The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

that, if Kitchell had stocked some hidden canyons with stolen horses, the outlaw leader had left no guards on duty thereabouts. With Running Fox prowling ahead and with him and Anse using all the scout tricks they had learned in war-time, they should be able to learn just how correct Teodoro’s suspicions were.
    CHAPTER 12
    “See, señores, the land lies so.…” Hilario Trinfan’s crooked body pulled together in a lopsided perch as he squatted range fashion beside the morning campfire. He had smoothed a space of ground the width of his two hands and was setting out twigs and stones to create a miniature relief map of the countryside. “Here is the water hole to which the Pinto comes. Above that we were—moving in from this side. To do so we crossed here.” A black-rimmed nail stabbed into the dust.
    “It is then we see the tracks—five ahead—all shod horses, but not ridden, save for one.”
    “Apaches could have been running them,” Drew commented.
    “No.” Trinfan shook his head. “This far from pursuit the Apaches would not have moved so. The Indio, he eats horseflesh. There would have been signs of a fire. Or one of the animals cut down. These horses were being moved with care—not pushed too hard. We trailed them on to here.” Hilario stabbed his finger into the dust again. “Then—Teodoro, now tell them what you saw.”
    The younger mustanger hung over the crude map. “I climbed, señores , up over the rocks. It is bad, that ground, high, steep—but with care one can reach a ledge. And along that one can go to look down into the next canyon. A good place for horses—there is water and grass. I stayed there watching with the glasses Don Cazar gave my father, the glasses which bring the far close. There were poles set up in the rocks through which they brought those horses—making it like a pen we build for wild ones. But those in it were not wild.”
    “How many—an’ what brands?” Anse wanted to know.
    Teodoro shrugged. “There are many trees, rocks; one can not see everywhere. I counted twenty head—there is room for more. As to brands, even the glasses could not make those plain to the eyes of one lying above. But there is no other ranchero who would run horses on the Range and Don Cazar’s manadas are not driven in here—does he want the wild ones to run off his mares? Horses would be kept so for only one reason, that they must be hidden. And in such a place as we found they could be left for maybe a month, or more. Don Cazar’s riders do not patrol this far away from the Stronghold. Had it not been that the Pinto causes so much trouble, even we would not be here.”
    “What about the Pinto? If he’s all you say, wouldn’t he try to get at this band?” asked Drew.
    “No reason if they are saddle stock—no mares among them,” Anse said thoughtfully. “But would those hombres who put ’em there jus’ leave—no guards or nothin’?”
    “That is what we do not know,” Hilario replied. “We took every precaution against being seen when Teodoro climbed to look into the canyon. And—this I believe—we were not suspected if there was any watcher. Otherwise, otherwise, señores , we would not have been alive to greet you when you rode in last night! This Kitchell, he is like an Apache—here, there, everywhere. Today I am easier because you have brought the Pima, because we have two more guns in this camp.”
    “Why didn’t you pull out yourselves?” Anse askedcuriously.
    “Because, were we watched, that would have made our discovery as plain as if we stood out in the open and shouted it to the winds. For three days before we found that trail we had been building a pen for wild ones, casting about for the tracks and runs of the Pinto’s band. Having done so, we would not leave without completing our drive. And, should those out there suspect”—Trinfan shook his head—“we would not have lived to reach the Stronghold, and that is the truth.”
    “This is also truth, padre .” Faquita came to the fire and picked up the coffeepot, pouring the thick black liquid into the waiting line of tin cups. “It is time for us to finish and be on the move—not to just talk of what must be done.”
    Drew looked up in surprise. The girl was wearing breeches, ready to ride. In addition, instead of the gunbelts which all the men wore as a matter of course, Faquita had tucked a pair of derringers in the front of her sash belt. Their small grips showed above the faded silk