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The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

Titel: The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Andre Norton
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Jacks. This time the cantina was filled, with a double row of the thirsty demanding attention at the bar. But Topham was seated at a table with Don Lorenzo and Zack Cahill of the stage line. The Kentuckian went over to them.
    “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?”
    Drew dropped his voice. “Do you have a safe here?”
    Topham’s eyebrows climbed. “Do you foresee a deposit or a withdrawal?”
    “Deposit. I want to ride light today.”
    “Then I’ll admit possession of a safe, such as it is. Don Lorenzo, por favor , will you act as banker?” He beckoned Drew after him into a small back room which was in sharp contrastto the main part of the Four Jacks.
    On one wall was a fanned display of old daggers and swords which dated a century or so back to the Spanish colonial days. A bookcase crammed with tightly squeezed volumes provided a resting place for pieces of native pottery bearing grotesque animal designs. On the far wall were strips of brightly colored woven materials flanking a huge closed cupboard, a very old one, Drew thought. Its paneled front was carved with deeply incised patterns centering about a shield bearing arms. Only the battered desk and an attendant chair with a laced rawhide seat were of the frontier.
    Topham took a chained key from the pocket of his fancy vest and went to fit it into a lock concealed in the carved foliage of the cupboard. The shield split down the middle, revealing shelves of metal boxes and packets of papers. Drew unfastened his money belt and handed it over. As he was tucking his shirt in his belt once more the gambler nodded at the cupboard.
    “This is about as near a bank as we boast in Tubacca. Cahill has a strongbox at the stage station, and Stein some kind of a lockup at his store—that’s the total for the town. We haven’t grown to the size for a real banking establishment—”
    “Hey, Reese, th’ Old Man about—?”
    Shannon was in the doorway. In the full light of day he looked younger. Drew was puzzled. That strange animosity which had flashed between them last night—why had he felt it? There was nothing like that emotion now. But as Johnny Shannon’s gaze flitted from Topham to the Kentuckian, Drew was once more aware that, whatever he might outwardly seem, Johnny Shannon was no boy. Behind that disarmingly youthful façade was another person altogether.
    “Kirby, ain’t it?” Shannon smiled. “Understand I got outta line th’ other night…stepped on a lotta toes.” That gaze flickered for the merest instant to the Colts at the Kentuckian’s belt. “I sure had me a real snootful an’ I guess I was jus’ fightin’ th’ war all over again. No hard feelin’s?”
    That guileless confession was very convincing on the surface. How did you assess an emotion you did not understand yourself? Drew was teased by a fleeting memory of the past, of a time when he had faced another pair of eyes such as those, surface eyes behind which you could see nothing. Then he became conscious that the pause was too lengthy, and he replied with a hurry he immediately regretted:
    “No hard feelin’s.”
    This time he was able to recognize the meaning of that quirk of Shannon’s lips. But prudence controlled the small flare of temper he felt inside him. It did not really matter. Let Shannon think he was backing down. If the time ever came that they did have to have a showdown, Johnny Shannon might be the surprised one.
    “You’re sure a trustin’ fella.” Shannon’s fingers hooked to the front of the gun belt riding low on the hip. “Not askin’ for no receipt or nothin’.…”
    Topham laughed. “We don’t forget what is due a customer, Johnny.” He went to the desk, scribbled a line on a piece of paper, and held it out to Drew. “This should meet all contingencies, such as some patron out there getting downright ornery and putting a couple of extra buttonholes in my vest by the six-gun slug method.”
    “Heard tell as how you’re fixin’ to race your plug ’gainst Oro, Kirby,” Johnny drawled. “Also as how you laid down some good round boys to back his chance. I

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