Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 29, 2025
It had never mattered to an Apache whether a man rode on the north or south side of the law—if his skin was white, that automatically made him prey. Drew said so now. Teodoro answered that. "Apaches want guns, señor. Their arrows are deadly, but guns are always better." "I’d think," Anse cut in, "that any guns Kitchell’d have he’d be hangin’ on to—needin’ them his ownself.
Anse was on his feet, had taken two steps in the direction of the soldier. Drew jumped after him, trying to assess the situation even as his hand closed restrainingly on the Texan’s shoulder. There were four troopers. Wide grins on the faces of the three still against the bar suggested they were ready to back their companion in any form of horseplay he intended to try.
An’ Danny waded in jus’ to keep that one"—the boy pointed straight at Drew—"offa Helms. That’s what happened. Th’ boys didn’t mean no harm—jus’ havin’ a little fun—when these Rebs jumped ’em!" Drew pulled up his neckerchief and dabbed at his cut lip. Anse had subsided, though he was still watching the sergeant with an unrelenting gaze.
"Pa had him a spread down near th’ San Sabe ’fore th’ Comanches came. He was 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. He rode with Lieutenant Miggs in the Mex War." Hunt Rennie was smiling.
So here he was now—just where Bayliss had promised to see him—in an army detention cell, with no proof of identity and the circumstantial evidence against him piling up by the minute. All they needed was some definite proof to tie him to Kitchell and he was lost. He had to pin his hopes on Anse—and Don Cazar. Drew ground his boot heel into the dirt floor.
"Don’t look like they was so tough they had to sneak up on th’ dipper to take a drink, do they now?" Donally asked of the room at large. "Don’t never judge no hoss by his coat an’ curryin’," Anse retorted. "I don’t, son. I never do," Nye replied. "As far as I’m concerned, you’re both so wild they have to tie a foot up when they give you a haircut.
There were a lot of shadows this close to twilight. Lamps twinkled in the Stronghold. 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!"
There was no answer from the hidden picket or sentry if he were still there. Then Hannibal paced down the slope. "The Calhoun place?" Kirby asked. Hannibal stumbled, and Boyd cried out, the cry becoming a moan. "Yes. Anse ..." Drew added dully, "do you know ... this was his birthday today. I just remembered."
Fenner pulled up Tar, flung up his hand to signal the wagons to a halt. Dust rolled in a cloud with two or three riders at its center. They were pushing the pace all right. Drew jerked his carbine from its saddle boot, saw Anse beat him to that action by a scant second or two. But the newcomers were already drawing rein, bringing their foam-lathered horses to a pawing stop.
Earlier even, at the Councils of Charroux , Narbonne , Le Puy and Anse , severe penalties were pronounced against those who wantonly in time of war destroyed the poor man's cattle or harried his fields, or carried off his beasts of burden. "Leagues of Peace" were formed to diminish the horrors of war, to protect the helpless, to enforce order.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking