or she wore hide
breeches and boots, a man's shirt now hanging loosely about her hips. She
jerked her head, and a thick braid flopped from under her wide-brimmed
hat.

"_Senor, por favor_--please--we have done no wrong. We are the
Trinfans--Teodoro and me. Teodoro, he finds _Senor_ Juanito's purse in the
road, he follows to give it back. He is not a _bandido_--he is not _espia_,
a spy one. We are mustangers. Ask of _Don_ Reese, of _Senor_ Kells. Why,
_Senor_ Juanito, do you say Teodoro spy on you, why you hit him with the
whip?"

"Not thief, not spy!" The boy beside Drew dropped a wealed hand from his
face. "The man who says Teodoro Trinfan is _ladron_--bad one--him I kill!"

Drew's left arm swept out across the boy's chest, pinning him back against
the stable.

"Now, what's your story?" the Kentuckian asked the man he fronted.

"An' jus' what's all this smokin' 'bout?" Kells came out. "You, Shannon,
what're you doin' here? Been drinkin' again, fightin', too, by th' look of
you."

"_Senor_ Kells." The girl caught at the older man's arm. "_Por favor,
senor_, we are not thieves, not spies. We come after _Senor_ Juanito
because he dropped his purse. Then he see Teodoro coming, he not listen--he
beat on him with quirt. You know, we are honest peoples!"

"Now then, Faquita, don't you git so upset, gal!" She was wailing aloud,
making no effort to wipe away the tears running down her cheeks. "Johnny,
what kinda game you tryin'? You know these kids are straight; them an'
their ol' man's come to work th' Range for wild ones on Rennie's own
askin'. Takin' a quirt to th' kid, eh?" Kells' voice slid up the scale.
"You sure have yourself a snootful tonight! Now you jus' walk yourself
outta here on th' bounce. I'm doin' th' sayin' of what goes on, on my own
property."

"You do a lotta sayin', Kells." The scowl was gone; Shannon's battered
mouth was actually smiling. But, Drew decided, he liked the scowl better
than the smile and the tone of the voice accompanying it. "Some men
oughtta put a hobble on their tongues. Sure, I know these young whelps an'
their pa too. Sniffin' round where they ain't wanted. An' mustangers ain't
above throwin' a sticky loop when they see a hoss worth it. We ain't blind
on th' Range." His head swung a little so he was looking at the girl.
"You'd better hold that in mind, gal. Double R hosses have come up missin'
lately. It's easy to run a few prime head south to do some moonlight
tradin' at th' b