Andy muttered under his breath, then realized he had been talking Comanche to himself. He understood Rusty’s reason for wanting to keep Clyde Oldham alive, but he could not help thinking that the community would be better off without either the Oldhams or Farley Brackett.

The courthouse was new, built of stone, with a cupola and a parapet. The old frame building had served well, but the local reconstruction government had decided that its dignity demanded something better, no matter the cost. The taxpayers were mostly rebels anyway.

Rusty reined up at the low rail fence that surrounded the courthouse square. His horse was lathered and breathing hard. Andy pulled in beside him and tied Long Red to a post. He said, “Maybe you’d better let me go talk to the Oldhams, if I can find them in there. Goin’ by what they did last night, they may shoot you and then ask what you want.”

“No, I want to try and make a bargain with Clyde.”

Andy shrugged and followed Rusty up the steps. He had never been inside the new courthouse. Once through the door, he had no idea where the state police office might be. But Rusty knew. He led off down a corridor, Andy on his heels.

Andy remembered the captain from the night before. The officer looked up. He recognized Andy, but he did not seem to know Rusty.

Rusty said, “I’m lookin’ for the Oldham brothers.”

The captain studied him a moment. “I released them from the service this morning. They are no responsibility of mine.”

“But where are they at?”

The captain’s eyes narrowed. “Are you some kin of the Bracketts?”

“No, I’m Rusty Shannon. But if I don’t find the Oldhams pretty quick, they’re fixin’ to meet up with a member of the Brackett family.”

That got the captain’s attention. “You mean Farley?”

“Yes, and if he gets to them first Jeremiah won’t be the only man needs buryin’.”

The captain said, “The Oldhams were in a surly mood when they left here. I would guess they have gone to one of the liquor establishments around the square to soak their anger in whiskey. What is your interest in them?”

“Clyde Oldham owes me a farm.”

“I know about that. And you wish him to remain alive until you get it back?”

“That’d be long enough.”

The officer reached for his pistol and belt, hanging on a hat rack beside the door. “I’ll take the north side of the square. You take the south. But stand clear if Farley Brackett shows up. He belongs to me.”

Rusty and Andy stepped out into the hallway. Rusty stopped so abruptly that Andy bumped into him. A sturdy man with a thick gray mustache came out of an office on the other side. Rusty exclaimed, “Captain Burmeister!”

“Private Shannon. And Andy.” The old ranger limped across the hall, his hand outstretched.