Webb said, “I listened to him, and he scared me.”

“God save us from zealots.” Monahan turned his back on the retreating Dawkins. “He’ll keep. Right now we’ve got company.”

They did not have it for long. Caleb Dawkins’s appearance sapped all the pleasure from the gathering. Conversation was subdued as the people ate. Preacher Webb sensed the crowd’s distraction and trimmed his sermon short. Guests thanked the Monahans for their hospitality and Webb for his message, of which most had probably heard little. They saddled horses and climbed into wagons and buggies, then headed off in several directions.

“I’m sorry, Preacher,” Monahan apologized. “Everything kind of went to hell after the colonel got here.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“He’s been itchin’ for a killin’ ever since he came into this country. Everybody knows he’s a little crazy.”

“That makes him all the more dangerous.”

Rusty asked, “Who is he, and how come you-all call him colonel?”

Monahan said, “He was one once, in the war against Mexico. Hung a couple of men for cowardice because they retreated without orders when the Mexicans was fixin’ to overrun them. Got cashiered out of the army. He never could see where he’d done anything wrong. He’s hated the federal government ever since.”

Rusty saw worry in Geneva Monahan’s eyes, and for the first time he was certain of their color: blue, like his own. He felt an urge to put a protective arm around her, but he did not know just what he could protect her from or how he would do it.

Clemmie jerked her head to beckon her daughters. “Come on, Geneva, you and the other girls. We’ve got some cleanin’ up to do.”

Lon Monahan looked glumly toward the last departing guests, three hundred yards down the wagon road. He said to his sons, “We’d best be gettin’ the stock fed. The horses probably think we’ve forgotten them.”

James grumbled, “I still say we could’ve whipped them. I was cocked and primed to do it.”

Lon replied, “You’re too eager to fight, son. Time you’ve been in as many scraps as me and your granddaddy and the preacher, you won’t be so anxious for another one.”

Rusty and Webb trailed behind, prepared to help. Rusty said, “If I was Lon Monahan, I’d never be more than a step away from a gun. Dawkins sounds a lot like Isaac York, and everybody knows what Isaac did to Daddy Mike.”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“I’m as certain as if I’d been there and seen it. And one of these days he’ll pay.”

“Vengeance is best left to the Lord.”

“When the day comes, I’ll give the Lord some help.”