ve thought of a hundred ways for the old devil to die and wished for every one of them. But this way never crossed my mind.”

Sergeant Bailey had not spoken. Beyond the little conversation he might have overheard, he knew nothing about the violent history between the Dawkins family and the Monahans. He said, “We’re settin’ here. He’s travelin’.”

James’s voice was bitter. “He’d better travel. Just one good shot at him, that’s all I ask for. Just one good shot.”

Rusty said, “We need to bring him in alive.”

“We didn’t promise that. You told the lieutenant we’d bring him back either in the saddle or tied across it. If I can get just one good shot, he’ll be across it.”