Most of this second day Tanner had said so little that Rusty had begun to be concerned about him. Ordinarily Tanner seldom gave his jaw much rest. If a bird flew in front of him he would speculate for half an hour on what kind it was, what it ate, and what its mating habits were.

Rusty asked him, “You feelin’ all right?”

“Nothin’ wrong with me. It’s you I been worried about.”

“Why me?”

“Because you ain’t said nothin’ about Andy. Yesterday and today I ain’t heard you mention his name.”

“What can I say that I haven’t already said? God only knows where he is or what he’s doin’.” Rusty bit down on the words and did not finish speaking all of his thought. If he’s not been killed already . . .

Tanner said, “After we catch up to these runners, maybe me and you ought to take leave and go huntin’ him.”

“You have any idea how much country we might have to cover? We could ride ‘til our whiskers got tangled in our stirrups and still never find him.”

Rusty wished Tanner would drop the subject.

But Tanner ahvays had another word, or several. “Better than waitin’, wonderin’. Think about it anyway.”

Rusty had been thinking about it. He simply saw no solution. The two of them, searching aimlessly across an impossibly broad, open land neither of them knew . . . If the Indians didn’t get them, hunger and thirst would.

Tanner went into another long, unaccustomed silence. He broke it suddenly. “Looky yonder.” He pulled on his reins. “Way up there. Is that buffalo, or is it horses?”

Rusty squinted against the sun’s glare on the waving brown grass. “Looks to me like two horses. Can’t tell whether they’re comin’ or goin’.”

Tanner studied them a minute. “I believe they’re comin’ this way. Must be Indians.”

“Or a couple of those whiskey runners comin’ back.” Rusty pulled his horse around. “We better tell the captain.”

Burmeister had halted his detail and was waiting. Rusty told him, “We see two horseback riders comin’ this way. Our guess is that they’re Indians.”

“Two of them only?”

“They could be scoutin’ for a larger bunch.”

Rusty could see momentary conflict in Burmeister’s eyes. This mission had been intended to overtake whiskey runners, but stopping incursion by Indian raiders was of greater importance. Burmeister pointed to a shallow ravine carved by runoff water after rare hard rains. “We hide. We wait.”

The men followed him.

Rusty and Tanner crawled up over the edge and lay on their bellies so they could see. Rusty caught an occasional glimpse of the riders as they came over a rise, then lost them as they dropped to lower ground. “Still comin’ toward us,” he said.

Tanner nodded. “Sure look like Indians to me. A little one and a big one.” He brought up his rifle but did not aim.

Rusty said, “Let’s not be quick to shoot. If they’re scoutin’, there’s no tellin’ how far out front they are and how big of a bunch may be followin’ after them.”