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"You have come to back your horse, señor?" Don Lorenzo smiled up at Drew. There were piles of coins on the table as Cahill listed bets for the men crowding around. "Yes, suh." Drew spun down two double eagles. "What’re the odds?" "Started six to one for Oro," Topham told him. "Coasted down after a few of the boys had a look at Shiloh. Can give you four to one now. Anything else we can do for you?"
"The man who says Teodoro Trinfan is ladrón—bad one—him I kill!" Drew’s left arm swept out across the boy’s chest, pinning him back against the stable. "Now, what’s your story?" the Kentuckian asked the man he fronted. "An’ jus’ what’s all this smokin’ ’bout?" Kells came out. "You, Shannon, what’re you doin’ here? Been drinkin’ again, fightin’, too, by th’ look of you." "Señor Kells."
What’re Kitchell, Rennie, Topham to you that you’re willing to face a noose for them?" "Kitchell I know nothin’ about—except what I’ve heard and that’s not good." Drew sat down on the bunk, partly because the chill which had crept down his back had poured into his legs and they felt oddly weak under him. "Reese Topham and Mr. Rennie—as far as I’m concerned they’re honest men.
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