“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.”

He waited, watching for a reaction. He was not sure he saw one. He said, “They killed the woman here. This is where we found her, and where we buried her. We never found any sign of the boy.”

Andy remained silent. Rusty was not sure he understood until the youngster asked, “That boy . . . him me?”

“Yes.”

“How come I no remember?”

“You were young. And maybe you tried hard not to remember.”

Andy seated himself on the ground, favoring the weak leg. He sat staring at the unmarked grave. He said nothing. Rusty waited for him to react, to speak, but no words came.

Eventually Webb called, “Coffee’s ready if you are.”

Looking back over his shoulder, Rusty walked to the fire and poured coffee from a blackened can into a tin cup.

Webb asked, “He remember anything?”

“Can’t tell. It’s like he’s in a trance or somethin’. Indians have got a way of sensin’ things they can’t see. He may have gotten that from them.”

Rusty’s cup was half empty when he heard something, a sort of low whine, then a wail. He turned quickly to see the boy bent over, face in his arms, his body trembling. Rusty dropped the cup and hurried to him.

Andy cried out in anguish. “Mama! Mama!” He wept bitterly.

Rusty knelt and put an arm around him. “It’s all right, Andy. It was a long time ago.”

Preacher Webb tried to squat down on the boy’s other side, but his knees were too stiff. He remained standing.

Rusty said, “Seems like he finally remembered.”

“A boy so young couldn’t stand lookin’ into hell. He put up a high wall to shut it out. Now you’ve made him see over that wall.”