Rebel Spurs

by Andre Norton

  "This is the fourth day." Hilario Trinfan sat his buckskin at the waterhole, watched Teodoro make careful adjustment of the blankets tied on thebushes. "They will be wild with thirst. Tomorrow the blankets will betaken down. There will be no sign of man here. By mid-afternoon the mareswill be ready to fight past the Pinto for water. He can not hold themaway. So, they will come and drink--too much. Perhaps he will come, too. Ifhe does"--Trinfan snapped his fingers--"I shall be waiting with a rifle. Wetake no more chances with that one! Anyway, the mares will be heavy andslow with all the water in their bellies. They can be herded into ourtrap. Then he will come, _si_, that one will come--no one can take hismares from him! He will be mad with rage, too angry to be any longer socunning. We shall have him then. And there will be no more killings ofstuds here."

  At dusk Running Fox slipped down to the camp, but not far enough into thecircle of firelight to be sighted by any watcher in the night. Then withDrew and Anse he was off again.

  Within less than a quarter-hour Drew could have laughed wryly at his pastsatisfaction in his prowess as a scout. Compared to this flitting shadowhe was a bush bull crashing through the brush. Anse was better, muchbetter, but even he was far below the standard set by the Pima. The trioclimbed, crept, crouched for long moments waiting for Drew knew notwhat--some sound, some scent, some sight in the night which Running Foxwould accept as assurance of temporary safety.

  The Kentuckian had no idea of how long it took them to reach the perchinto which they at last pushed. A breastwork of rock was before him; thehalf circle of a shallow cave cut off a portion of the star-pointed skyabove. "Stay--here." The two words were grunted at them out of the dark.Then nothing ... Running Fox had vanished in a way which could make a manbelieve they had been escorted not by a living Pima, but by a ghost fromthat long-forgotten race which had left their houses scattered in canyonniches up and down this country.

  It was cold, even though the half cave shielded most of the wind. Drewunrolled the blanket he had carried tied about him, and he squeezed downbeside Anse. Their combined body warmth ought to keep them fairlycomfortable. Drew doubled his hands inside his coat, wriggling his glovedfingers to keep them from stiffening.

  "Sure do wish there was some way a fella could bring him a littleinvisible fire along on a trip like this," Anse commented. "Ain't goin' tobe what I'd name right out as a comfortable night."

  "Never seems to be any easy way to do a hard thing," Drew assented. Hehugged himself, his hands slipped back and forth about his waist. Underhis two shirts--he had added the second before he left the Stronghold--theband of his money belt made a lump and now his hands ran along it.

  He had had no occasion to open any of those pockets since he had leftTubacca the first time. Now, to take his mind off immediate discomfort, hetried to estimate by touch alone how many coins still remained in the twopockets. The middle section of the three divisions held his papers. Therewere those for the horses, the parole he had brought from Gainesville, thetwo letters he had not been able to bring himself to deliver to HuntRennie. One was from Cousin Merry, and the other was a formal,close-to-legal statement drawn up by Uncle Forbes' attorney. Both wereintended to prove the identity of one Drew Rennie beyond any reasonabledoubt.

  Drew's fingers stilled above that pocket. It felt too thick, bunchy underhis pinching. Whatever--? He squirmed around, free of the blanket, andbegan to pull off his gloves.

  "What's th' matter?" the Texan began in a whisper.

  "Just a minute!" It was a clumsy business, pulling the belt free fromunder his layers of heavy clothing. But Drew got it across his knee. Hischilled fingers picked at the fastening of the pocket. There was no packetof papers there--neither the sheets for the horse, nor the much-creasedstrip of the parole, nor the sealed envelope which had held both letters.Instead he plucked out what felt like shreds of grass and leaves, dry andcrackling.

  "What is it?" Anse leaned forward.

  "My papers--they're gone!" Drew rummaged frantically, turning the pocketinside out. When--who?

  "What papers, _compadre_?"

  Drew explained.

  "You've been wearin' that there belt constantly, ain't you?"

  "Yes. Except--" He suddenly tensed. "That night, down by the swimmin' hole,when you thought you saw somethin' in the bushes ... remember?"

  "I remember. Looky here, who'd want 'em--an' why?"

  "Shannon!" And in that moment Drew was as certain of that as if he hadactually seen Johnny stripping them out of the belt.

  "How'd he know you were carryin' anythin'?"

  "He knew I had the belt. I left it with Topham when I raced Shiloh, and hesaw me give it to him. And, Anse, he must have heard you call me 'Rennie'in the Jacks! If he did, he'd want to find out more--Rennie's not a commonname. And Shannon's not stupid. He'd figure anything valuable I'd becarryin' would be in this belt."

  "How come you didn't know it was gone?"

  "I don't know. Seemed just as heavy and that pocket didn't ride anydifferent when I had it on. No reason to open it lately."

  "So--what's he got? Your hoss papers, your parole outta th' army, an' themtwo letters. Yeah, he's got jus' 'bout all he needs to make one big warsmoke for you."

  "And I can't prove he has them," Drew said bleakly.

  "Jus' by makin' him one little private fire," Anse went on, "he couldabout put you outta business, _compadre_. There's only one thing to do."

  "Such as?"

  "Johnny Shannon has got to do some talkin' his ownself. An' we can't waittoo long to invite him to a chin-waggin' party, neither!"

  Anse was right. Shannon had only to slip that collection of papers intothe nearest fire and he would put an end to Drew Rennie. Of course Drewcould obtain duplicates of the letters and horse papers from Kentucky, butthat might take months. And he did not know whether the parole could bereissued from army records. Why, at this moment he could not prove that hehad served in the east with the Army of Tennessee. Let Bayliss come downon him now and he was defenseless....

  "We can't ride tonight," Anse added. "But come first light we give alook-see here an' then we move--straight back to th' Stronghold an'Shannon. Also--I'm sayin' this 'cause I think it's good advice, Drew. Now'sth' time you've got to go to th' Old Man an' tell him th' truth, quick asyou can. Sure, I know why you didn't want to claim kin before, but nowyou'll have to."

  Drew shook his head. "Not now--not with nothing to back up my story.Shannon could give me the lie direct."

  "I'm thinkin' you're showin' less brains than a dumb cow-critter, _amigo_.But, lissen--I'm backin' your play. Does Shannon cut up rough, he's got twoof us hitchin' a holster steady an' gittin' ready to loose lead."

  "No, I'm not goin' to drag you in."

  "Yeah--an' I mean yeah! We joined trails a long time back, by that theremill pond in Kentucky, and we ain't splittin' now. If a storm's walkin' upon us slow--or comin' fast with its tail up--it's goin' to be both of usgittin' under or out together."

  Drew put on the belt again. His impatience bit at him, but what Anse saidmade sense. They had been sent here to do a job and in the morning theywould do it. Then they could ride back to the Stronghold. How he was goingto handle Shannon he had no idea, but that he would have to he was sure.

  The first light was a gray rim around the world as they lay flat, trainingthe glasses Hilario had loaned them on two horses grazing not too farbelow.

  "Well, that's it. U.S. As big an' plain as th' paint on a Comanche facean' almost as ugly. Them's army mounts an' I don't see no troopershereabouts," Anse said.

  Running Fox materialized in his ghostly fashion, and they retraced at abetter speed and less effort the path which had brought them to the canyonperch. Just as they were about to top the ridge behind the mustanger camp,the Pima held up a warning hand.

  "Long knives...."

  "Troopers?" They went to their knees and made a stealthy crawl to thecrest of the ridge.

  There were troopers down there, all right. The Trinfans sat on theirsaddles while an
officer walked up and down before them. Running Fox put afinger on Drew's arm and motioned to the left. The horses of themustangers were browsing in a small dell, their night hobbles unloosed.Together the trio moved in that direction.

  The Pima slipped ahead with a speed and efficiency of motion hiscompanions envied. He had the two nearest horses in hand, leading themtoward the bushes.

  "Looks like we ride bareback." Anse caught at a hackamore, then mounted.

  "Move!" Drew waved Running Fox to the other horse. "We can't wait to getanother horse. You ride for the Stronghold, make it straight to Rennie andreport. I'm stayin' here. I can say we were fired and Trinfan took me onas a hand."

  Anse was the better rider under these circumstances, and the better scout.To wait to pick up a third horse was folly.

  "What about Shannon?"

  "Shannon'll have to wait!" Drew slapped the Texan's horse. It reared andthen pounded off. Drew turned to walk back to the camp. He rounded the endof the ridge and stopped short. The round and deadly mouth of an Army Coltwas pointed straight at his middle, covering the disastrously empty pocketof his money belt.