Rusty shook his head. “Seems like it doesn’t do much good to blame anybody. It’s a mess, and we have to live with it the best we can. Mind if I water my stock at your creek?”

“The creek ain’t mine, just the land that runs up to it. If you and your animals drink it all up, them fellers downstream will just have to take care of theirselves.” The farmer had recovered from his momentary fright, though Rusty suspected it would take longer to get over the tobacco he had swallowed.

“I’m on my way up to Fort Belknap. I’ve been through here before, but I’m a little hazy about the distance.”

The farmer studied the horse and mule, satisfying himself of their soundness. “You’ll make it in another day easy enough. Less if you lope up a little. What kind of business draws you to Belknap?”

“I’m reportin’ for duty there.”

The farmer’s eyebrows went up. “You look kind of young to be one of them minuteman rangers.”

“Captain Blessing thinks I’m old enough.”

“You’re liable to age in a hurry. Some hard old boys hang around in the brush outside of Fort Belknap. They don’t take kindly to the law messin’ with their business.”

“What kind of business?”

“Some peddle whiskey up north of the Red River, on the Indian reservation. Others go up there and steal Indian horses. When the Indians get mad enough or drunk enough to start raisin’ hell, it’s always somebody innocent that gets hurt. They don’t try to find the ones that’s actually caused their trouble. Anybody white will do.”

Rusty decided the farmer was not going to invite him to break bread with him or to spend the night. It was early in the afternoon anyway. He could make several more miles before time to camp.

The farmer said, “I don’t ordinarily give advice where it ain’t been asked for, but you look like some mother’s nice young son. If I was you I wouldn’t advertise too high about bein’ a ranger. Some of them rough boys might decide to leave you layin’ out on the prairie and pretend like the Indians done it.”

“Once I join the company I’m assigned to, there won’t be any secret about who I am.”

“Rangers up in this country generally travel in packs, or at least in pairs so one can watch the front while the other watches the rear. Indians ain’t the only danger around here, not by a long ways. You heard about agent Neighbors gettin’ murdered in Belknap? Just because he tried to help the reserve Indians.”

Rusty had heard. He had also heard that the ranger company caught the murderer and made short work of him. “I suppose some of those rough boys pass this way from time to time?”