“We’re tryin’ to protect you from yourself, and maybe from some others. There was hard feelin’ against Mike. Some of that feelin’ is bound to be laid over onto you. It’s best for you and everybody else if you’re not seen around here ‘til this secession business quiets down.”

Rusty could not take his gaze away from York. Shanty stepped protectively in front of his owner.

Reluctantly Rusty shrugged. “All right, I’ll go. Do I get my pistol back?”

A flicker of a smile crossed Webb’s face. “I’ll ride along part of the way with you and give your pistol back when I feel like it’s safe.”

“Isaac York won’t be safe ‘til he’s dead.”

CHAPTER

SEVEN

Paper was scarce, so Tom Blessing sketched a map on the back of an old order he had received from the governor’s office in Austin during one of his limited terms in volunteer ranger ranks. “You’ll remember the Fort Belknap country from when we went up north to attend the Indian removal. You oughtn’t to have much trouble findin’ the company camp. When Texas secedes, there won’t be anybody but our own volunteers watchin’ the frontier. Just a buckskin line, and a thin one. That’s why they need you up there.”

Rusty studied the map. “There’s several rivers to cross between here and there.”

“You’ll cross a lot more if you stay with the rangers. You just mind what goes on around you and be careful. Some Indian would be tickled to hang your red hair on his lance.”

Preacher Webb handed Rusty a book. “Put this in your saddlebag. It’ll be good readin’ for you of a night.”

Rusty saw what the book was. “I’ll be carryin’ Dad’s old pistol in there. You think it and the Bible fit together?”

“Samson prayed, then slew his enemies with the jawbone of an ass. Lord knows it sometimes takes violence to bring peace.”

Blessing said, “I’ve known many a man who carried a Bible in his pocket and a pistol on his belt. I’d rather ride with that kind than them who just carry the gun.”

Rusty reasoned that it could do him no harm to make room for the book. Whether he read much from it or not was another matter. Though Mother Dora had read from hers every day, it had not saved her from the wasting illness that carried her away. Mike Shannon had been a strong believer, after his fashion, yet a bullet had found his back.

He wanted Preacher Webb to feel contented. With the Shannons gone, the minister was the only real link Rusty had to his past. “Thanks for the book, Preacher. Don’t you reckon it’s time we got started?”

Webb said, “I’m ready.”