James said, “Fine. Just go on around, then. Way around.”

“Well now, we’d do that, but we’d feel ashamed because we had throwed such a scare into a set of pilgrims without cause. We’d feel like you thought we was outlaws of some kind, and maybe give others a bad report about us on down the trail. We couldn’t just leave here with such a misunderstandin’ hangin’ in the air.”

Frank muttered, “They’re out to rob us, James. You can see it written all over his face. He’s playin’ with us, tryin’ to set us off of our guard. Let’s just back off into the timber and let them have what they want, except they can’t have us.”

“I can shoot him right where that beard stops.”

“You ever shot a man?”

“No. He’d be my first.”

“And your last. Them others’d be on us in a second. Let’s just get the women and young’uns back into the timber.”

“You do it. I ain’t lettin’ them have our wagons.”

Frank was angry. James had not often seen him that way. “Damn it, James, listen to somebody, will you?”

James was listening to something else, a horse coming in a run behind them. In dismay he said, “They’ve sent somebody to go around us.” He wanted to kick himself for not being more alert to such a move. Michael would not have made such a mistake.

He glanced back over his shoulder and saw a dun horse. He knew the rider. For a moment he wondered if Sly Shipman might be in league with these renegades, that he might purposely have sent these wagons south into a trap.

Shipman slowed his dun horse to a walk. He carried a long rifle across his saddle. He gave the Lewises a quick glance, then turned his attention to the horsemen, especially the dark-bearded one who had moved forward. “Well now,” he said, “good evenin’, friends. I hope I have interrupted somethin’ here that looks like it could cause considerable grief.”

The tall, bearded man said, “If you’re part of this bunch, I wisht you’d tell them to put their rifles away. I never was partial to havin’ a rifle pointed at my brisket. Makes me all-fired nervous.”

Shipman said, “But I believe you can see how a bunch of you bustin’ in here like this would make these people nervous, too. Was I you, I’d just ride on around and forget whatever it was you had in mind.”

The tall man squinted. Gone was any false friendliness. “And just who might you be, a-givin’ out advice so free?”

“I’m Sly Shipman.”

The man blinked in surprise at the name, but suspicion quickly crept back into his eyes. “Anybody could say they’re Sly Shipman.”

“Who else besides the real one would want to claim such a thing?”

“You got a point there,” the man conceded.

A young horseman called out, “He’s Shipman all right, Clem. I’ve seen him before.”

Clem seemed to wilt a little. He gave the wagons a long, disappointed study. “And I suppose these people are with you?”