“Josie, I don’t want you takin’ too much for granted. I like you, but anything past that. . .”

“Past that . . . who knows? After all, we do have a few days.”

Clemmie and Preacher Webb walked out. Clemmie raised a lighted lantern to give her daughter a moment’s anxious study. “Is everything all right out here?”

“It’s all right, Mama. I didn’t mean to break up everybody’s supper.”

“Most people eat more than is good for them anyway.” Clemmie swung the lantern. “Come on, Warren, I want you to take a look at that new colt.”

Rusty and Josie watched them walk past the shed and out to the barn. The lantern light disappeared.

Josie asked, “When a preacher gets married, can he just do the marryin’ himself, or has he got to find him another preacher?”

“I don’t know. Guess I never thought about it.”

“Been a Methodist minister by here a couple of times lately. I have a feelin’ Mama and Preacher Webb will be needin’ him. I reckon a sprinklin’ preacher can tie the knot as tight as a deep-water preacher, don’t you?”

“I suppose it’s mainly up to the couple how strong the knot is.”

“When I get married, that knot’ll be so strong that wild horses couldn’t pull it apart.”

Rusty bedded down in the barn, along with Andy, Preacher Webb, and Lieutenant Ames. He was awakened in the night by Andy shaking his shoulder. Andy whispered, “Something wrong.”

Rusty pushed up onto his elbow, peering into the darkness and seeing nothing. “What?”

“Don’t know. Spirits, maybe.”

“Spirits! More likely you heard an owl hoot.”

He had noticed that owls made Andy nervous. Comanches were wary of them.

He heard horses running. The sound came from beyond the corrals. He flung his blanket aside and pushed to his feet. His first thought was an Indian raid.

Ames awakened. “What’s the matter?”

Rusty hurried to the barn door to look outside. He saw nothing amiss, but he was fully alarmed.

He saw a dark figure lurch from the shed and fall to his knees, moaning. Rusty ran to him. Sergeant Bailey rasped, “Tell Lieutenant Ames. Them prisoners have got away!”

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

Exploring with his fingers, Rusty found the point of a nail protruding through the post to which Pete Dawkins had been tied. Webb’s lighted lantern revealed frayed fragments of rope indicating that Pete had rubbed his bonds against the nail until he had worried his way through them and freed his hands.

Sergeant Bailey’s head was bloody. He told the lieutenant, “Private Cotter was on guard. Must be he went to sleep, or maybe Dawkins was just too sneaky for him. Busted him over the head with that shovel yonder. Then he busted me before I could get my rifle.”