The lanky, freckle-faced Tanner bit the end from a ragged, home-rolled cigar and lifted a tallow candle from the table to light it. His gaze followed Andy Pickard, walking out onto the dog run of Rusty Shannon’s log cabin. He said, “I’d swear that boy’s grown a foot since last I seen him. Next time I look, he’ll be a man.”

Rusty argued, “Look again. He just about is. Anyway, you’ve only been gone a couple of months.”

Tanner had ridden to East Texas to visit his kinfolks, which he regarded as duty more than pleasure. “What you feedin’ him?”

“Same as what I eat, and I ain’t growed a bit. Just get a little older every day.”

“How old is Andy now?”

“Old enough to beat the stuffin’ out of Euclid Summerville, and him a grown man.”

“Grown, maybe, but not much of a man.”

Tanner stretched his long legs out in front of him and leaned back in his wooden chair, which squeaked under the strain. Rusty had braced it with rawhide strips because dryness had loosened its joints. “First time you brought Andy here I didn’t think you could ever make a white boy out of him. But damned if he don’t talk pert near as good as me and you.”

“He reads faster than I do, and writes better, too.”

“That ain’t sayin’ no hell of a lot.” Tanner grinned, enjoying his little joke. Rusty saw no reason to spoil his fun. He knew Tanner did not mean it maliciously.

Having no home of his own and no evident ambition toward acquiring one, Tanner spent much of his time with Rusty and Andy. He came and went as the whim struck him. He helped with the farm and the cattle enough to earn his keep. He was a good hand when he wanted to be, but he never put his heart into work with plow and cow as he had done while serving as a ranger.

Tanner said, “Wish I’d seen the fight. Looks like there’ll always be some Comanche in him.”

“I’d like to have a Yankee dollar for every scrap those braids have got him into. Reminds me some of Daddy Mike. He was bad about fightin’, too.”

“Mike finally got killed.”

Rusty sobered. “Yes, he did.”

He contemplated that possibility for Andy but rejected the notion. He could not allow such a thing to happen, not so long as he had breath in his body.

Andy came back into the room, visibly disturbed. “Rusty, come look. Somethin’s happened to the moon.”

“How could anything happen to the moon?”

Andy’s voice quavered. “Looks like it’s burnin’ up. Come see.”

Rusty and Tanner exchanged dubious glances, but both arose from their chairs and followed Andy outside. Andy pointed upward. His voice was shaky. “There. See?”