“I’ve known a couple of boys the Indians taken and kept for years. Never could purge all the coyote out of them. They was like a broke horse that has to pitch once in a while no matter how long he’s been rode.”

“Nothin’ comes easy if it’s worth anything.”

“Just so you don’t expect too much. You’re dealin’ with damaged goods.” The hunter started to tip the whiskey jug, then remembered his manners and offered it to Rusty. “You’ll probably need a lot of this before you get that boy raised. You got a woman?”

“I’m not married.”

“Too bad. Sometimes a woman’s influence can help in tamin’ a wild one. Got any prospects?”

“The one I wanted married somebody else.”

When Rusty and Andy had finished supper, the hunter said, “You-all are welcome to spend the night. Just one thing. . . are them Comanches huntin’ for this boy?”

“There’s a chance a few still are.” Rusty sensed what was on the man’s mind. Andy’s being here might put the camp in jeopardy. “Maybe it’s best we move on a little farther.”

“No, you-all stay. We’ll double up the guard. If there’s any Indians prowlin’ about they’re apt to give us a try whether the boy is here or not. We won’t let him fall back into their hands.”

Rusty warmed with gratitude. These men were strangers, yet they were offering an orphan boy their protection. “I’m much obliged.”

The hunter shrugged. “We’ve got the Federals comin’ at us from one side and Indians from another. And scallywags that dodged the fightin’, pushin’ and shovin’ now to get onto the Union tit. Us old Texas rebels have got to stick together.”

Rusty had never considered himself a rebel. On the contrary, he had harbored a quiet loyalty to the Union all through the war, though it would have been dangerous to make an open display of that loyalty. Hundreds who did so had died at the hands of Confederate zealots. He saw no point in mentioning this now that the war was over. They were all considered Americans again, though many had lost their basic legal rights of citizenship, including the vote.

He said, “I’ll stand my share of the guard.”

“Figured that. I wouldn’t expect no less out of a ranger.” The hunter grunted. “You reckon we’ll ever get the rangers back again?”

“Not anytime soon. The Federals have a hard opinion of anything they think smells Confederate. They bristle up at the thought of Texans ridin’ in bunches and packin’ firearms.”

The night passed without incident. Rusty and Andy ate breakfast with the hunters. As Rusty saddled his horse, the leader jerked his head, summoning him to one side.