Rebel Spurs | Page 5

reason for him to claim the kinship. He was independent.
Drew Kirby had a mule and two good horses, maybe three by tomorrow.
Aunt Marianna had insisted that he accept part of the Mattock estate,
even though his Kentucky grandfather had left him penniless. He'd
made his choice without hesitation: the colt Shiloh, the mare Shadow,
and she bred to Storm Cloud for what should be a prize foal. His aunt
had made him take more--gold in his money belt, enough to give him a
start in the west. He was his own man, not Rennie's son, unless he

chose....
Two more lamps had been lighted in the cantina. Drew sat down at a
table. There was a swish of full skirts, and he looked up at a girl. She
smiled as if she liked what she saw of this brown-faced stranger with
quiet, disciplined features and eyes older than his years.
"You like, señor ... tequila ... whiskee ... food?"
"Food, señorita. You see a most hungry man."
She laughed and then frowned anxiously. "Ah, but, señor, this is a time
when the cupboard is, as you would say, bare! When the wagons
come--then what a difference! Now, tortillas, frijoles, maybe some
fruit ... sweet for the tongue, like wine in the throat. Perhaps an egg--"
"To me that is a feast." Drew fell into the formal speech which seemed
natural here. "You see one who has done his own trail cooking too
long."
"Ah--el pobrete--poor man! Surely there will be an egg!" She was gone
and Drew began covertly to study the other men in the room.
In any western town the cantina, or saloon, was the meeting place for
masculine society. Even if Hunt Rennie did not appear bodily in the
Four Jacks tonight, Drew could pick up information about his father
merely by keeping open ears. As far away as Santa Fe he had heard of
Rennie's Range and Don Cazar (the name the Mexicans had given its
owner, Hunt Rennie).
Escaped from a Mexican prison in 1847, believing his wife and the son
he had never seen to be dead, Hunt Rennie had gone west. In contrast
to the tragedy of his personal life, whatever Rennie had turned his hand
to in the new territory had prospered. A prospector he had grub-staked,
found the Oro Cruz, one of the richest mines in the Tubacca hills.
Rennie owned two freighting lines, one carrying goods to California,
the other up from Sonora. And his headquarters in the fertile Santa
Cruz Valley was a ranch which was also a fort, a fort even the Apaches

avoided after they had suffered two overwhelming defeats there.
That was Rennie's Range--cultivated fields, fruit orchards, manadas of
fine horses. Don Cazar supplied Tucson and the army posts with
vegetables and superb hams. He had organized a matchless company of
Pima Indian Scouts after the army pulled out in '61, had fought
Apaches, but had sided with neither Union nor Confederate forces.
During the war years he had more or less withdrawn within the borders
of the Range, offering refuge to settlers and miners fleeing Indian
attacks. Don Cazar was a legend now, and a man did not quickly claim
kinship with a legend.
"Want a room, Kirby?" Topham paused beside his table.
"No. I have to stay close to the mare."
"Yes. I can understand that. Kells is good with horses, so you needn't
worry. Ever raced that colt of yours?"
"Not officially." Drew smiled. There was that lieutenant with the
supply wagons. The man hadn't talked so loudly about Johnny Rebs
after Shiloh showed his heels to the roan the soldiers had bragged up.
"This is a sporting town when the wagons come in, and they're due
tomorrow. Johnny Shannon just rode in to report. Might be some racing.
You aim to stay on in Tubacca?"
"Have to until Shadow can trail again. How's the prospect for a job?"
"With cattle--horses--teaming?"
"Horses, I guess."
"Well, Don Cazar--Rennie--runs the best manadas. You might hit him
for work. He'll be riding in to meet the wagons. Carmencita, did you
bring all that was left of the supplies?" Topham's quizzical eyebrows
lifted in greeting to the waitress's loaded tray. "I'd say, young man, that
you are facing a full-time job now, getting all that inside of you."

Drew ate steadily, consuming eggs and beans, tortillas, and fruit.
Topham joined three men at the next table, substantial town citizens,
Drew judged. The owner of the cantina raised his glass.
"Gentlemen, I give you another successful trading trip!"
"Saw Johnny ride in," one of the men returned. "Kid seems to be settlin'
down, ain't he? That ought to be good news for Rennie."
"One believes in reformations when they are proven by time, Señor
Cahill," the man wearing rich