Tom tied a last knot on the ropes securing Luke to a tree. "That ought to hold you." He took a bandana out of his pocket. Mark had been watching in silence but now he came forward.

"I'll do that."

"Suit yourself." Tom handed over the bandana.

Mark knelt next to Luke and gagged him, then said fiercely, "Nothing's gonna happen to you. We just got some business tomorrow and then you and me'll be going our separate ways." He pulled on the ropes. "Do you understand? Just go home and leave me alone." Luke's shoulders slumped and he nodded, watching helplessly as Mark strode away.

The boy returned to the camp with Tom and sat down by the fire, staring into the flames. White picked up the coffee pot. "I thought you were going to get water."

"What?" Mark looked up, then got to his feet. "Mr White, let's get something settled. My father is out of the way now, and I want him left alone. He won't make trouble for us once we're done."

"So you say!" scoffed Tom. "It'd be better to put a bullet in his head right now so we know we don't got to worry about him."

"I don't want his blood on me," said Mark coldly. "And he ain't gonna want my blood on him. If he makes trouble for any of us, it would come back on me. He'd never take that chance, Mr White."

"All right, Mark," said White. "Go get the water." He watched as the boy left the camp.

"Well?" asked Tom.

"Tom Sullivan, you're a fool," said White shortly. "There's no more reason to kill McCain than the soldiers. They'll all be afoot while we're riding hard for Mexico. If it makes you feel better, we can tie them all up with McCain and they can get each other loose."

"I like that idea, Mr White," Jake put in. "I don't want no killing if we don't have to."

"You're a couple of lily-livered…" Tom started.

"Shut up!" White's voice turned venomous. "Maybe we should put a bullet in your head. You're starting to worry me, Tom. You drink too much and you're too quick on the draw. Either we do things my way or you're out. All the way out. Do you take my meaning?"

"All right," said Tom sullenly, "but after this job I'm moving on. You two are getting too soft for me."

"That's fine with me." White looked over as Mark came back into the camp. "Son, you don't have to fret. Nobody's going to do anything to your father."

The boy looked from Tom's dour face to Jake's less clouded expression and White's encouraging smile. "I appreciate that. I know my father. He'll leave you alone long as I'm all right."

White took the coffee pot. "Good enough."

They made an early start the next morning, watching from the rocks until they saw the Army transport. It was a small but strongly built wagon with a large steel box like a prison transport and when they spotted it, Mark checked the gun White had given him, then ran out and lay down in the middle of the road, his heart pounding.

The wagon pulled up and the driver got down and hurried to Mark, turning him over. The boy put the gun in his face. "Don't put your hands up. Just act like you're checking to see where I'm hurt."

The soldier froze and they both listened to the angry voices from the transport, then Luke called, "All right, son! We got them!"

Mark grinned and bounced to his feet, running over to his father and grabbing him in a bear hug. "Pa, I like to died last night when they brought you in the camp."

"I thought I was going to die." Luke held his boy tightly. "You did a fine job, Mark."

Micah and Nils stood back, observing with satisfaction as Alvin White, Jake Clinton, and Tom Sullivan watched with varying degrees of confusion and hostility. Tom spat, "You dirty double-crosser! When I get out…"

The captain of the soldiers backhanded him. "When you get out you'll be too old to think of anything more than sitting in the sun."

The driver who had gotten down to check on Mark came over. "Sir, I don't understand what's going on here." The other soldiers were murmuring as they surrounded the robbers.

The captain went up to Luke. "Would you have any objection to explaining what this is about?"

"I'll be glad to, Captain…"

"Anderson."

"Captain Anderson, I'm Lucas McCain." Luke gestured. "My son Mark. Micah Torrance, our town marshal. Nils Swenson. Our blacksmith but it's not the first time he's been deputized."

Anderson shook hands with everyone. "I'm pleased to meet all of you." He looked around at his men. "Well, tie them up!" He watched with satisfaction as the three robbers were herded over to the wagon and tied to a wheel. "Now, Mr McCain, I think we'll have that story. All I know is that I was supposed to deliver a payroll."

"Well, it was this way…" Luke began.