There was an invigorating crispness in the air, and the dun gelding theKentuckian rode savored the breeze as a desert dweller savors water. Drewwas indulgent with his mount's skittishness as they pounded along at thetail of the horse herd bound for Tubacca.
From a rocky point well before them there was a flash of light. Jared Nye,on Drew's left, took off his hat and waved a wide-armed signal to answerGreyfeather's mirror. Two of the Pimas were scouting ahead on this two-daydrive, and the Anglo riders were keeping the herd to a trot. Apaches,Kitchell, even _bandidos_ from over the border, could be sniffing aboutthe Range, eyeing its riches, ready to pick up anything left unprotected.The men rode with their rifles free of the boot, fastened by a loop ofrawhide to the saddle horn, the old Texas precaution which allowed forinstant action. And at each halt the six-shooter Colts' loading waschecked.
Nye swerved, sending a lagger on with a sharp crack of quirt in the air.He pulled up to match Drew's sobered trot.
"That's the last bad stretch; now it'll be downhill an' green fields allth' way." Nye nodded at the narrow opening between two hills lying ahead."Glad to get this band in on all four legs an' runnin' easy."
"You expected trouble?"
"Kid, in this here country you don't expect nothin' else but. Last time webrought hosses up th' trail they jumped us four, five miles back--rightclose to where we saw that pile of bones this mornin'. 'Fore he knew whathit us Jim Berry was face down an' never got up again. An' th' Old Mantook him a crease 'crost th' ribs that made him bleed like a stuck pig.Got him patched up an' into town; then he keeled over when he tried to gitdown off his hoss an' was in bed a week."
"Apaches?"
"Naw, we figured it was Kitchell. Couldn't prove it though, an' after thatth' Old Man made a rule we take Pimas every drive. Ain't nothin' able tosurprise them. I never had no use for Injuns, but these here are peacefulcusses--iffen they don't smell an Apache. With them ridin' point we're sureslidin' th' groove. Me, I'll be glad to hit town. I'd shore like to keepth' barkeep busier than a beaver buildin' hisself a new dam. Though withth' Old Man off reppin' for th' law down along the border and needin'hands back on the Range, we swallows down th' dust nice an' easy an' takesit slow. Anyway, this far from payday I kin count up mosta m' roll withouttakin' it outta m' pocket."
"This Kitchell...think it's true that some of the ranchers are reallyhelpin' him?"
"Don't know. Might be he's tryin' to play th' deuce against th' wholedeck. Lessen he lives on th' kind of whisky as would make a rabbit up an'spit in a grizzly's eye hole, he's got somethin'--or someone--to back him.Me...were th' Old Man poundin' th' hills flat lookin' for me, I'd crawlth' nearest bronc an' make myself as scarce as a snake's two ears." Nyeshrugged. "Kitchell's got some powerful reason for squattin' out in th'brush playin' cat-eyed with most of th' territory. Maybe so there're someas will sit in on his side, but they've sure got their jaws in a sling an'ain't bawlin' about it none. 'Course lotsa people were red-hot Rebs backin '61 till they saw as how white men fightin' each other jus' naturallygave th' Apaches an' some of th' border riffraff idears 'bout takin' over.But mosta us now ain't wavin' no flag. Iffen Kitchell has got him somediehards backin' him--" Nye shrugged again. "Git 'long there, youknock-kneed, goat-headed wagon-loafer!" He pushed on to haze anotherslacker.
They were dusty and dry when they dropped the corral gate in place andwatched the horses mill around. Drew headed for Kells' stable. Shadownickered a greeting and turned around as if to purposefully edge herdaughter forward for his inspection.
"Pretty, ma'am," he told her. "Very pretty. She's goin' to be as fine alady as her ma--I'm willin' to swear to that."
The filly lipped Drew's fingers experimentally and then snorted and did afrisky little dance with her tiny hoofs rustling in the straw. Kells hadbeen as good as his promise, Drew noted. Mother and child had had expertattention, and Shadow's coat had been groomed to a glossy silk; her blackmane and tail were rippling satin ribbons.
"Gonna take 'em back to th' Range with you, Mister Kirby?" Callie camedown from the loft.
"Yes. I'll need a cart and driver though. We'll have to give the foal alift. Know anyone for hire, Callie?"
"I'll ask around. Have any trouble comin' up?"
"No. Greyfeather and Runnin' Fox were scoutin' for us."
"Stage was jumped yesterday on th' Sonora road," Callie volunteered. "Onemen got him a bullet in th' shoulder, but they got away clean. It wasKitchell, th' driver thought. Captain Bayliss took out a patrol rightaway. You plannin' on goin' back with Kitchell out?"
"Don't know," Drew replied absently. Better leave that decision to Nye; heknew the country and the situation. "You ask about the cart, Callie, butdon't make it definite. Have to see how things turn out."
Drew started for the Four Jacks to meet Nye. Back here in Tubacca he wasconscious how much he had allowed his personal affairs to drift from dayto day. Of course he had seen very little of Hunt Rennie at theStronghold; his father had ridden south on patrol with his own privateposse shortly after his own arrival there. But whenever Drew thoughtseriously of the future he had that odd sense of dislocation and losswhich he had first known on the night he had seen _Don_ Cazar arrive atthe cantina. _Don_ Cazar--Hunt Rennie. Drew Kirby--Drew Rennie. A seesaw tomake a man dizzy, or maybe the vertigo he felt was the product of too muchsun, dust, and riding.
There was someone at a far table in the cantina, but otherwise the duskyroom was empty. Drew went directly to the bar. "Got any coffee, Fowler?"
"Sure thing. Nye was in here 'bout five minutes ago. Said for you to waithere for him. You hear 'bout Kitchell holdin' up th' stage?"
"Callie told me. Said the army patrol went out after him."
"Yeah, don't mean they'll nail him though. He's as good as an Apache 'boutkeepin' undercover. Here's your coffee. Want some grub, too?"
The smell of coffee revived Drew's hunger. "Sure could use some. Haven'teaten since we broke camp at sunup."
"Sing's in th' kitchen. I'll give him th' sign to rattle th' pans.Say--been racin' that Shiloh of yours lately? Sure am glad I played a hunchan' backed him against Oro." Fowler's red forelock bobbed over his highforehead as he nodded vigorously.
"No racin' on the Range."
"Hope you're keepin' him closer. That border crew'd sure like to git arope on him! Down Sonora way one of them Mexes would dig right down to th'bottom of his money chest to buy a hoss like that. I'll go an' tell Sing."
Drew, coffee mug in hand, sat down at a table where some of the breezebeat in the door now and then. Lord, he was really tired. He stretched outhis legs, and the sun made twinkly points of light on the rowels of theMexican spurs. Sipping the coffee, he allowed himself the luxury of notdoing any thinking at all.
Fowler brought a heaping plate and Drew began to eat.
"Oh, there you are!" Nye slammed in, swung one of the chairs about, andsat on it back to front, his arms folded across the back.
"You ridin' out to tell the army we're here--with the horses?" Drew asked.
"Nope, caught sight of them ridin' in. Looked like Sergeant Muller was incommand--he'll come in here. Hey, Fowler, how's about another plate offodder?"
"Steady on, fella. Make it straight ahead now!"
Both of them looked up. A burly man wearing sergeant's stripes steered aslighter figure before him through the open door. Johnny Shannon, abandage about his uncovered head, lurched as if trying to free himselffrom the other's grip and caught at a chair back. Nye and Drew jumped upto ease him into a seat.
"What's--?" began Nye.
Muller interrupted. "Found him crawlin' along right near town. Says as howhe was took by Kitchell 'n' got away, but he ain't too clear 'bout whathappened or where. Wearin' a crease 'longside his skull; maybe thatscrambled up his thinkin' some."
"Better get Doc Matthews. I think he's in town." Fowler came from the bar,a glass in hand.
"Right. I'll go." Nye started out.
Johnny had slumped forward, his head on the table encircled by
his limparms. Drew was puzzled. Shannon was supposed to have ridden south on theRange, not north. What was he doing this far away from the water-holeroute? Had he found a trail which led him in this direction? Or had hebeen jumped somewhere by Kitchell's pack of wolves and forced along forsome purpose of their own?
"Was he ridin', Sergeant?" Drew asked, hardly knowing why.
"No--footin' it. Said somethin' about Long Canyon after we gave him a pullat a canteen. Sure came a long way if that's where he started."
"I'll go get Hamilcar. He knows somethin' 'bout doctorin'," Fowler cut in."Maybe Doc Matthews ain't here, after all."
"Hey, Sarge, can I see you a minute?" came a hail from without.
"You manage." Muller made it more order than request as he left.
Drew sat alone with Shannon, one hand on the boy's shoulder to steady him.He was aware of movement behind him. If the fellow at the back table hadbeen dozing earlier, he was roused now.
"Where did you git them spurs?"
Drew turned, his lips shaped a name, tried again, and got it out as ahoarse whisper. "Anse! Don't you know me, Anse?"
He saw eyes lift from the floor level, the scarred cheek under a raggedfringe of beard; and then astonishment in the other's expression became aflashing grin.
"Drew--Drew Rennie! Lordy, it's sure enough Drew Rennie!"
Drew was on his feet. His hands on the other's shoulders pulled himforward into a rough half embrace. "Anse!" He swayed to the joyouspounding of a fist between his shoulder blades. "I thought you were dead!"he somehow gasped.
"An' I seen _you_ go down; a slug got you plumb center!" the Texansputtered. "Rolled 'round a bush an' saw you git it! But for a ghostyou're sure lively!"
"Caught me in the belt buckle," Drew recounted that miracle of the war."Knocked me out; didn't really touch to matter, though."
Anse pushed away a little, still holding Drew tightly by the upper arms."Anybody told me I'd see Drew Rennie live an' kickin', I'd said straightto his face he was a fork-tongued liar!"
Drew came partly to his senses and the present. Fowler ... Nye ... eitherone of them could come back on this reunion. "Anse--listen! This isimportant. I ain't Drew Rennie--not here, not now--"
"Had to draw a new name outta th' deck?" Anse's grin faded; his eyesnarrowed. "All right, what's the goin' handle?"
"Kirby, Drew Kirby ... I'll explain later." He had given the warning onlyjust in time. Fowler and Hamilcar were coming from the back room of thecantina, and there was a stir at the table.
Johnny was sitting up, his head swaying from side to side, his eyes onDrew and Anse. But the stare was unfocused; he must still be only halfconscious. Drew had a fleeting prick of worry. Had Shannon heard anythinghe would remember? There was nothing to be done about that now.