Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 1, 2025
Right now they’ve a lot to be topped—want to gentle ’em some and trade ’em south into Mexico. If you ride for Don Cazar, nobody’s goin’ to ask too many questions." "How d’you know he’ll sign me on?" Anse studied his own unkempt if now clean reflection in the shaving mirror on the wall. "I sure don’t look like no bargain." "You will when we’re through with you," Drew began. The Texan swung around.
Seeming to realize he was free of the pole walls, the black exploded in a burst of speed which was close to Shiloh’s racing spurt. Drew let him go. Three-quarters of an hour later he rode back, the black blowing foam, but answering the rein. He found Don Cazar, Bartolomé, and Hilario Trinfan waiting for him by the corral.
"Not on any real track, señor. During the war there were no races." "He wasn’t a cavalry mount?" Don Cazar looked surprised. "No, suh. Too young for that. He was foaled on April sixth in sixty-two. That’s why they called him Shiloh." There was a moment of silence, broken by a hail from the door. "You there—Rennie!"
Had he been with us when the wild ones stampeded, my father would not walk crooked, but we got him back to the ranch too late. But that is not what I would say. It was Christmas and Don Cazar gave to me a rope like that of Juanito, a fine rope which felt as if it was a part of a man’s own arm when he swung it. Two days later, that rope, it was gone, never did I find it.
"Till they began to discover nothin’ much goes on round here lessen Don Cazar has a finger in th’ pot. An’ they had to swaller a lotta them hot an’ hasty words—stuck heavy in quite a few craws, I reckon." Fenner grinned. "Only, th’ Don, he’s got agin him now a big list of little men who’d like to be big chiefs. Every once in a while they gits together an’ makes war talk.
Don Cazar was seated at a table as massive as the chests, a pile of papers before him flanked by two four-branch candelabra of native silver. Bartolomé Rivas’ more substantial bulk weighed down the rawhide seat of another chair more to one side. "Sit down—" Rennie nodded to the seat in front of the table. "Smoke?" He pushed forward a silver box holding the long cigarillos of the border country.
Drew refused several offers for the colt, some of them so fantastic he could only believe their makers sun-touched or completely carried away by the excitement of the race. But when he found Don Cazar waiting for him at Kells’, he guessed that this was serious. "You do not wish to sell him, I suppose?" Hunt Rennie smiled at Drew’s prompt shake of head.
But they will be at the pass and there they will stay." "Why?" "I think they will lay a trap for the raiders. There has been no sign that they trail now behind driven horses. Don Cazar does not pursue; he rides to cut off the road to Mexico. Kitchell’s men, they would not take the open Sonora trail, that is folly for them. So they travel one ridden by men with a price on their heads.
Anse’s tone was offhand, he might have been discussing the weather. "Don Cazar decides," Bartolomé said. "There is work at the corrals, but he will decide." "Fair enough," Anse agreed. When Bartolome had moved out of hearing, he added for Drew’s benefit: "I think it’d be ’no’ if that hombre had th’ sayin’. He plumb don’t like my style."
A man has it, and the horse always knows, answers to it. Ride with me, señor, and try that gift on the wild ones!" "Someday—" That was true. Someday Drew did want to ride after the wild ones. Anse’s stories of horse hunting on the Texas plains had first stirred that desire. Now it was fully awake in him. Don Cazar inspected the black closely. "Well, Bartolomé, what have you to say now?"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking