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"I tell you again: I’m not going to have Rebs around here passing on information to Kitchell!" "And I say once again, Captain, that men who ride for me do not in addition ride for Kitchell." "Sí—!" Bartolomé’s face was as flushed as Bayliss’ now. "We do not help those bandidos. Do they not also raid us? Two weeks ago Francisco Perez, his horse comes in with blood on the saddle.
"Bayliss come out here two years ago. ’Fore that, Major Kenny, he was in command between here an’ Tucson. Had him an outpost right on th’ edge o’ th’ Range. Him an’ Don Cazar, they never talked no war, ’cept ’gainst Apaches an’ th’ bandidos.
"Well, Texas sure is a great big piece o’ country, so maybe you don’t know ’bout them river tricks. Wet hosses—they’s hosses what is run off up here, driven down to th’ border where they’s swapped for hosses what some Mex bandidos have thrown a sticky loop over. Then th’ Mexes take them Anglo hosses south an’ sell ’em, where their brands ain’t gonna git nobody into noose trouble.
Jared Nye, on Drew’s left, took off his hat and waved a wide-armed signal to answer Greyfeather’s mirror. Two of the Pimas were scouting ahead on this two-day drive, and the Anglo riders were keeping the herd to a trot. Apaches, Kitchell, even bandidos from over the border, could be sniffing about the Range, eyeing its riches, ready to pick up anything left unprotected.
But what I’ve seen of it, were you jus’ able to run off th’ bandidos an’ git th’ Apaches offen it for good—why, it might be a right respectable sorta territory. A man could carve hisself out a spread as he could brag on." "You’d like it?" Anse blew on his fingers again. "Maybe—all things bein’ considered, as they say.
Only this operation was too slick for most bandidos. They don’t go in for timed, planned things; they jus’ cut loose when they see a chance. This was different. Only Fenner an’ some of the train guards ridin’ in spoiled their game." "Kitchell then?" "Sounds more like. Don’t think Kitchell’s some common ridge-ridin’ bad man.
Why, my dear sir, within the last six months Juan Gaian's Lipans have killed no less than seventy of our townsmen, some in their fields, some in the very suburbs of the town, while Mescaleros are raiding a little lower down the river, and Nicanor Rascon is apt to sweep down any day with his bandidos and plunder strong boxes and stores.
Got away ’cause they met th’ wagon train goin’ south an’ whoever was eatin’ their dust 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 save their skins."
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