“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.”

Rusty realized James had no intention of bringing Pete back alive. He looked for Bailey’s reaction.

The sergeant said, “He’s goin’ to die anyway. Why not save the army some money?”

Rusty led the way out. The tracks were easy to follow, for Pete had made no apparent effort to hide them. They indicated that his and Scully’s horses had run hard for the first mile or so, then slowed. The course was due north.

“Headin’ for the Red River the quickest way they can,” Rusty speculated.

James nodded. “Probably think they’ll be safe when they get to the Nations. But they’ve stolen a way too many Indian horses. If any of them so-called friendlies recognize them, their lives won’t be worth a Confederate dollar.”

They came at length upon a crippled horse, standing with its head down. It turned away, trying to move on three legs.

Grimly James said, “Pete and Scully must be ridin’ double. They’re as good as dead now.” He rode over for a closer look at the lame horse. He drew his pistol to shoot it but changed his mind. “I don’t think its leg is broke. Just taken a bad sprain.”

Rusty removed the saddle and bridle, dropping them to the ground so the horse could move unencumbered.