The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

respectful of the printed word. He thought the books of great value and so brought them here.”
    Drew opened the top volume. Back home books as well bound as these would have carried a personal bookplate or at least the written name of the owner, but the fly leaf was bare. They had the look of well-read, cherished volumes but no mark of possession.
    “You have perhaps read these?” Stein asked.
    Drew picked up The Three Musketeers . “Not likely to forget this one,” he said, grinning. “Earned me a good ten with the cane when I read it instead of dealing faithfully with Caesar’s campaigns in Gaul. I did get to finish it before I was caught out.” The pages separated stiffly under his exploring fingers as if the volume had not been opened for a long time. He did not notice that Stein was eyeing him with new appraisal.
    “These for sale?”
    “In Stein’s everything is for sale.” The storekeeper named a price, and Drew bargained. When he left, the three books reposed on the top of his armload of clothing, and a half hour later he dropped them down on a cantina table. Anse came from the bathhouse and sat down in the opposite chair. His booted foot moved, but now rowel points flashed in the sun. The Texan regarded the Mexican spurs joyfully, stooped to jingle them with his finger tip.
    “Can’t believe it…how they came back to you,” he marveled. “One of them Yankees musta took ’em off me, thinkin’ I was cashin’ in m’ chips. Sure feels good to git ’em back on my heels agin, sorta like they was m’ luck. Pa, he set a right lot by them spurs. Gave ’em to me when I gentle broke a wild one none o’ th’ other boys could back. Was I turkey-cock proud th’ first day I rode into town with ’em playin’ pretty tunes, even though I strapped ’em on over boots as was only three pieces of leather hangin’ to each other restless like. Yeah, Pa, he got ’em in the Mexican War, an’ me, I wore ’em mostly through this past ruckus. They’s sure seen a lotta history bein’ made by men climbin’ up an’ down from saddles!”
    “Let’s hope…no more wars.” Drew set the three books in a pile and regarded them attentively. Stein’s story of their origin—out of a trunk hidden in a desert cave—was most intriguing. What else had been in that trunk?
    “Anse,” he asked, “why would anyone hide a trunk in a cave?” “Might depend on what wasin it,” the Texan replied promptly.
    “Well, these were—”
    Anse took up the top book. His finger traced each word as he read. “ The Three Mus—Musketeers. Whatever kinda critter is that?”
    “A soldier. They used to have them over in France a long time ago.”
    “Army manual, eh? Maybe so the trunk was an army cache—”
    Drew shook his head. “No, this is just a story. A good one with lots of prime fightin’ in it. This one’s a story, too. I’ve heard about it…never got a chance to read it though.” He set The Count of Monte Cristo upright on the table. Anse took the third volume.
    “… Con—Conquest of Mexico . Hey, conquest means winnin’ th’ country, don’t it? This about the Mex War which our pa’s fought?” He flicked open the pages eagerly.
    “No, the earlier one—when the Spanish came in under Cortés and broke up the Aztec empire…back in the 1500’s.”
    “Kinda stiff readin’…looks interestin’ though.” Anse gave his verdict. “We had us two books. Pa learned us to read outta them. One was th’ Bible Ma brought long when she was married. T’other—that sure was kinda queer how we got that. Pa was in th’ Rangers, an’ he had this run-in with some Comanches—” Anse’s eyes were suddenly bleak, and Drew remembered the few stark sentences the Texan had once spoken to explain his reason for being in the army—a return to a frontier ranch to find nothing left, nothing he wanted to remember, after the Comanches had swept across the countryside.
    “Well,” Anse broke that short pause, “Pa shot him one big buck as was ridin’ straight into th’ Ranger line, wantin’ to count one o’ them coups by whangin’ some white man personal with his lance, or some such foolishness. This buck had him a war shield an’ Pa picked it up when all th’ smoke blew away. What’d’ you think that there shield was packed with? Well, this one had a book all tore apart an’ stuffed in between th’ front an’ back layers of hide. Th’ boys in th’ company, they got right interested in sortin’