They stopped at a small seep he remembered from scouting trips long ago. The seep fed a narrow creek, its water trailing for a couple of hundred yards before disappearing into the sand. Along the creek’s short course a thin band of green grass offered grazing for the horses. Rusty and Tanner staked their mounts with long rawhide reatas that gave the animals considerable freedom to move around.

Tanner watched them. “Just like old times. The horses are gettin’ fed better than we are. I can imagine the good supper Clemmie Monahan is servin’ tonight.”

Rusty chewed hard on a salty strip of dried jerky. “Andy may not have even this much to eat.”

“He can get by on lizards and rattlesnakes if he has to. He’s that much Comanche.”

Rusty shuddered at the thought. “If I had any notion where he’s at, any notion at all—”

“You’d go there and lose that red hair before it has a chance to start gettin’ gray”

The only horse tracks he and Tanner had seen all day had been remnants of old ones, headed north. They found no sign of recent Indian incursion. Years ago, under the old loose frontier-ranger organization, the men had scouted along established north-south lines a little beyond the settlements, riding until they met scouts coming from counterpart camps. At that point they turned back and re-rode the same line. The system had worked well so long as the frontier companies had manpower enough. Some Indian raids were broken up before they were well started. The system had become less and less effective as the war drew men away from the frontier and the ranger companies.

Rusty knew Captain Burmeister lacked men enough to make the routine work as well as it once had. Intercepting Indians would be as much a matter of luck—of being at the right place at the right time—as of organization.

Tanner said, “This ought to be the job of the United States Army, but them generals don’t see Indians as a serious problem.”

“They’re mostly stayin’ back in the settled parts of the state where Indians aren’t a problem. They spend most of their time lookin’ for Confederate conspiracies.”

“Well, I’ve learned one thing for damned sure.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t ever lose a war. It don’t pay.”

They were within sight of the camp when one of the scouts rode out to intercept them. His expression indicated that he was not the bearer of good news. He said, “Captain Burmeister wanted me to let you know you’ve got company waitin’ for you.”

Rusty asked, “Who is it?”

“Couple of brothers. I don’t recall the name. The younger one has just got one arm.”