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It took only a minute to get down the ladder into Shadow’s stall where a broom tail jiggled up and down above absurdly long baby legs and small rounded haunches. Shadow’s small daughter breakfasted. Callie squatted on his heels near-by watching the process benignly. "Ain’t she ’bout th’ best-favored filly you ever saw?" he asked. "How come all your hosses is grays? Shiloh her pa?"
"Only you plan to go out an’ spit in th’ shadow’s eye?" "Guess so." "Then there’ll be two of us. Providin’ Rennie can use him ’nother hand. You know, this might be interestin’. ’Member what they used to say in the army? Don’t go borrowin’ trouble nor try to cross a river till you git th’ water lappin’ at your boots." "Times is gittin’ better."
Cover one hand with a white and the other with a black piece of cloth, and hold both for a short time in the direct rays of the sun. Stand a book or a block of wood by the side of an empty pan in the sunlight, so that the end of the shadow falls on the bottom of the pan. Mark the place where the shadow terminates and fill the pan with water. Account for the shadow’s becoming shorter.
"But I’m not sellin’." Drew folded the piece of paper he had been waving to dry the ink and put it back in the belt pocket. "What’s that?" He could almost believe he heard an army bugle, but the call it sounded was unlike any cavalry signal he had known. Callie was already on his way to the door. "Wagon train’s comin’!" he cried as he ran out. Drew lingered by Shadow’s box.
“His name?” cried the King, Prince Radiance and the Princess, in one voice. “His name?” cried Creeping Shadow beseechingly. “Sire, it is your nephew, Prince Ember,” declared the Wise One. “He it is who is fated to set her free.” From all those who had waited in breathless suspense for his answer, there burst a murmur of intense relief. Creeping Shadow’s heart beat quick with joy.
Topham spoke from where he was leaning against the wall of Shadow’s box stall. "Johnny was throwing his weight around again last night. Had a set-to in the Jacks with a trooper. Unless the kid quits trying to fight the war over again every time he sees an army blouse—or until he stops pouring whisky down him every time he hits town—there may be shooting trouble.
Princess White Flame laid a consoling hand upon Creeping Shadow’s shoulder. “Wait but a moment,” she told her. “The Wise One has great knowledge, great wisdom. No magic is hid from him. Somewhere there must be one who can bring succor to your mistress. The Wise One will know of him, and can tell us where he may be found.”
Kells had been as good as his promise, Drew noted. Mother and child had had expert attention, and Shadow’s coat had been groomed to a glossy silk; her black mane and tail were rippling satin ribbons. "Gonna take ’em back to th’ Range with you, Mister Kirby?" Callie came down from the loft. "Yes. I’ll need a cart and driver though. We’ll have to give the foal a lift. Know anyone for hire, Callie?"
"You look like you came up behind a mule an’ the critter did a mite of dancin’ backwards! You come ’long, too," he extended the invitation to include Anse. His face patched up after a fashion, Drew lay full length on the hay in his old place over Shadow’s stall back at Kells’ stable. Anse sat crosslegged beside him, the bruise now a black shadow on his jaw.
"Mister Kells, he keeps ledgers over in th’ tack room. Got some ink an’ a pen there. How come you need that? You ain’t makin’ out no bill of sale on her already, are you?" Callie was shocked. "Hardly. Just want to put her down right and proper on the tally sheet." The boy followed to watch Drew make the record on the margin of Shadow’s papers.
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