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Updated: June 1, 2025
It is bad, that ground, high, steep—but with care one can reach a ledge. And along that one can go to look down into the next canyon. A good place for horses—there is water and grass. I stayed there watching with the glasses Don Cazar gave my father, the glasses which bring the far close.
And there was the permanent stamp of uncertain temper in the lines about his prominent eyes. "So, you see me, Bayliss," Don Cazar returned evenly. "There is some trouble?" Bartolomé shifted from one foot to the other, his spurs ringing. Don Lorenzo’s expression was one of withdrawal, but on the round countenance of the Mexican was open dislike. The sun-reddened skin flushed darker.
When th’ Yankee boys from Californy came marchin’ in an’ th’ Rebs had to skedaddle—Johnny, he went with ’em. Didn’t see Johnny round here agin till last fall when he came ridin’ in lookin’ mighty beat out an’ down in th’ mouth. But when th’ Union men came, they was thinkin’ th’ same ’bout Don Cazar. Wanted him to jump right in an’ swim ’longside o’ them.
Was there a raid, th’ major, he took out th’ troops; and Don Cazar, he took out his riders an’ th’ Pimas. ’Tween ’em they give everybody wot wanted a spot of trouble all they could chew off an’ a lot more’n they could swallow. Kept things quiet even if a man hadda rest his hand on his rifle ’bout twenty-four hours outta every day.
His pride in the colt had been pushing him toward such a trial ever since he had heard Fenner speak of Oro. In addition, as the owner of a noted horse, he would take a place in this community, establish his identity as Drew Kirby. And in some way he could not define, this put him, at least in his own mind, on an equal footing with Don Cazar.
"We’ll have a delivery of remounts to make to the camp about then. You can help haze those in and pick up your own stock on return." León appeared in the doorway. "Don Cazar, the mesteneoes—they arrive." "Good. These people are the real wild-horse experts, Kirby. Not much the Trinfans don’t know about horses." Don Cazar was already on his way to the door and Drew fell in behind Bartolomé.
That would mean putting off traveling until next spring or early summer. But six months ... Of course, he could go now. Don Cazar would buy the foal and Shadow, too, and give him a fair price. That would be relinquishing a dream. No Spur R brand would ever be established here in Arizona. But sometimes dreams were priced too high....
Oliveri gave what sounded to Drew like an exaggerated sigh. "Señor, you have spoiled my day. How can one look at lesser animals when one has seen such a treasure? Don Cazar, the Range harbors so many treasures—Oro, and now this one. How is he named, señor?" "Shiloh." "Shiloh ..." The Coronel made a sibilant hiss of the word. "An Indio name?" "No, a battle." Drew prepared to lead out. "In the war."
"Why do I stay, suh?" Anse protested when Don Cazar had finished. "You can tend that arm better on the ground than in the saddle." "Ain’t no hurt there any more." Anse hurriedly pulled it from the sling. "Anyways, that ain’t m’ shootin’ hand, neither!" But one look at Hunt Rennie’s face reduced him to muttering. Drew watched their preparations quietly.
Ain’t no army gonna pull ’em out an’ make ’em fight white-man style. "Don Cazar—he goes huntin’ ’em when they’ve come botherin’ him an’ does it right. But he knows you think Injun, you live Injun, you eat Injun, you smell Injun when you do. They don’t leave no more trail than an ant steppin’ high, ’less they want you should foller them into a nice ambush as they has all figgered out.
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