by Andre Norton
"A mite cold, ain't it?" Anse demanded from the bank as Drew splashedvigorously to offset the chill. But the Texan was shucking boots andclothing in turn.
There were a lot of shadows this close to twilight. Lamps twinkled in theStronghold. A horse nickered from the corrals, was answered from the barn.Then a bray--Croaker sounding off. From the hills came the far-off_yip-yip-yip_ of a coyote.
"Hey!" Anse stood up knee-high in the water.
"What's the matter?" Drew called.
"Thought I saw somethin' movin' over there!"
Drew took a scrambling leap out of the water to their tangle of clothing,his hand reaching for one of the Colts in the belt he had left carefullyon top of the pile. All those stories of Apaches weaseling into touchingdistance of the guard at the Stronghold.... Why, only last year theyounger Rivas boy had had his throat slit out in the hay field withinsight of his home!
The Kentuckian crouched, alert, Anse beside him now, both listening forany suspicious sound. At last they huddled into their clothes, hurriedback to the bunkhouse. Bartolome was there waiting for them.
"You Tejanos--" There was no pretense of friendliness in his hail. "The_patron_ will see you, pronto!"
They went, tugging their clothing into order as they paused outside thedoor. Drew rapped, took the sound from within as an invitation, and pushedaside the heavy oak planks.
Outwardly the room was unchanged. No one had moved those old Spanishchests, the skin rugs, the table, since his last visit there. But he hadthe feeling that it was chill now, cold, as if a hearth fire had beenallowed to die into ashes. Perhaps that thought crossed his mind becauseHunt Rennie stood by the fireplace moving the toe of his boot back andforth across a smear of gray powder. His back greeted them unwelcomingly,and the silence lengthened uncomfortably until Drew did as he always hadand met the unpleasant head-on.
"You wanted us, suh?" It was like being back in the army. Even his armtwitched as if some muscle was activated by memory to make one of thoseinformal military salutes the scouts favored.
Hunt Rennie did turn now. His eyes leveled on them. In the light of thecandles his cheeks looked even more hollow tonight, and he moved stifflyas might a man who was not only bone-tired in body, thought Drew, butweary in mind as well.
"You are Anson Kirby?" he addressed the Texan first.
"Yes, suh." Anse, too, must be caught up in the same web of memory. Thatwas his old report-to-the-commanding-officer voice.
"I understand you two thought it necessary to take on some troopers in theJacks."
What was the proper reply to that? Drew wondered. Probably it was best tofollow the old army rule of keep the mouth shut, never volunteer, noexplanations. If Hunt Rennie had had the story from Topham or Nye, healready knew how the fight began.
"I won't have troublemakers on the Range." Now the voice, too, was tired.The youthfulness which had impressed Drew on their initial meeting haddrained from this man tonight. He was taut as if pulled harp-string tightinside. Drew knew that feeling also. But what battle had Rennie emergedfrom--some struggle with Shannon or Bayliss?
Then the words made sense, penetrating his concern for the man who hadsaid them. Well, this dismissal only matched his gloomiest expectations.
"Can't any of you young fools get it through your thick heads that thewar's over? Saloon brawling with the army ain't going to change that.It'll only get you into worse difficulties around here."
A spark of protest awoke inside Drew. Rennie was reading this all wrong.He and Anse certainly hadn't been trying to wipe away the bitter taste ofGainesville by jumping some blue coats in a cantina hundreds of miles andmore than a year away from where they had been forced to admit, at last,that bulletless carbines and bare feet could not keep on shooting andmarching.
"Must have been mistaken about you, Kirby." Now Rennie looked at Drew.
The Kentuckian met those dark eyes squarely, his first unvoiced proteststiffening into defiance. But he faced the older man steadily. Anse,watching them both, drew a small, fast breath. Good thing for Drew therewere no other witnesses now; the likeness between the two Rennies wasunmistakable at this moment.
Hunt Rennie did not follow up his half accusation. He appeared to beexpecting some reply. What? A childish promise to be a good boy, not to doit again? Drew's half-unconscious concern for this man burned awayspeedily, ignited by what he deemed injustice.
Anse broke the too long silence. "I don't know what you heard 'bout thatthere fight, suh," he drawled. "Can't see as how we could have done nodifferent nohow. But that's no call to saddle it all on Drew. Me, I had ahand--two fists--in it, too. An' if that's what's th' matter, I can pullout----"
"No!" Drew's hand came up in the old gesture to stop the line of march."We'll both ride, Mr. Rennie. We don't aim to argue the matter any.Only--there's one thing--I brought Shadow and the filly down with the wagontrain. The foal's too young to trail on now. They're blooded stock. I'vepapers for them. I'll sell...."
He loathed saying every word of that. It was not only the thought ofgiving up Shadow and the foal, though he knew that would cut with a deeperhurt every day. It was having to ask any kind of favor from this man. Notthat such a sale was a favor; Rennie ought to be glad to get such bloodfor the Range.
"You ain't goin' to do that!" Anse was stung into angry protest.
But Drew was unaware of the Texan's outburst, his entire attention forHunt Rennie. The tall man came over to the table, moved one of thecandelabra forward as if to throw more light on Drew.
"That your choice of solutions, boy--to run?"
Drew flushed. The unfairness of that jab pushed him off balance. What_did_ this man want of him anyway? Rennie had said it plain that he didnot want Drew and Anse on the Range.
"Running never settled anything." Rennie's fingers traced the spread ofthe candelabra's arms. "Neither does jumping to conclusions. Has anyonesaid you were through here, unless by your own choice?"
Drew was jarred into an answer. "You said----"
Rennie sighed. "Do any of you young fire-eaters ever listen to more thanone tenth of what any of your elders say? I _am_ saying and making itplain: If you make a steady practice of trading punches with a trooper orwith any one else because you take a dislike to his face, the way his earsstick out, how he walks or talks, or what color coat he wore in the war,then you can roll your beds and ride out--the sooner the better.
"Reese Topham tells me that he explained the local situation to you, andyou appeared to understand it then. Any difficulty with the army couldhave serious consequences, not just for you, but for the Range as well.This time you were not the aggressors. But after being forewarned, if ithappens again, I'll be hard to convince that you were in the right. Thewar's over--keep on remembering that. This is new country where it doesn't,or shouldn't, matter whether a man wore a blue coat or marched under theStars and Bars. You're far too young to let the past cut off the future.Wars can finish a whole way of life for a man...." His eyes no longer heldDrew's; he was looking beyond toward the half-open door or perhaps atsomething that he alone could see. "You have to learn to throw away brokenthings, not cherish them. Never look back!" That dry, tired voice took ona fierce intensity. Then he was back with them again.
"Two Kirbys riding for the same spread is going to be rather confusing.You are Drew, and you are Anson--Anson--" He repeated the name. "What partof Texas are you from?"
"Pa had him a spread down near th' San Sabe 'fore th' Comanches came. Hewas Anson, too--in th' Rangers for a while, Pa was."
"Tall man, with a lot of freckles and red hair? Best rider in Miggs'Company----" It was half question, half assertion.
"You knew Pa!" Anse shouldered past Drew. "That was Pa right enough. Herode with Lieutenant Miggs in the Mex War."
Hunt Rennie was smiling. Once more years spun away from him. "I ought toknow him, son. He toted me across his saddle for a mighty long five mileson a blistering hot day, I having as much to say about the matter as asack of corn, and being three times a
s heavy in spite of a starvationdiet. Yes, I'll remember Anson Kirby. He and his squad were the firstAmericans I ran into after I broke out of a filthy prison. Funnythough"--he glanced at Drew--"I don't remember his mentioning a brother. You_are_ his nephew?"
Anse was quick to the rescue. "Pa--he an' Drew's Pa--they weren't too close.Drew's Pa was town folks. He sent Drew to Kaintuck for schoolin'. Pa, hefavored th' range an' th' free land west--"
Rennie nodded. "Well, Anson, if you're as good a rider as your father, wecan use you here. Horse knowledge seems to run in your family. Now,shortly we are expecting a _Coronel_ Luis Oliveri who's to buy horses forthe Juarez forces. He may need some assistance in driving them as far asthe border. If he does, both of you'll go."
"Yes, suh."
Drew's agreement was drowned out by a harsh cry from overhead. Rennie wentinto action, so swiftly that for a startled moment Drew was left gaping atempty space. _Don_ Cazar had caught up one of the rifles from under awindow and had crossed the doorway to look back at the roof of the CasaGrande, calling out an inquiry in another language.
"Apaches don't attack at night!" Drew was heading for the door in turn.
"Outlaws do, when it pays," Anse shot out grimly.
But on a second hail from the rooftop sentry post Rennie swung the rifleover his arm and faced the outer gate of the patio.
"Unbar, Francisco!" he called in Spanish.
One leaf of the massive door folded back to allow in a small party ofhorsemen. One saddled but riderless mount galloped along with the rest.Another man held to the high horn with both hands and weaved back andforth while a comrade riding beside him strove to keep him from topplingto the ground. Drew had an impression of bright, almost gaudy uniforms.The men of the Stronghold poured out to take the horses, helping down morethan one blood-stained soldier. Their leader, a slender man with dustygold lace banding his high collar, came directly to Rennie.
"_Don_ Cazar." His Spanish was a flood in which Drew was lost almostimmediately, but Anse listened with parted lips and then translated aquick account.
"This here's th' _Coronel_. He an' his men was bushwhacked. Got away'cause they met th' wagon train goin' south an' whoever was eatin' theirdust huntin' them didn't seem to like the odds. Not Apaches, probably_bandidos_----"
"Kitchell?" Drew asked.
"My guess is they ain't sure. Got hit quick an' had to stampede to savetheir skins."
Oliveri's men were taken in and Drew saw Rennie himself going from one ofthe wounded to another, applying bandages and once probing skillfully fora bullet. Drew commented on that, and Nye answered:
"Old Man knows what's he's doin'. He ain't no real doc, of course, but wasI totin' me a hunka lead in some serious part, I'd rather have him diggin'for it than a lotta docs I've seen out here. Heard tell as how once he wasplannin' to be a real doc hisself. He sure can take care of a fella good.What I'd like to know is how them bushwhackers knew jus' where to lay downan' wait for Oliveri."
"What do you mean?"
"This here _Coronel_, he was comin' to buy hosses an' so he was carryin'money or else somethin' as could pass for money. We all knowed he wascomin'. But we didn't know when or what road, an' he wasn't tellin' thathis side of th' border neither. Only some jasper had such a good idea asto that what an' where, he an' some _amigos_ was squattin' back of rocksjus' waitin' for th' _Coronel_ to ride into their little pocket of fire."
"Mexicans could have trailed them up, cut ahead and waited----"
"Sure. Only this operation was too slick for most _bandidos_. They don'tgo in for timed, planned things; they jus' cut loose when they see achance. This was different. Only Fenner an' some of the train guardsridin' in spoiled their game."
"Kitchell then?"
"Sounds more like. Don't think Kitchell's some common ridge-ridin' badman. He'd never've lasted this long was that so--not with th' Old Man an'th' army an' what law there is in th' territory all gunnin' for him. Plansthings, Kitchell does, an' so far his plannin' has always paid off.
"There's something else true now, too. Was Kitchell plannin' to make abreak south, he'd want him a good big stake to cover him on cold nightsan' winter days. I jus' wonder if this here ain't th' first of a lot offancy raidin' jobs. Could be he'll hit fast an' hard, gather up all th'sweepin's an' light out. Could jus' be...."
"Don't promise us much shadin' times, does it?" Anse remarked. "Soundslike everybody's goin' to have to set up a string an' ride hosses inrotation. That is, always supposin' your supposin' is right."
"Yeah, always supposin' that," Nye agreed.
