Rebel Spurs Page 18

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  "See, senores, the land lies so...." Hilario Trinfan's crooked body pulledtogether in a lopsided perch as he squatted range fashion beside themorning campfire. He had smoothed a space of ground the width of his twohands and was setting out twigs and stones to create a miniature reliefmap of the countryside. "Here is the water hole to which the Pinto comes.Above that we were--moving in from this side. To do so we crossed here." Ablack-rimmed nail stabbed into the dust.

  "It is then we see the tracks--five ahead--all shod horses, but not ridden,save for one."

  "Apaches could have been running them," Drew commented.

  "No." Trinfan shook his head. "This far from pursuit the Apaches would nothave moved so. The Indio, he eats horseflesh. There would have been signsof a fire. Or one of the animals cut down. These horses were being movedwith care--not pushed too hard. We trailed them on to here." Hilariostabbed his finger into the dust again. "Then--Teodoro, now tell them whatyou saw."

  The younger mustanger hung over the crude map. "I climbed, _senores_, upover the rocks. It is bad, that ground, high, steep--but with care one canreach a ledge. And along that one can go to look down into the nextcanyon. A good place for horses--there is water and grass. I stayed therewatching with the glasses _Don_ Cazar gave my father, the glasses whichbring the far close. There were poles set up in the rocks through whichthey brought those horses--making it like a pen we build for wild ones. Butthose in it were not wild."

  "How many--an' what brands?" Anse wanted to know.

  Teodoro shrugged. "There are many trees, rocks; one can not seeeverywhere. I counted twenty head--there is room for more. As to brands,even the glasses could not make those plain to the eyes of one lyingabove. But there is no other ranchero who would run horses on the Rangeand _Don_ Cazar's _manadas_ are not driven in here--does he want the wildones to run off his mares? Horses would be kept so for only one reason,that they must be hidden. And in such a place as we found they could beleft for maybe a month, or more. _Don_ Cazar's riders do not patrol thisfar away from the Stronghold. Had it not been that the Pinto causes somuch trouble, even we would not be here."

  "What about the Pinto? If he's all you say, wouldn't he try to get at thisband?" asked Drew.

  "No reason if they are saddle stock--no mares among them," Anse saidthoughtfully. "But would those hombres who put 'em there jus' leave--noguards or nothin'?"

  "That is what we do not know," Hilario replied. "We took every precautionagainst being seen when Teodoro climbed to look into the canyon. And--thisI believe--we were not suspected if there was any watcher. Otherwise,otherwise, _senores_, we would not have been alive to greet you when yourode in last night! This Kitchell, he is like an Apache--here, there,everywhere. Today I am easier because you have brought the Pima, becausewe have two more guns in this camp."

  "Why didn't you pull out yourselves?" Anse asked curiously.

  "Because, were we watched, that would have made our discovery as plain asif we stood out in the open and shouted it to the winds. For three daysbefore we found that trail we had been building a pen for wild ones,casting about for the tracks and runs of the Pinto's band. Having done so,we would not leave without completing our drive. And, should those outthere suspect"--Trinfan shook his head--"we would not have lived to reachthe Stronghold, and that is the truth."

  "This is also truth, _padre_." Faquita came to the fire and picked up thecoffeepot, pouring the thick black liquid into the waiting line of tincups. "It is time for us to finish and be on the move--not to just talk ofwhat must be done."

  Drew looked up in surprise. The girl was wearing breeches, ready to ride.In addition, instead of the gunbelts which all the men wore as a matter ofcourse, Faquita had tucked a pair of derringers in the front of her sashbelt. Their small grips showed above the faded silk folds.

  "She goin' with us?" the Kentuckian asked, as the girl kicked dust overthe campfire and stowed the empty pot in the cart. "Ain't thatdangerous--for her?"

  Hilario got to his feet with a lurch that made his crippled state only tooplain. "_Senor_, to hunt the wild ones is dangerous. You see me, twistedlike a root, no? Not tall and straight as a man should be. This was doneby the wild ones--in one small moment when I was not quick enough. Amongus--the mustangers--it is often the daughters who are the best riders. Theyare quick, eager, riding lighter than their brothers or their fathers. Andto some it is a loved life. With Faquita that is true. As for danger--isthat not always with us?

  "In war danger is a thing which one man makes for another. In this countrythe land itself fights man--war or no war. A cloudburst fills an arroyowith a flood without warning, and a man is drowned amidst desert sandwhere only hours before he could have died for lack of that same water.There is a fall of rocks, a fall of horse, a stampede of cattle, sicknesswhich strikes at a lone traveler out of nowhere. Yet have you not riddento war, and come now to live on this land? _Si_, we have danger--but a mancan also die in his bed in the midst of a village with strong walls. Andto everyone his own way of life. Now we ride...."

  They did indeed ride, following a trail which, as far as Drew could see,existed only in the minds of the mustangers. But the three Mexicans swungalong so confidently that he and Anse joined without question or argument.

  At a distance they circled the waiting pen with walls of entwined brushand sapling, ready to funnel driven horses into a blind canyon. ThePinto's band must be located, somehow shaken out of the rocky territorytheir wily leader favored, before that drive could begin. Water, Trinfansaid, would be the key. Horses must drink and they were creatures ofhabit, never ranging far from some one hole they had made their own.Trinfan blankets already flapped about the Pinto's chosen spring. They hadseen the horses approach several times in the past two days and shy awayfrom those flapping things with the fearsome man scent.

  "As long as La Bruja is with them," Faquita said, coming up beside Drew,"they will not come."

  "La Bruja?"

  "The Witch, as Anglos would say. We call her so because of her cunning.She is the wise one who keeps lookout. I say she is possessed by the EvilOne. It is possible the Pinto is her son. Together they have alwaysoutwitted the hunters. But La Bruja is old--she runs more stiffly. Lasttime in the chase she began to drop behind. She is of no use, only anuisance. It is the White One I wish to drop rope over!"

  "The White One?"

  "_Si._ She is Nieve--the snow of the upper mountains. Among our people youwill hear many tales of white ones, without a dark spot on them--the GhostStallions that run the plains and no man may lay rope over. But this mareis the truth! And someday--" Her eyes shone and she seemed to be makingsome vow Drew would be called to bear witness to. "Someday she will bemine! Not to trail south and sell--no--but to keep, always!"

  "She must be very beautiful," he commented.

  "It is not only that, _senor_. You have a fine horse, one which beat _Don_Cazar's Oro, is that not so?"

  "Yes. Shiloh ..."

  "And to you that one is above all other horses. If you lost him, you wouldbe--like hungry ... inside you, is that not also so?"

  "Yes!" Her earnestness triggered that instant response from him.

  "So it is with me since I have seen Nieve. Men find such a horse; foryears they follow the band in which it runs to snare it. They will sufferbroken bones, as did my father, and hunger, and thirst, because there isone tossing head, one set of flying heels before them. Sometimes they arelucky and they catch that one. If they do not, there is in them a pinch ofwinter even when the desert sun is hot. Once I loved all horses--now thereis this one which I must have!"

  "I hope you get her!"

  "_Senor_, last season I hoped. This season--this season I have belief thatmy hopes will come true. Ah, look, the Indio!"

  She pointed with quirt and Drew glanced left. He saw what appeared to bean outcrop of rock among many others move, then rise on sturdy legs tomeet them.

  Running Fox, a brown blanket twisted over one shoulder, the rest of himstripped down to breechc
lout and moccasins, padded up to Hilario Trinfanand spoke in the guttural Pima. The mustanger translated.

  "The horses are still there. But there is a camp of two men on the northslope above the canyon. Both men are Anglos. They are armed with riflesand take turns watching."

  "Can we reach a place from where we can read the brands on the horses?"Drew asked.

  Trinfan questioned the Pima.

  "_Si._ But you can not go there by day. You must go in at dusk, wait outthe night, and then see what you could in the early morning. Leave beforesunup. Otherwise the watchers may be able to locate you. He says"--Trinfansmiled--"that _he_ could go at high noon and would not be seen. But for awhite man is a different matter."

  "Waste a whole day jus' waitin'!" Anse protested.

  "_Senor_, when one balances time against death, then I would say time isthe better choice," Hilario replied. "But this day will not be wasted. Ifany watch us--as well as those horses--they will see us about our businessand will have no doubt that we hunt wild horses, not stolen ones."

  So Drew and Anse joined the mustangers' hunting. To Anse this wassomething he had done before. Drew remembered that the Texan had beenworking with just such a hunting party when his family had been wiped outby the Comanches in '59. But to Drew it was a new experience and he wasdeeply intrigued by what he saw and the reasons for such action.

  All they sighted of the Pinto's now thoroughly thirsty band was the studhimself and a black mare--La Bruja--looking down from a vantage point highon a rocky rim. And the hunters did not try to reach them, knowing thatall the wild ones would be long gone before they could reach that lookout.