gh, an' after that
th' Old Man made a rule we take Pimas every drive. Ain't nothin' able to
surprise them. I never had no use for Injuns, but these here are peaceful
cusses--iffen they don't smell an Apache. With them ridin' point we're sure
slidin' th' groove. Me, I'll be glad to hit town. I'd shore like to keep
th' barkeep busier than a beaver buildin' hisself a new dam. Though with
th' Old Man off reppin' for th' law down along the border and needin'
hands back on the Range, we swallows down th' dust nice an' easy an' takes
it slow. Anyway, this far from payday I kin count up mosta m' roll without
takin' it outta m' pocket."

"This Kitchell...think it's true that some of the ranchers are really
helpin' him?"

"Don't know. Might be he's tryin' to play th' deuce against th' whole
deck. Lessen he lives on th' kind of whisky as would make a rabbit up an'
spit in a grizzly's eye hole, he's got somethin'--or someone--to back him.
Me...were th' Old Man poundin' th' hills flat lookin' for me, I'd crawl
th' nearest bronc an' make myself as scarce as a snake's two ears." Nye
shrugged. "Kitchell's got some powerful reason for squattin' out in th'
brush playin' cat-eyed with most of th' territory. Maybe so there're some
as will sit in on his side, but they've sure got their jaws in a sling an'
ain't bawlin' about it none. 'Course lotsa people were red-hot Rebs back
in '61 till they saw as how white men fightin' each other jus' naturally
gave th' Apaches an' some of th' border riffraff idears 'bout takin' over.
But mosta us now ain't wavin' no flag. Iffen Kitchell has got him some
diehards backin' him--" Nye shrugged again. "Git 'long there, you
knock-kneed, goat-headed wagon-loafer!" He pushed on to haze another
slacker.

They were dusty and dry when they dropped the corral gate in place and
watched the horses mill around. Drew headed for Kells' stable. Shadow
nickered a greeting and turned around as if to purposefully edge her
daughter forward for his inspection.

"Pretty, ma'am," he told her. "Very pretty. She's goin' to be as fine a
lady as her ma--I'm willin' to swear to that."

The filly lipped Drew's fingers experimentally and then snorted and did a
frisky little dance with her tiny hoofs rustling in the straw. Kells had
been as good as his promise, Drew noted. Mother and child had had expert
attention, and Shadow's coat had been groomed to a glossy silk; her black
mane and tail were rippling satin ribbons.

"Gonna