The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

which had been theirs clear from Texas.
    Minutes later her owner was rubbing down the fretful Shadow, murmuring the soothing words to quiet her. The lean, gray-haired man who had ushered them into the stable stood eyeing the mare’s distended sides.
    “I’d say, young fellow, you didn’t git her here a mite too soon, no, siree. She’s due right quick. Carryin’ a blood foal, I’m thinkin’—”
    “Yes. How soon? Tonight?”
    Tobe Kells made a quick examination. The mare, after a first nervous start, stood easy under his sure and gentle hands. “Late, maybe. First foal?”
    “Yes.” Her owner hesitated and then added, “You give me a hand with her?”
    “You bet, son. She’s a pretty thing, an’ she’s been a far piece, I’d say. Now you looky here, boy—you sure look like you could take some curryin’ an’ corn fodder under your belt too. You git over to th’ Four Jacks. Topham’s got him a Chinee cookin’ there who serves up th’ best danged grub in this here town. Fill up your belly an’ take some ease. Then if we do have this little lady gittin’ us up tonight, you’ll be ready for it. I’ll see t’ th’ stud an’ th’ mule. That colt’s not a wild one.” Kells surveyed Shiloh knowingly. “No, I seed he was gentle-trained when you come in.” He ran his hand down Shiloh’s shoulder, touched the brand. “Spur R? That ain’t no outfit I heard tell of before.”
    “From Eastern…Texas—” That much was true. All three animals had been given the brand in the small Texas town where the wagon train had assembled. And perhaps this was the time when he should begin building up the backgroundone Drew Kirby must present to Tubacca, Arizona Territory. “All right, I’ll go eat.” He picked up his saddlebags. “You’ll call me if—”
    “Sure, son. Say, I don’t rightly know your name.…”
    “Drew Kirby.”
    “Wal, sure, Kirby, Tobe Kells is a man o’ his word. Iffen there’s any reason to think you’ll be needed, I’ll send Callie along for you. Callie!”
    At Kells’ hail a boy swung down the loft ladder. He was wiry thin, with a thick mop of sun-bleached hair and a flashing grin. At the sight of Shiloh and Shadow he whistled.
    “Now ain’t they th’ purtiest things?” he inquired of the stable at large. “’Bout th’ best stock we’ve had here since th’ last time Don Cazar brought in a couple o’ hissen. Where’ll I put your plunder, mister?” He was already loosing Croaker’s pack. “You be stayin’ over to th’ Jacks?”
    Drew glanced up at the haymow from which Callie had just descended. “Any reason why I can’t bunk up there?” he asked Kells.
    “None ’tall, Kirby, none ’tall. Know you want to be handy like. Stow that there gear up above, Callie, an’ don’t you drop nothin’. Rest yourself easy, son. These here hosses is goin’ to be treated jus’ like th’ good stuff they is.”
    “Croaker, also.” Drew stopped by the mule, patted the long nose, gave a flip to the limp ear. “He’s good stuff, too—served in the cavalry.…”
    Kells studied the young man by the mule. Cavalry saddle on the stud, two Colt pistols belted high and butt forward, and that military cord on his hat—army boots, too. The liveryman knew the signs. This was not the first veteran to drift into Tubacca; he wouldn’t be the last either. Seems like half of both them armies back east didn’t want to go home an’ sit down peaceful like now that they was through wi’ shootin’ at each other. No, siree, a right big herd o’ ’em was trailin’ out here. An’ he thought he could put name to the color of coat this young’un had had on his back, too. Only askin’ more than a man volunteered to tell, that warn’t neither manners nor wise.
    “He gits th’ best, too, Kirby.” Kells shifted a well-chewed tobacco cud from one cheek to the other.
    He could trust Kells, Drew thought. A little of his concern over Shadow eased. He shouldered the saddlebags and made his way back down the alley, beginning to see the merit in the liveryman’s suggestions. Food—and a bath! What he wouldn’t give for a bath! Hay to sleep on was fine; he had had far worse beds during the past four years. But a hot bath to be followed by a meal which was not the jerky, corn meal, bitter coffee of trail cooking! His pace quickened into a trot but slackened again as he neared the Four Jacks and remembered all the precautions he must take in Tubacca.
    In the big room of the