York shot him.

One of the women turned back and hurried to the fallen man. She knelt at his side, then pushed to her feet and rushed at York, screaming at him and shaking her fists.

He shot her, too.

By then the rest of the Texans arrived. Blessing shouted in a rage, “Goddamn you, Isaac York, put up that pistol!”

York said, “I ain’t through yet. There’s still more of them.”

Mike Shannon drew the old pistol he had brought home from the Mexican War. “Put it away, or ’y God I’ll shoot you!”

York gave Mike a look of pure hatred. “They’re gettin’ away. I saw a boy amongst them young’uns.”

Blessing said, “I saw him, too. He was an Indian boy. Put up the gun, Isaac.”

York resisted. He looked down at the dead man. “There’s one good Comanche. He’ll never kill another white woman or steal a white boy.”

Mike said, “These’re not Comanches. Take another look.”

York shrugged, unmoved. “Makes no difference. They’re Indians. One or another, they’re all alike.” He started to ride after the others.

To Rusty’s surprise, Mike Shannon spurred up beside York and pulled him from his horse. The two men landed together in the grass and began to fight. Blessing stepped in to separate them. “That’s enough. Both of you, back away.”

Shanty placed himself protectively in front of York. York was shaking and shouting incoherently. Rusty quickly dismounted and gripped Mike’s arms. “No more, Dad. It’s over with.”

Preacher Webb stood between the dead man and the wounded woman. He removed his hat and began a prayer in a voice almost too low for Rusty to hear. “Lord God, forgive us all.”

Blessing’s face was scarlet. Rusty thought he looked as if he were about to go into a spasm. “Isaac, there’s no tellin’ how much trouble you may have got us into. Bad enough killin’ the old man, but shootin’ a woman, too?”

York trembled in the aftermath of rage. “They killed a white woman. I hope this one dies. She won’t be birthin’ no more babies to grow up and kill white folks.”

Blessing saw the futility of argument with York. “If the troops heard the shots they’ll be comin’ to see what happened. We’d better put the reservation behind us as quick as we can.” He waved his hand and set off southward in the lead, putting his horse into a long trot.

When the Texans departed, the other woman and the children emerged from the timber and set in to wailing. Rusty felt a chill.

Darkness lingered in his foster father’s face. Mike Shannon said, “Young’un, we did accomplish somethin’ after all. We killed a defenseless old man and maybe a woman. Ain’t that somethin’ for a ranger to be proud of?”

As Mike and Rusty turned off toward the farm, leaving the rest of the volunteers, Tom Blessing said, “You-all consider yourselves still sworn in. If things go the way they’re pointed right now, I’ll be needin’ you.”