The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

long way if that’s where he started.”
    “I’ll go get Hamilcar. He knows somethin’ ’bout doctorin’,” Fowler cut in. “Maybe Doc Matthews ain’t here, after all.”
    “Hey, Sarge, can I see you a minute?” came a hail from without.
    “You manage.” Muller made it more order than request as he left.
    Drew sat alone with Shannon, one hand on the boy’s shoulder to steady him. He was aware of movement behind him. If the fellow at the back table had been dozing earlier, he was roused now.
    “Where did you git them spurs?”
    Drew turned, his lips shaped a name, tried again, and got it out as a hoarse whisper. “Anse! Don’t you know me, Anse?”
    He saw eyes lift from the floor level, the scarred cheek under a ragged fringe of beard; and then astonishment in the other’s expression became a flashing grin.
    “Drew—Drew Rennie! Lordy, it’s sure enough Drew Rennie!”
    Drew was on his feet. His hands on the other’s shoulders pulled him forward into a rough half embrace. “Anse!” He swayed to the joyous pounding of a fist between his shoulder blades. “I thought you were dead!” he somehow gasped.
    “An’ I seen you go down; a slug got you plumb center!” the Texan sputtered. “Rolled ’round a bush an’ saw you git it! But for a ghost you’re sure lively!”
    “Caught me in the belt buckle,” Drew recounted that miracle of the war. “Knocked me out; didn’t really touch to matter, though.”
    Anse pushed away a little, still holding Drew tightly by the upper arms. “Anybody told me I’d see Drew Rennie live an’ kickin’, I’d said straight to his face he was a fork-tongued liar!”
    Drew came partly to his senses and the present. Fowler…Nye…either one of them could come back on this reunion. “Anse—listen! This is important. I ain’t Drew Rennie—not here, not now—”
    “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. But the stare was unfocused; he must still be only half conscious. Drew had a fleeting prick of worry. Had Shannon heard anything he would remember? There was nothing to be done about that now.
    CHAPTER 7
    “…and that’s the way it is.” Drew sat on the stool which was the only other furnishing in the bath cubicle while Anse splashed and wallowed in the slab tub.
    The Texan swiped soap from his cheek. “An’ ain’t yougonna tell?”
    “I don’t know. Would you?”
    “Go with m’ hat in hand an’ say, ‘Well, Pa, here’s your wanderin’ boy’? No, I dunno as how I’d be makin’ that kinda play neither. Never was one to unspool th’ bedroll till I was sure o’ th’ brand I was ridin’ for. An’ you an’ me’s kinda hide-matched there. Glad you wised me up in time.”
    “Maybe I didn’t,” Drew admitted.
    “You mean that Shannon? I know you think he’s filin’ his teeth for you, but I’d say he was too busy countin’ stars from that skull beltin’ to make sense out of our hurrawin’. I’ll give him th’ eye though. Lissen now, you’re Kirby—so am I called for a rebrandin’, too? Seems like two Kirbys turnin’ up in a town this size is gonna make a few people ask some questions.”
    “You’re my cousin—Anson Kirby.” Drew had already thought that out. “Now, you’ve some tall talkin’ to do your ownself. I saw you roll out of your saddle back in Tennessee. How come you turn up here and now?”
    Anse sluiced water over his head and shoulders with cupped hands.
    “Do I tell it jus’ like it happened, you’ll think I’m callin’ up mountains outta prairie-dog hills, it’s that crazy. But it’s range truth. Yeah, I landed outta that saddle on some mighty hard ground. If you’ll remember, I had me a hole in the shoulder big enough to let th’ wind whistle through. I rolled between th’ bushes jus’ in time to see you get it—plumb center an’ final, so I thought. Then…well, I don’t remember too good for a while. Next time I was able to take a real interest I was lyin’ on a bed with about a mountain of quilts on top me, weaker’n a yearlin’ what’s jus’ been dragged outta a bog hole. Seems like them Yankees gathered me up