The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

Shannon laughed. “That sure was a switch! Captain thought you was Kitchell’s man, when he shoulda looked a little closer in a coupla other places.”
    “But you were shot—by Kitchell’s men.”
    “I was creased by th’ shotgun rider on th’ stage we tried to stop. Boys brought me in close to town an’ dumped me on th’ road—gave us a chance to make up another tale to fool Bayliss. Me, I’ve been ridin’ with Colonel Kitchell since ’64. We come west from Kansas ’long th’ end of that year. Th’ Colonel, he saw what might be done out here where it’s a long ride between sheriffs an’ th’ army hadda think ’bout Injuns most of th’ time—what army there still was in th’ territory. Me an’ old man Lutterfield, we could help th’ Colonel better not ridin’ with him, but for him, as you might say.”
    “And now you’re goin’ to Mexico?”
    “In time, Rennie, in time. Th’ Colonel’s thinkin’ out some plans. Don Cazar, he was too lucky at th’ pass.”
    “You’re not goin’ to get back those horses or mules—or what they were packin’,” Drew said.
    “We’ll see, we’ll see.” Certainly Shannon’s confidence was in nowise shaken. “Th’ Colonel, he didn’t want to call in Nahata an’ his bucks—now maybe he’ll have to. What we need is a lay-up till we can make some good plans. An’ Benito, he’ll arrange that.”
    “If he lives.” Drew closed his eyes wearily. His face was one bruised ache where Shannon’s blow had landed, and his side was constant pain.
    “You’ll see,” Shannon promised. “We’ve got us a big ace in th’ hole—th’ Range boys don’t know as how I’m with Kitchell, not yet. That’s how we took you so easy back to th’ water hole. I jus’ rode up to José—got that there Pima listenin’ to me till Lutterfield sneaked up an’ put him outta business. Lutterfield, he don’t look much, but he was runnin’ in this country with th’ Injuns thirty years ago. He’s got th’ Apaches lissenin’ to him good. An’ I can talk us through th’ posses—maybe even into th’ Stronghold later.”
    “You’re a clever man, Shannon,” Drew commented dryly.
    “An’ you’re too free with that lip!” Drew’s head rocked under a stinging slap which made fiery wheels of pain roll in his head. He must have been sent very close to the edge of unconsciousness for a moment or two.
    “That’s ’nough, Johnny,” said Sergeant Wayne. “Th’ Colonel says to keep him ready to move. You battin’ him ’round like that don’t do no good.”
    So Topham had been right—Johnny Shannon was Kitchell’s man. Not that it mattered now. Even if, by some miracle, Drew could get away from this pack of wolves, he had no idea of where he was or which way to go. One man alone and lost in this country faced death as certain as the bullet Johnny Shannon had already loaded for him. There was only one thing—he was still alive, and as long as a man lived he had hope.
    Nye and Greyfeather had trailed this bunch from the water hole. Perhaps the wind and sand storms had muddled the tracks, but Drew still had faith in the Pima. And Rennie’s party had followed with the knowledge of the Mexican’s bolt hole to the south. Why, right now they could have circled ahead—could be waiting for Kitchell again as they had at the pass. An attack could give him a thin chance of escape. He had best keep his mouth shut and notprovoke Shannon, maybe feign being more helpless than he was.
    The outlaws had difficulty in getting the Mexican on his horse when they were ready to move on in the evening. Drew, seeing the man’s swollen face, his half-closed, set eyes, thought he was in high fever, probably no longer conscious. Kitchell ought to have sense enough to know Benito might not last out the night. But it was plain they were now pushed for time.
    They had been on the way for a while before Drew noticed that Lutterfield was not with them. His reappearance was far more dramatic than his going. A horse clattered up from behind at a pace not in keeping with the rough footing, and the rider drew level with Kitchell.
    “Soldiers comin’, Colonel. Got ’em a couple o’ them Pima Scouts sniffin’ th’ trail an’ some o’ Rennie’s men with ’em, too!”
    “It ain’t true!” Shannon’s protest was loud.
    “I seed em—bright an’ clear—mos’ up to where we stopped last. Iffen you wants to sit ’round waitin’ for ’em, do it! I’m clearin’