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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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‘yours’ or ‘mine’ about it! Or don’t you think back that far?”
    Anse laughed. “All right, compadre , pretty me up like a new stake rope on a thirty-dollar pony. If I don’t agree, likely you’ll trip up m’ foreleg an’ reshoe me anyway. Right now—I’ll say it out good’n clear—I’m so pore m’ backbone rattles when I cough.”
    “Mistuh Kirby—” Hamilcar came in. “Mistuh Nye says to tell you he’ll be back. Mistuh Shannon’s in bed at th’ doctuh’s; he’s gonna be all right soon’s he gets ovah a mighty big headache.”
    He had actually forgotten Shannon! Hastily Drew expressed his satisfaction at the news and added:
    “This is my cousin from Texas, Hamilcar. He hit town ridin’ light. I’m goin’ over to pick him up a new outfit at Stein’s. You give him all the rest, will you?”
    “Yes, suh.”
    Blue blouses—a corporal’s guard of troopers—were pulling up by the cantina hitch rail as Drew came out into the plaza. Muller’s men probably, he thought. But now he was more intent on Anse’s needs.
    Few people had ever broken through the crust of self-sufficiency the Kentuckian had begun to grow in early childhood. His grandfather’s bitter hatred of his father had made Drew an outsider at Red Springs from birth and had finally driven him away to join General Morgan in ’62. Those he had ever cared about he could list on the fingers of one sun-browned, rein-hardened hand: Cousin Meredith; her son Shelly—he had died at Chickamauga between one short breath and the next—Shelly’s younger brother Boyd, who had run away to join Morgan, too, in the sunset of the raider’s career; and Anse, whom he had believed dead until this past hour.
    Drew was breathing as fast as if he had charged across the sun-baked plaza at a run, when he came into the general store which supplied Tubacca with nine-tenths of the materials necessary for frontier living. He made his selection with care.
    “You planning a trip, Mister Kirby?” Stein peered at him over a pair of old-fashioned, steel-bowed spectacles which perched on his sharp parrot’s beak of a nose.
    “No. My cousin just rode in; he lost his gear on the road and needs a new outfit complete.”
    Stein nodded, patted smooth the top shirt on a growing pile. “Anything else?”
    “Add those up. I’ll look around.” Drew paused to glance into the single small, glass-fronted case which was Stein’s claim to fame in the surrounding territory. The exotic wares on display were a strange mixture: a few pieces of jewelry, heavy Spanish things which might be a century or more old, several six-guns—one with an ornate ivory handle.… Drew stopped and pulled a finger across the dusty surface of the glass case. Spurs—silver spurs—not quite so elaborate as those he now wore, but of the same general workmanship.
    “I’d like to look at those spurs.”
    Stein unlocked the case and took them out. As Drew unstrapped those he wore and fitted the new pair to his boots, a brown, calf-bound book thudded to the floor. Books—here in Stein’s?
    Weighing the volume in his hand, the Kentuckian straightened up. There were two more books lying on the top of the case. The leather bindings were scuffed and one was scored clear across the back, yet they had been handsome, undoubtedly treasured. Drew turned them up to read the scrolled gold titles on their spines.
    “ History of the Conquest of Mexico , The Three Musketeers, The Count of Monte Cristo …Where’d these come from, Mister Stein?” Drew’s curiosity was aroused.
    “That is a story almost as fanciful as the ones inside them.” Stein rested his bony elbows on the counter as he talked. “Would you believe, Mister Kirby, these were brought to me by Amos Lutterfield?”
    “Lutterfield? Who’s he?”
    “I forget, you have not been in Tubacca long. Amos Lutterfield—he is what one might term a character, a strange one. He goes out into the wilds alone, seeking always the gold.”
    “In Apache country?” Drew demanded.
    “The Apaches, they do not touch a man they believe insane, and Amos has many peculiarities: peculiarities of dress, of speech, of action. He roams undisturbed, sometimes coming in with relics from the old cliff houses to trade for supplies. Last month he told me a story of a cave where he found a trunk. Where it had come from or why it was hidden he did not know, but these books were in it. Like some men who have no formal education, Amos is highly

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