The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

slipped back and forth about his waist.Under his two shirts—he had added the second before he left the Stronghold—the band of his money belt made a lump and now his hands ran along it.
    He had had no occasion to open any of those pockets since he had left Tubacca the first time. Now, to take his mind off immediate discomfort, he tried to estimate by touch alone how many coins still remained in the two pockets. The middle section of the three divisions held his papers. There were those for the horses, the parole he had brought from Gainesville, the two letters he had not been able to bring himself to deliver to Hunt Rennie. One was from Cousin Merry, and the other was a formal, close-to-legal statement drawn up by Uncle Forbes’ attorney. Both were intended to prove the identity of one Drew Rennie beyond any reasonable doubt.
    Drew’s fingers stilled above that pocket. It felt too thick, bunchy under his pinching. Whatever—? He squirmed around, free of the blanket, and began to pull off his gloves.
    “What’s th’ matter?” the Texan began in a whisper.
    “Just a minute!” It was a clumsy business, pulling the belt free from under his layers of heavy clothing. But Drew got it across his knee. His chilled fingers picked at the fastening of the pocket. There was no packet of papers there—neither the sheets for the horse, nor the much-creased strip of the parole, nor the sealed envelope which had held both letters. Instead he plucked out what felt like shreds of grass and leaves, dry and crackling.
    “What is it?” Anse leaned forward.
    “My papers—they’re gone!” Drew rummaged frantically, turning the pocket inside out. When—who?
    “What papers, compadrê ?”
    Drew explained.
    “You’ve beenwearin’ that there belt constantly, ain’t you?”
    “Yes. Except—” He suddenly tensed. “That night, down by the swimmin’ hole, when you thought you saw somethin’ in the bushes…remember?”
    “I remember. Looky here, who’d want ’em—an’ why?”
    “Shannon!” And in that moment Drew was as certain of that as if he had actually seen Johnny stripping them out of the belt.
    “How’d he know you were carryin’ anythin’?”
    “He knew I had the belt. I left it with Topham when I raced Shiloh, and he saw me give it to him. And, Anse, he must have heard you call me ‘Rennie’ in the Jacks! If he did, he’d want to find out more—Rennie’s not a common name. And Shannon’s not stupid. He’d figure anything valuable I’d be carryin’ would be in this belt.”
    “How come you didn’t know it was gone?”
    “I don’t know. Seemed just as heavy and that pocket didn’t ride any different when I had it on. No reason to open it lately.”
    “So—what’s he got? Your hoss papers, your parole outta th’ army, an’ them two letters. Yeah, he’s got jus’ ’bout all he needs to make one big war smoke for you.”
    “And I can’t prove he has them,” Drew said bleakly.
    “Jus’ by makin’ him one little private fire,” Anse went on, “he could about put you outta business, compadre . There’s only one thing to do.”
    “Such as?”
    “Johnny Shannon has got to do some talkin’ his ownself. An’ we can’t wait too long to invite him to a chin-waggin’ party, neither!”
    Anse was right. Shannon had only to slip that collection of papers into the nearest fire and he would put an end to Drew Rennie. Of course Drew could obtain duplicates of the letters and horse papers from Kentucky, but that might take months. And he did not know whether the parole could be reissued from army records. Why, at this moment he could not prove that he had served in the east with the Army of Tennessee. Let Bayliss come down on him now and he was defenseless.…
    “We can’t ride tonight,” Anse added. “But come first light we give a look-see here an’ then we move—straight back to th’ Stronghold an’ Shannon. Also—I’m sayin’ this ’cause I think it’s good advice, Drew. Now’s th’ time you’ve got to go to th’ Old Man an’ tell him th’ truth, quick as you can. Sure, I know why you didn’t want to claim kin before, but now you’ll have to.”
    Drew shook his head. “Not now—not with nothing to back up my story. Shannon could give me the lie direct.”
    “I’m thinkin’ you’re showin’ less brains than a dumb cow-critter, amigo . But, lissen—I’m backin’ your play. Does Shannon cut up rough, he’s got two of us hitchin’ a holster steady