Rusty said, “No, but I could get one or two. Why don’t you come up front, F’owler, where I can see you better?”

Gaskin did not budge from his position in the rear.

The leader said, “I still don’t believe you’d shoot a white man.”

From out in the moonlight Rusty saw two dark shapes rise up as if from the ground. He turned quickly, thinking someone had circled around him.

He heard the click of a hammer. A shotgun blasted, loud as a cannon in the night. The leader’s horse jerked back and twisted around, tumbling its rider. The sack came off of the man’s head. Rusty recognized the younger Brackett scrambling to get to his feet.

Gaskin shouted, “It’s that crazy Indian kid. Look out, he’ll kill somebody!”

Rusty realized that Andy had followed him but had remained hidden. The other figure had to be Len Tanner.

Tanner shouted, “I got me a rifle here, too.”

Farley Brackett turned angrily toward the men behind him. “Gaskin, this ain’t like you said. Wasn’t supposed to be nobody here but that nigger.”

Gaskin argued, “How’d I know Shannon’d show up, him and them others? I ain’t responsible for that.”

Brackett said, “No use cryin’ after the milk’s been spilt. Thisil keep for another day . . . or another night.”

After one lie, the next came even easier for Rusty. “I know who most of you are. Anything happens here, I’ll know where to go lookin’.”

Brackett reined his horse around. “So will we, Shannon. If them Yankee soldiers hear about this, we’ll know who to blame.”

Rusty had no intention of getting mixed up with Yankee soldiers, but he chose not to say so. Let these yahoos worry about it, he thought.

The riders retreated, the sound of hoofbeats diminishing as they disappeared into darkness. The dog trailed after them, barking them on their way, as self-important as if he had routed them single-handedly.

Rusty turned as Andy walked up to him. His voice wras sharp. “Boy, you could’ve got yourself killed.”

“Not by them. They’re cowards.”

“That’s the most dangerous kind there is. Cowards take every advantage they can. What possessed you to trail after me?”

“You acted like you were afraid for Shanty. I figured I could help.” Rusty glared at Tanner. “Thought I told you to keep him at home.”

“Andy’s got too much Indian in him. When he makes up his mind to do somethin’, all hell can’t prize him loose. Wasn’t nothin’ I could do but come along and try to keep him from gettin’ hurt.”

Shanty came walking up. He had put on trousers, but he was barefoot. He held a shotgun.

Surprised, Rusty asked, “What were you goin’ to do with that thing?” He had never seen or heard of Shanty picking up a firearm except to kill something for the cooking pot.