The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

Bayliss have? Could he try a civilian by court-martial and get away with it? And to whom could Drew possibly appeal? Topham? Rennie? Apparently Bayliss wanted them enough to suggest Drew testify against them. Did he actually believe Drew guilty, or had that been a subtle invitation to perjury? The Kentuckian set the plate on the floor and got up again to make a minute study of the cell. His thought now was that maybe his only chance would be to break out.
    But his first appraisal of the detention quarters had been the right one. Given a pickaxand a shovel, and an uninterrupted period of, say, a week, he might be able to tunnel under one of the log walls. But otherwise he could not see any other way of getting free—save to walk out through the cell door. Drew threw himself on the bunk and tried to think logically and clearly, but his tired body won over his mind and he slept.
    “Hey, you! Kirby, wake up! There’s someone here to see you!”
    Drew reached for a Colt which was no longer under his pillow and then rolled over and sat up groggily, rubbing one hand across his smarting eyes. The lantern light had given way to dusty sunshine, one bar of which now caught him straight across the face.
    “All right, Kirby, suppose you tell me what this is all about!”
    Drew’s head came up, his hand fell. Hunt Rennie and Lieutenant Spath stood side by side beyond the bars. Or rather, not Hunt Rennie, but Don Cazar was there—for the owner of the Range was wearing the formal Spanish dress in which Drew had first seen him. And his expression was one of withdrawal.
    “They think that I’m one of Kitchell’s men and that I had something to do with those stolen horses we found on the Range.” He blurted it out badly.
    “They also showed me about six hundred dollars in gold found on you,” Rennie returned. “I thought you needed a job. You told Topham that, didn’t you?”
    “Yes, suh.” Drew’s bewilderment grew stronger. Hunt Rennie sounded as if he believed part of Bayliss’ accusation!
    “That money’s rightfully mine,” Drew added.
    “You can prove it?”
    “Sure. Back in Kentucky.…” Drew paused. Back-in-Kentucky proof would not help him here and now in Arizona.
    “Kentucky?” Rennie’s withdrawal appeared to increase by a score of miles. “I understood you were from Texas.”
    “Told you, Rennie,” the lieutenant said, “his story doesn’t hold together at all. A couple of really good questions and it falls right apart.”
    “I came here from Texas.” Drew took stiff hold of himself. He was walking that narrow ledge again, and with a wind ready to push him off into a bottomless gulf. “Rode with a wagon train as far as Santa Fe—from there on with military supply wagons to Tucson. I was in Kentucky after the war; went home with a boy from my scout company.…”
    “Who gave you two blooded horses and a belt full of gold for a good-by present?” scoffed Spath.
    “ Have you any proof of what you say closer than Kentucky?” Rennie ignored the lieutenant’s aside. “I can account for your time on the Range, or most of it. But you’ll have to answer for this money and where you came from originally. What about your surrender parole? I know you did have papers for the horses—Callie saw them. Produce those.…”
    “I can’t.” Drew’s hands balled into fists where they rested on his knees.
    “Sure you can’t—you never had any!” Spath returned.
    “I had them. I don’t have them now.” What was the use of trying to tell Rennie about his suspicions of Shannon? And if Johnny had destroyed the papers as well he might have, Drew could never make them believe him, anyway.
    “Kirby, this is serious!” said Rennie. “You ride in from nowhere with two fine horses wearing a brand you say is your own. You have more money than any drifter ever carries. You claim to be a Texan,and yet now you say all the proof of your identity is in Kentucky. And—you are not Anson Kirby’s cousin, are you?” That last question was shot out so suddenly that Drew answered before he thought.
    “No.”
    “I thought so.” Hunt Rennie nodded. “Education is a polisher, but I don’t think three or four years’ schooling would have made a Texas range rider ask for sherry over whisky—except to experiment with an exotic beverage. There were other things, too, which did not fit with the Kirby background once Anson turned up. Just who are you?”
    Drew shrugged. “That doesn’t matter now—as the