Pete cursed. “You damned black crow, you’re cuttin’ off my blood.”

“Be glad I ain’t cuttin’ off nothin’ else. I am sore tempted.”

Rusty had to walk by the old log house to get to the newer one where most of the family lived. Andy limped along beside him. Geneva stood in the open dog run. Rusty stopped in mid-stride, looking at her. All the old pain returned for a moment, all the burning inside. He touched his fingers to the brim of his hat. “Howdy, Geneva. You’re lookin’ real fine.”

She really did, he thought. He was not just paying an empty compliment. She said, “You brought in Pete Dawkins.”

“The soldiers brought him in. Preacher and Andy and me, we just came with the soldiers.”

“I hope they had to shoot him a little, the way he shot Evan.”

“I’m afraid they didn’t, but the army’ll give him what he’s got comin’.”

“Rusty, I’d like you to see my baby.”

“I was on my way up to the house.” He did not really want to see the baby right now. It would remind him too much of old plans and dreams gone irretrievably astray. But he could not refuse her. “Just for a minute.” He nodded for Andy to follow him.

Evan Gifford lay on a bed, his legs covered by a blanket. His arm was heavily bandaged. Geneva said, “Look who just came, Evan.”

Gifford extended his good hand. “I heard you brought in Pete Dawkins.”

Rusty accepted the handshake. “The soldiers did. I had nothin’ to do with catchin’ him.”

“I was lookin’ him square in the eye when he did this to me.” Gifford lifted the wounded arm an inch. “Another second and I’d’ve shot him instead of him shootin’ me. But at least we gave him a good scrap, and we didn’t let him get our horses.”

Rusty remembered his earlier favorable judgment of Evan Gifford. Geneva had married a fighter.

Damn it, he thought, why can’t I find something to hate about him?

Gifford asked, “Seen our baby yet?”

“Geneva was fixin’ to show me.”

The baby lay in a small handmade wooden crib. Geneva beamed as she lifted a corner of a blanket to reveal the tiny reddish face. “Ever see a prettier one in your life?”

“I can’t say as I’ve seen that many.”

Andy said nothing but observed the baby with curiosity.

Geneva said, “I think he’s got Evan’s face. Some of the family say he has my eyes. What do you think?”

“I’d have to study him awhile.”

The baby’s blue eyes were open but did not seem to be focused on anything in particular. Geneva kissed its tiny forehead. “It’s about time for feedin’. I’d invite you to stay, Rusty, but it’s not exactly a public event.”