Rebel Spurs Page 6

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  "So, you see me, Bayliss," _Don_ Cazar returned evenly. "There is sometrouble?"

  Bartolome shifted from one foot to the other, his spurs ringing. _Don_Lorenzo's expression was one of withdrawal, but on the round countenanceof the Mexican was open dislike.

  The sun-reddened skin flushed darker. "All right, Rennie!" the captainexploded. "If you want it straight, that's the way you're going to get it!You've been hiring Rebs again!"

  Once before Drew had seen explosive anger curbed visibly by a man who knewthe folly of losing control over his emotions. It had been on a hilltopback in Tennessee, with the storm clouds of January overhead. GeneralBedford Forrest, watching men driven to the limit by necessity and his ownorders, had looked just that way when he had rounded on Drew, bearing newsof yet another break-through by the Federals. Now it was this Anglowearing Spanish dress and standing in a dim stable, reining temper to meetthe open hostility of the captain.

  "Captain Bayliss." The words sounded as remote as if the speaker bestrodesome peak of the Chiricahuas to address a pygmy in a canyon below. "I knowof no law which states that I may not employ whom I choose on my own land.If a man does his job and makes no trouble, his past does not matter. I amas ready to fire a former Union soldier as I am a Confederate--"

  "I tell you again: I'm not going to have Rebs around here passing oninformation to Kitchell!"

  "And _I_ say once again, Captain, that men who ride for me do not inaddition ride for Kitchell."

  "_Si_--!" Bartolome's face was as flushed as Bayliss' now. "We do not helpthose _bandidos_. Do they not also raid us? Two weeks ago Francisco Perez,his horse comes in with blood on the saddle. We ride out and findhim--shot, dragged with the rope. That is not Apache trick, that, but thework of Kitchell and his snakes!"

  "Peace, _amigo_." _Don_ Cazar's raised finger silenced his man. "Bartolomeis right, Bayliss. Kitchell is beginning to nibble at the Range. He hasnot many sources of supply left. Soon he will either have to cross theborder to stay or make some reckless raid which will give us a chance athim."

  "These damned Rebs around here will keep him going! You can't tell me theydon't back him every chance they get. And I'm warning you, Rennie, if youhire any man you can't answer for, he's going to the stockade and you'llhear about it from the army!"

  "And you also listen, Captain. I will not be dictated to, and the army hadbest understand that. I do not want Kitchell in this country any more thanyou do. He has made a boast of being Confederate leading what he termsMounted Irregulars. But to my knowledge he never held a commission fromthe South, and he is nothing but an outlaw trading on the unsettled stateof the territory. That is recognized by every decent man in Arizona. Andthat covers those you call 'Rebels' as well as former Union men."

  Bayliss was silent for a long second, and then he jerked his hat fartherdown on his peeling forehead. "You've had notice, Rennie, that's all Ihave to say. I'm going to clear all the Rebs out of this section. Then wewill be able to get at Kitchell, and the army will settle him for good andall!"

  "Bayliss!" The captain had half turned, but _Don_ Cazar's call halted him."Don't you try harassing any of my riders. They mind their business andwill not make any trouble as long as they are left in peace. If there areany problems in town, _Don_ Lorenzo Sierra, here, is the alcalde and theymust be referred to him."

  The captain favored Rennie with a last glare and was gone. Tobe Kellsspoke first.

  "That one's chewin' th' bit an' gittin' ready to hump under th' saddle.This business of tryin' to run out th' Rebs, it'll cause smokin'!"

  "He has no right to give such an order," _Don_ Cazar was beginning whenthe alcalde interrupted:

  "_Compadre_, for a man such as that your talk of rights means nothing. Heis eaten by the need to impress his will here, and that will bringtrouble. I do not like what I have heard, no, I do not like it at all."

  "You know what may be really eating at him this time, Hunt?" Topham spokefrom where he was leaning against the wall of Shadow's box stall. "Johnnywas throwing his weight around again last night. Had a set-to in the Jackswith a trooper. Unless the kid quits trying to fight the war over againevery time he sees an army blouse--or until he stops pouring whisky downhim every time he hits town--there may be shooting trouble. There're someequal hot-heads in Bayliss' camp, and if Johnny goes up against one ofthem, a scuffle could become a battle."

  "Yeah, an' that warn't all Johnny was doin' last night." Kells shifted histobacco cud from one cheek to the other. "Iffen Kirby here hadn't been tohand, Johnny would have skinned th' Trinfan kid with his quirt--jus' 'causehe dropped his purse outside th' Jacks an' th' kid followed him to give itback. Johnny's meaner than a drunk Injun these days. That's Bible-sweartruth, Rennie."

  "To lose a war makes a man bitter," _Don_ Cazar said slowly. "Johnny wasfar too young when he ran away to join Howard. And after that defeat atGlorieta, the retreat to Texas was pure hell with the fires roaring. Itseems to have done something to the boy--inside."

  "Johnny wasn't the only boy at Glorieta. From what I've heard most of themweren't old enough to grow a good whisker crop." Topham's voice had lostits detached note. "And he sure wasn't the only Confederate to surrender.Hunt, he's got to learn that losing a war doesn't mean that a man has lostthe rest of his life. But the way he's been acting these past months,Johnny might just lose it. Bayliss' tongue is hanging out a yard or morehe's panting so hard to get back at you. That captain has heady ambitionsunder his hat, maybe like setting up here as a tinpot governor orsomething like. If he can discredit you, well, he probably thinks he's gota chance to rake in the full pot, and it's a big one. Get Johnny back onthe Range, Hunt--put him to work, hard. Sweat that sour temper and whiskyout of him. He used to be a promising youngster; now he's turning broncofast. All he seems to have learned in the war is how to use those guns ofhis to lord it over anyone he believes he can push around. And somedayhe'll try to push the wrong man--"

  _Don_ Cazar was staring ahead of him now at Drew and Shiloh. But Drew knewthat Hunt Rennie was not seeing either man or horse, but a mental picturewhich was not too pleasing.

  "He's just a boy." Rennie did not utter that as an excuse; rather he saidit as if to reassure himself. Then his eyes really focused on Drew, and hechanged the subject abruptly.

  "Kirby, when the train comes in we sometimes set up a race or two. Anythought of trying your colt against some of the local champions?"

  "Oro perhaps?" Drew counter-questioned.

  Rennie laughed. "Oh, so you've been talking, Fenner?"

  The scout came away from where Tar was still very audibly munching histreat. "Didn't know as how th' younker had him a runnin' hoss, _Don_Cazar." He inspected Shiloh critically. "But that thar sure looks a lottahoss. 'Course maybe he ain't used t' runnin' out here whar th' groundain't made all nice an' easy fur his feet. But I dunno, I dunno at all."

  "Anyway he'll give Oro stiffer competition than he's had in the last tworaces. Unless that Lieutenant Spath up at the camp tries again with thatlong-legged black of his," Topham added. "What about it, Kirby? Youwilling to match Shiloh?"

  "He's green, but, yes, I'll do it."

  Drew's motives were mixed. His pride in the colt had been pushing himtoward such a trial ever since he had heard Fenner speak of Oro. Inaddition, as the owner of a noted horse, he would take a place in thiscommunity, establish his identity as Drew Kirby. And in some way he couldnot define, this put him, at least in his own mind, on an equal footingwith _Don_ Cazar.

  But by the next morning a few doubts troubled him as he tightened saddlecinches on the stallion. Shiloh's only races so far had been impromptumatches along the trail. Though the colt had been consistently the victor,none of his rivals had been in his class. And if Oro's speed was asstriking as his coloring, the Range stud would prove a formidableopponent.

  "Walk him up and down here by the corral." The Kentuckian handed the reinsto Callie. "Got something I have to do."

  Drew went directly to the Four Jacks. This time
the cantina was filled,with a double row of the thirsty demanding attention at the bar. ButTopham was seated at a table with _Don_ Lorenzo and Zack Cahill of thestage line. The Kentuckian went over to them.

  "You have come to back your horse, _senor_?" _Don_ Lorenzo smiled up atDrew. There were piles of coins on the table as Cahill listed bets for themen crowding around.

  "Yes, suh." Drew spun down two double eagles. "What're the odds?"

  "Started six to one for Oro," Topham told him. "Coasted down after a fewof the boys had a look at Shiloh. Can give you four to one now. Anythingelse we can do for you?"

  Drew dropped his voice. "Do you have a safe here?"

  Topham's eyebrows climbed. "Do you foresee a deposit or a withdrawal?"

  "Deposit. I want to ride light today."

  "Then I'll admit possession of a safe, such as it is. _Don_ Lorenzo, _porfavor_, will you act as banker?" He beckoned Drew after him into a smallback room which was in sharp contrast to the main part of the Four Jacks.

  On one wall was a fanned display of old daggers and swords which dated acentury or so back to the Spanish colonial days. A bookcase crammed withtightly squeezed volumes provided a resting place for pieces of nativepottery bearing grotesque animal designs. On the far wall were strips ofbrightly colored woven materials flanking a huge closed cupboard, a veryold one, Drew thought. Its paneled front was carved with deeply incisedpatterns centering about a shield bearing arms. Only the battered desk andan attendant chair with a laced rawhide seat were of the frontier.

  Topham took a chained key from the pocket of his fancy vest and went tofit it into a lock concealed in the carved foliage of the cupboard. Theshield split down the middle, revealing shelves of metal boxes and packetsof papers. Drew unfastened his money belt and handed it over. As he wastucking his shirt in his belt once more the gambler nodded at thecupboard.

  "This is about as near a bank as we boast in Tubacca. Cahill has astrongbox at the stage station, and Stein some kind of a lockup at hisstore--that's the total for the town. We haven't grown to the size for areal banking establishment--"

  "Hey, Reese, th' Old Man about--?"

  Shannon was in the doorway. In the full light of day he looked younger.Drew was puzzled. That strange animosity which had flashed between themlast night--why had he felt it? There was nothing like that emotion now.But as Johnny Shannon's gaze flitted from Topham to the Kentuckian, Drewwas once more aware that, whatever he might outwardly seem, Johnny Shannonwas no boy. Behind that disarmingly youthful facade was another personaltogether.

  "Kirby, ain't it?" Shannon smiled. "Understand I got outta line th' othernight ... stepped on a lotta toes." That gaze flickered for the merestinstant to the Colts at the Kentuckian's belt. "I sure had me a realsnootful an' I guess I was jus' fightin' th' war all over again. No hardfeelin's?"

  That guileless confession was very convincing on the surface. How did youassess an emotion you did not understand yourself? Drew was teased by afleeting memory of the past, of a time when he had faced another pair ofeyes such as those, surface eyes behind which you could see nothing. Thenhe became conscious that the pause was too lengthy, and he replied with ahurry he immediately regretted:

  "No hard feelin's."

  This time he was able to recognize the meaning of that quirk of Shannon'slips. But prudence controlled the small flare of temper he felt insidehim. It did not really matter. Let Shannon think he was backing down. Ifthe time ever came that they did have to have a showdown, Johnny Shannonmight be the surprised one.

  "You're sure a trustin' fella." Shannon's fingers hooked to the front ofthe gun belt riding low on the hip. "Not askin' for no receipt ornothin'...."

  Topham laughed. "We don't forget what is due a customer, Johnny." He wentto the desk, scribbled a line on a piece of paper, and held it out toDrew. "This should meet all contingencies, such as some patron out theregetting downright ornery and putting a couple of extra buttonholes in myvest by the six-gun slug method."

  "Heard tell as how you're fixin' to race your plug 'gainst Oro, Kirby,"Johnny drawled. "Also as how you laid down some good round boys to backhis chance. I took me a piece of them--easy pickin's." The sneer wasplainer in his voice than it had been in his smile.

  Drew's puzzlement grew. Why was Shannon leaning on him this way? Becausehe had stepped in to stop the quirting of Teodoro? That was the onlyreason the Kentuckian could think of.

  "That's a matter of opinion." Topham was studying them both with interest."I'd say Oro has him some real competition at last. None of the Eclipseblood was ever backward on the track."

  "You ridin' yourself?" Shannon paid no attention to the gambler's comment.

  Drew nodded. "He knows me, and I ride light--"

  "Sure, I suppose you do--now." Shannon's eyes flickered again, this time tothe locked cupboard. "Heard tell--leastways Callie's been spoutin' itaround--that you was with General Forrest."

  "Yes."

  "You sure musta pulled outta th' war better'n th' rest of us poor Rebs.Got you a couple of blooded hosses an' a good heavy money belt. A sightmore luck than th' rest of us had--"

  "Don't include yourself in the empty-pocket brigade, Johnny," Tophamrapped out. "I don't see you going without eating money, drinking moneyeither, more's a pity. And if you're really looking for Rennie now, you'llfind him down at the course."

  Shannon's smile was gone. He straightened away from the door frame whichhad been supporting his shoulders. "Thanks a lot, Reese." He left with thesame abruptness as he had from the stable alley.

  "So you're riding yourself." Topham ignored the departure. "Leon Rivas,Bartolome's son, will be up on Oro; he always rides for Rennie. He'syounger than you, but I'd say"--the gambler studied Drew's lithe bodycritically--"you're about matched in weight. I'd shuck that gun belt,though, and anything else you can. And good luck, Kirby. You'll need allof it you can muster."

  An hour later Drew followed Topham's advice, leaving gun belt, carbine,and everything else he could unload in Callie's keeping before he swung upon Shiloh. The big colt was nervous, tending to dance sideways, tossinghis head high. Drew concentrated on the business at hand, striving toforget the crowd opening up to let him through, shouting encouragement ordisparagement. Ahead was the appointed track, a beaten stretch of earth,part of the old road leading to the mines. The Kentuckian talked to Shilohas they went, keeping up a stream of words to firm the bond between horseand rider.

  There was a knot of men surrounding the golden horse, and as his ridermounted, Oro put on a good show, rearing to paw the air with his forefeetas if he wished nothing better than to meet his gray rival in an impromptuboxing match. Then he nodded his head vigorously, acknowledging the shoutsfrom his enthusiastic supporters. Beside that magnificent blaze of colorShiloh was drab, a shadow about to be put to flight by the sun.

  They were to break at a starting shot, head to the big tree which made anexcellent landmark in the flat valley, rounding its patch of shade beforereturning to the starting point. Drew brought Shiloh, still prancing andplaying with his bit, up beside Oro. The slim boy on the golden horse shotthe Kentuckian a shoulder-side look and grinned, raising his quirt insalute as Drew nodded and smiled back.

  Some of the noise died. _Don_ Lorenzo pointed a pistol skyward. Drewstrove to make his body one with Shiloh's small easy movements. The biggray knew very well what was in progress, was tensing now for a swiftgetaway leap. And he made it on the crack of the gun.

  But if Shiloh had easily outdistanced all opposition before on thoseimprovised tracks, he was now meeting a far more equal race. The graycolt's stride was effortless, he was pounding out with power--more thanDrew had ever known him to exert. Yet those golden legs matched his pace,reach for reach, hoofbeat for hoofbeat.

  "Come on, boy!" Drew's urging was lost in the wild shouting of thespectators. Some who were mounted were trying to parallel the runners. ButShiloh responded to his rider's encouragement even if he could not hear orunderstand. Drew would never use quirt or spur on the stud. What
Shilohhad to give must come willingly and because he delighted in the giving.

  They swept in and around the shade of the tree, made the arc to return.That golden head with its tossing crown of black forelock; it _was_slipping back! Oro was no longer nose to nose with Shiloh, rather now noseto neck. Drew could hear Rivas' voice encouraging, pleading....

  A mass of men, mounted and on foot, funneled the runners down to where theline of rope lay straight to mark the finish. Oro was creeping up oncemore, inch by hard-won inch.

  Drew's head went up, his throat was rasped raw by the Yell which had takendesperate gray-coated troopers down hedge-bordered roads in Kentucky andsteep ravines in Tennessee, sending them, if need be, straight into themouths of Yankee field guns. And the Yell brought Shiloh home, only a noseahead of his rival--as if he had been spurred by the now outlawed war cry.Then Drew found he had his hands full trying to pull up the colt andpersuade him that the race was indeed over.