The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

took me a piece of them—easy pickin’s.” The sneer was plainer in his voice than it had been in his smile.
    Drew’s puzzlement grew. Why was Shannon leaning on him this way? Because he had stepped in to stop the quirting of Teodoro? That was the only reason the Kentuckian could think of.
    “That’s a matter of opinion.” Topham was studying them both with interest. “I’d say Oro has him some real competition at last. None of the Eclipse blood was ever backward on the track.”
    “You ridin’ yourself?” Shannon paid no attention to the gambler’s comment.
    Drew nodded. “He knows me, and I ride light—”
    “Sure, I suppose you do—now.” Shannon’s eyes flickered again, this time to the locked cupboard. “Heard tell—leastways Callie’s been spoutin’ it around—that you was with General Forrest.”
    “Yes.”
    “You sure musta pulled outta th’ war better’n th’ rest of us poor Rebs. Got you a couple of blooded hosses an’ a good heavy money belt. A sight more luck than th’ rest of us had—”
    “Don’t include yourself in the empty-pocket brigade, Johnny,” Topham rapped out. “I don’t see you going without eating money, drinking money either, more’s a pity. And if you’re really looking for Rennie now, you’ll find him down at the course.”
    Shannon’s smile was gone. He straightened away from the door frame which had been supporting his shoulders. “Thanks a lot, Reese.”He left with the same abruptness as he had from the stable alley.
    “So you’re riding yourself.” Topham ignored the departure. “León Rivas, Bartolomé’s son, will be up on Oro; he always rides for Rennie. He’s younger than you, but I’d say”—the gambler studied Drew’s lithe body critically—“you’re about matched in weight. I’d shuck that gun belt, though, and anything else you can. And good luck, Kirby. You’ll need all of it you can muster.”
    An hour later Drew followed Topham’s advice, leaving gun belt, carbine, and everything else he could unload in Callie’s keeping before he swung up on Shiloh. The big colt was nervous, tending to dance sideways, tossing his head high. Drew concentrated on the business at hand, striving to forget the crowd opening up to let him through, shouting encouragement or disparagement. Ahead was the appointed track, a beaten stretch of earth, part of the old road leading to the mines. The Kentuckian talked to Shiloh as they went, keeping up a stream of words to firm the bond between horse and rider.
    There was a knot of men surrounding the golden horse, and as his rider mounted, Oro put on a good show, rearing to paw the air with his forefeet as if he wished nothing better than to meet his gray rival in an impromptu boxing match. Then he nodded his head vigorously, acknowledging the shouts from his enthusiastic supporters. Beside that magnificent blaze of color Shiloh was drab, a shadow about to be put to flight by the sun.
    They were to break at a starting shot, head to the big tree which made an excellent landmark in the flat valley, rounding its patch of shade before returning to the starting point. Drew brought Shiloh, still prancing and playing with his bit, up beside Oro. The slim boy on the golden horse shot the Kentuckian a shoulder-side look and grinned, raising his quirt in salute as Drew nodded and smiled back.
    Some of the noise died. Don Lorenzo pointed a pistol skyward. Drew strove to make his body one with Shiloh’s small easy movements. The big gray knew very well what was in progress, was tensing now for a swift getaway leap. And he made it on the crack of the gun.
    But if Shiloh had easily outdistanced all opposition before on those improvised tracks, he was now meeting a far more equal race. The gray colt’s stride was effortless, he was pounding out with power—more than Drew had ever known him to exert. Yet those golden legs matched his pace, reach for reach, hoofbeat for hoofbeat.
    “Come on, boy!” Drew’s urging was lost in the wild shouting of the spectators. Some who were mounted were trying to parallel the runners. But Shiloh responded to his rider’s encouragement even if he could not hear or understand. Drew would never use quirt or spur on the stud. What Shiloh had to give must come willingly and because he delighted in the giving.
    They swept in and around the shade of the tree, made the arc to return. That golden head with its tossing crown of black forelock; it was slipping back! Oro was no