The bay labored for breath, sweat lathering its hide. Andy thought the horse might go to its knees when its rider brought it to a stop. The man slipped from the saddle and almost went down from fatigue. Andy judged him to be about Rusty’s age, though his eyes were hard in a way that Rusty’s never were. A scar cut through the whiskers on one side of his face, all the way up to the corner of an eye. Andy guessed he had probably earned it in a fight. It was a scar a Comanche warrior would envy.

The visitor paid no attention to Shanty. He acted as if the black man were invisible. Laboring for breath, he said, “This is Shannon’s place, ain’t it?”

Andy said, “Yep, but he ain’t here.”

Looking closer, he realized he had seen this man the night the riders had come to challenge Shanty. He remembered the scar. Rusty had said his name was Farley Brackett. Andy immediately felt a rising antagonism.

Brackett said, “I don’t need Shannon noway. I just need one of his horses.” He looked at Andy’s. “That one will do.”

Andy took a tight grip on the reins. “Not this one. I can see how you’ve treated yours.”

“Couldn’t help it. I’ve got Federal soldiers comin’ behind me. And the state police.”

“Anyway, I been ridin’ mine, and he’s tired. He wouldn’t carry you far.” Shanty lifted his hat to arm’s length, shading his eyes. “I don’t see nobody back there.”

The fugitive seemed irritated that Shanty made so bold as to speak to him. “They’re comin’, and they’re hell-bent to stretch my neck.”

Though Andy had seen little of the state police, they had been the topic of much conversation. Most people seemed to regard them more as an oppressive arm of the Federal military than as an independent law-enforcement body like the old-time rangers had been.

Shanty said, “Even if you was to have a fresh horse, you look mighty tuckered yourself. Best you lay low and let them go on by.”

The man acted as if he had not heard. He was probably not used to listening to black people’s opinions. Andy didn’t like the man, but he figured anyone who had aroused the state police and the Federal troops must have redeeming qualities.

He pondered the advisability of the question, then asked, “You kill somebody?”

“Best you-all don’t know what I done. Just give me a fresh horse.”

Shanty said, “I seen a blue roan down on the river awhile ago. Ought to be easy caught.”

Brackett looked to Andy for confirmation, not trusting Shanty. Andy said, “I don’t know what Rusty would say.”

Brackett declared, “It don’t matter what he says. I need me a horse.” He looked back for evidence of pursuit. “Them Yankees will ask if you’ve seen me.”