Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
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."
Anse’s horse trotted up, and Drew was suddenly aware that the trailer of the last wagon had already pulled past him. He tightened rein, and the well-trained horse broke into a canter. "Not hardly." He tried to meet Anse’s attempt at humor halfway. "Don’t look too promisin’."
Pa was in th’ Rangers, an’ he had this run-in with some Comanches—" Anse’s eyes were suddenly bleak, and Drew remembered the few stark sentences the Texan had once spoken to explain his reason for being in the army—a return to a frontier ranch to find nothing left, nothing he wanted to remember, after the Comanches had swept across the countryside.
Drew’s bare and painfully acquired competence with the rope was paired to the Texan’s range training, while Anse’s cruder and faster methods of "toppin’ a wild one" were smoothed by Drew’s more patient gentling process.
"Had to draw a new name outta th’ deck?" Anse’s grin faded; his eyes narrowed. "All right, what’s the goin’ handle?" "Kirby, Drew Kirby ... I’ll explain later." He had given the warning only just in time. Fowler and Hamilcar were coming from the back room of the cantina, and there was a stir at the table. Johnny was sitting up, his head swaying from side to side, his eyes on Drew and Anse.
Th’ stinkin’ polecat of a Reb was gonna draw on you! Told you, they’s all alike. Th’ war ain’t over; we jus’ gotta keep on lickin’ ’em. Give us room, an’ we’ll do it again—now!" Anse’s face was green-white under the weathering, save for the wound on his jaw. He was watching Muller as if the sergeant, rather than his men, was the focal point of any future attack. "You—Stevens—shut your trap!"
He gazed beyond Drew’s shoulder into the world outside the cantina door. "Why would anyone want to store books in a trunk in a cave?" Drew changed the subject quickly to break that unseeing stare. He outlined what Stein had told him, and Anse’s attention was all his again. "Might catch up with this Lutterfield an’ ask a few questions—" "Stein couldn’t get anythin’ out of him.
That was just what he had sworn he would never do—call upon Hunt Rennie for help. Especially now, since the troopers had discovered those army-branded horses back in the canyon and Bayliss would try to use that against Rennie. Anse’s escape had been a short-sighted solution, Drew knew. To the captain such action only tied the Range in deeper.
Drew waved Anse’s retort aside. "I don’t see why we were jumped in the first place. Unless it was because we happened to be here at a time when they wanted to start trouble?" He made that into a question and looked to Topham for the answer. "Could be," the gambler admitted. "Only you’re not sure?" Drew persisted.
But all that was in the forefront of his mind was that last sight of Shiloh following the Pinto to battle. "All right." Drew shifted in Anse’s hold. "It’s all right." Not that it was, but at least that was the best way he could express his return to reason. And the Texan appeared to understand, for his grip loosened. The dust which had blown up an opaque curtain dropped as quickly.
Word Of The Day