“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.”

“If it comes to usin’ guns, a dozen of us wouldn’t be enough. No, it’s best it be just me and Andy. When I’ve taken him far enough that I’m sure he can finish the trip alone, I’ll turn back.”

Josie raised a hand to her mouth. “But you’ll be all alone out in Indian country.”

“When I was a ranger I spent a lot of time in Indian country.”

“At least you had a badge then.”

“I never did. There weren’t enough to go around. The best I ever had was a piece of paper. Badge or paper, neither one meant a thing to the Comanches. It still wouldn’t.”

Josie arose and quickly left the room, holding a handkerchief to her eyes as she stepped out onto the dog run. Clemmie pushed away from the table, intending to follow. Preacher Webb touched her hand, stopping her. “Clemmie, I think someone else should go and talk to her.” He looked at Rusty.

Rusty remained seated for a moment, trying to decide what he could say. He still did not know as he walked out where she stood. “Josie . . .”

She looked away from him. “I didn’t go to act like a baby. It usually takes a lot to make me cry.”

“I know, but you’re borrowin’ trouble that may not ever happen. Chances are I’ll never see an Indian. I’ll take Andy across the river. From there he ought to have no trouble finishin’ the trip alone. I should be back in three or four days.”

“When do you plan to leave?”

“Andy’s worn out. That leg is troublin’ him. He needs a few days’ rest before we start.”

“A few days.” She squeezed the handkerchief. “That’s better than no days at-all.”