by Andre Norton
18
Drew lunged and then reeled back as Shannon laid the barrel of his Coltalongside the Kentuckian's head. He was half dazed from the blow but hemanaged to get out his protest.
"You murderin' butcher!"
"Kirby ain't dead, he'll just have a sore head tomorrow," Kitchellreturned, as the man he called Sergeant Wayne straightened up from theTexan's crumpled form. "And you--you keep a civil tongue in your head whenaddressing a superior officer. Shannon, no more of that!" The order stayeda second blow.
"Oughta shot him for real, suh."
"No. Not a man who rode with General Forrest." Kitchell hesitated and thenadded, "We'll be long gone before he wakes. Tie this one in the saddle ifhe can't hang on by himself. You may be right, Shannon, about him havinghis uses in the future."
"Say, Colonel, this here gray hoss, he's got hisself all hurted bad. Can'tnohow go 'long with us. Want I should shoot 'im?" That whine came from themeadow where they had left the horses.
"No, leave him. Won't do Kirby any good and that's a fine horse--might justsee him again some day. Sergeant, you fill all the canteens; take anysupplies you find here. Then we'll move out."
Drew, his wrists corded to the saddle horn, both ankles lashed to thestirrups, swayed in the saddle as Shannon took the reins of his horse andled it along. The pain in his head and the agony in his side resultingfrom even the most shallow breaths, brought on a kind of red mist whichshut off most of the surrounding night. He had no idea how the outlaws hadmanaged to jump the camp. And who was the extra man with them now? Onlythree had escaped during the horse fight, but four rode in the presentparty. He could not think straight; it was all he could do to will himselfto hold on and ride.
Drew was thirsty, so thirsty his tongue was a cottony mass in his mouth.The day was light and sunny now, and they were single-filing through aregion of bright, colored rock wind-worn into pinnacles, spires, andmesas. There was no water, no green of living things--just rock and sun andthe terrible need for a drink.
Maybe he moaned; Drew could not be sure. He saw the man riding ahead turnin the saddle. Blue eyes, the man had, with no honest life in them. Oncebefore the Kentuckian had seen eyes such as those. It had been in acabin--a cabin back in Tennessee in the dead of winter. A young bushwhackerwearing Union blue, with a murderer's eyes in his boyish face, had watchedDrew with the same incurious glance which held nothing of humankind.Shannon; the bushwhacker--two of the same killer breed. But to recognizethat no longer mattered. Nothing mattered save water....
His mount stopped. Drew looked dully at the ground. Then his attentionshifted to the man standing beside his horse.
"Down with you, fella."
Gray jacket, torn and threadbare--yet gray. Drew frowned.
"Sergeant Rennie, Buford's Scouts...." He tried to identify himself tothis strange Confederate, but the words that got out were a thick mumble.Then, somehow he was on the ground and the man was holding a canteen tohis mouth, dribbling blessed liquid over that choking cotton. Drew drank.
"Sergeant Rennie ... must report ... General Buford...." He was able totalk better now.
"Wot's that he's sayin'?"
"Somethin' 'bout some General Buford. Don't know who _he_ is."
"Buford? Buford rode with Forrest." Those words were spoken by a differentvoice, sharper, better educated.
Drew opened his eyes, and for the first time actually saw the men he hadbeen traveling with. The officer, who was maybe in his mid-thirties, had abeard trimmed to a point and eyes half sunk in his head. And Shannon--hehad a half-grin on his lips as he stared down, enjoying what he saw whenhe surveyed Drew. The one Kitchell called Sergeant Wayne was a big fellow,even though he was thinned down. He had a square sort of face--jaw tooheavy for the rest of it. Then, Drew's eyes came to the last man andstopped.
To the first three there was a uniformity; the remnants of militarytraining still clung to them. But this shrunken figure with a wild graybeard, watery, bloodshot eyes, a matted thatch of hair on which abroken-rimmed hat perched, ragged and filthy clothing ...
"Not gonna haul th' Mex much farther, you ain't!" observed this scarecrowwith a touch of relish in the relaying of bad news. "He's outta his headnow, gonna be clean outta his skin come sundown."
"All right!" said Kitchell. "We'll camp here ... in that shade." Hisgesture indicated some point beyond Drew's range of vision.
"They're gonna be sniffin' 'long right behind us," the sergeant saiddubiously.
"You're forgettin' we've got us sonny boy here!" Shannon loomed over Drew."He'll buy us out."
"Maybe from Rennie--not from them Yankee troopers."
"I told you"--Shannon lost his grin--"th' Yanks ain't gonna come all th' waydown here! There's too much pointin' in th' other direction. That is, ifyou was as good as you said you was, Lutterfield!"
The old man grinned in turn, widely set yellow tooth stubs showing ragged."Ain't never failed you yet, boy. Old Amos Lutterfield, he's got him thosewot believe wot he says like it was Holy Writ--he sure has! Themtroopers'll go poundin' down th' Sonora road huntin' wot never was, tillthey drop men an' hosses all along. Then Nahata an' his bucks'll tickle'em up a bit--an' they'll forgit there was anyone else t' hunt."
Drew lay in the position where they had dumped him, his hands still tied,the ropes on his ankles now knotted together. Had the season been highsummer they would have baked in this rock slit, but it was stilluncomfortably warm. He heard a low moaning and saw Kitchell andLutterfield bending over the Mexican. It was plain that the wounded manhad suffered from his enforced ride.
Some time later the Kentuckian was pulled into a sitting position. Hishands loosened, he was allowed to feed himself, but the _carne_ tastedlike wood splinters when he chewed it.
"Not much like th' Range?" Shannon asked him. "Don't worry none--it won'tlast long, Rennie, no, it won't!"
"You did take my papers."
"I sure did! You thought I was clean outta m' senses back there in th'Jacks when that fool Texan called out your name--didn't you now? Well, Iwasn't an' what he said sure made me want to know a little more--seein' ashow Hunt Rennie might well be m' pa. He owed me a Pa, you know. M' real pawas killed gittin' him outta prison. I didn't want no drifters cuttin' inon what was rightly mine, in a manner of speakin'. So I just waited m'chance to get at that belt of yours. Found what I wanted--an' that sortamade up m' mind.
"Colonel Kitchell here, he wanted me to go south with him. They have thema war goin' on down there; a man can always git ahead in wartime does helike soldierin'. But I weren't sure 'bout goin', till I found out as how Imight jus' be pushed out, anyway."
"Why did you think that? Hunt Rennie's always treated you as a real son,hasn't he?"
"Like a real son? Like _his_ idea of a son, you mean. Work hard--an' havin'books pushed at me. Always jawin' about education an' bein' a gentleman!Do this, don't do that--this's right, that's wrong. Bein' soft withInjuns--Lord, I was sick of bein' his kind of son when I went off withHoward. Rennie wasn't even ready to fight th' war proper--big man here,'fraid to try it where he wasn't! Rightly he was sick of me, too, only hisprecious duty wouldn't let him say so.
"But as long as he didn't know 'bout you, he'd try, an' keep on tryin'. Ihad me a good place to hole up on th' Range. With you there he might'n'thold on to his patience. First off I thought I might settle you permanent,then you got took up by Bayliss." Shannon laughed. "That sure was aswitch! Captain thought you was Kitchell's man, when he shoulda looked alittle 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. Boysbrought me in close to town an' dumped me on th' road--gave us a chance tomake up another tale to fool Bayliss. Me, I've been ridin' with ColonelKitchell 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 ridebetween sheriffs an' th' army hadda think 'bout Injuns most of th'time--what army there still was in th' territo
ry. Me an' old manLutterfield, we could help th' Colonel better not ridin' with him, but forhim, 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 werepackin'," Drew said.
"We'll see, we'll see." Certainly Shannon's confidence was in nowiseshaken. "Th' Colonel, he didn't want to call in Nahata an' his bucks--nowmaybe he'll have to. What we need is a lay-up till we can make some goodplans. An' Benito, he'll arrange that."
"If he lives." Drew closed his eyes wearily. His face was one bruised achewhere 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 wetook you so easy back to th' water hole. I jus' rode up to Jose--got thatthere Pima listenin' to me till Lutterfield sneaked up an' put him outtabusiness. Lutterfield, he don't look much, but he was runnin' in thiscountry 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 stingingslap which made fiery wheels of pain roll in his head. He must have beensent very close to the edge of unconsciousness for a moment or two.
"That's 'nough, Johnny," said Sergeant Wayne. "Th' Colonel says to keephim 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 itmattered now. Even if, by some miracle, Drew could get away from this packof wolves, he had no idea of where he was or which way to go. One manalone and lost in this country faced death as certain as the bullet JohnnyShannon had already loaded for him. There was only one thing--he was stillalive, and as long as a man lived he had hope.
Nye and Greyfeather had trailed this bunch from the water hole. Perhapsthe wind and sand storms had muddled the tracks, but Drew still had faithin the Pima. And Rennie's party had followed with the knowledge of theMexican's bolt hole to the south. Why, right now they could have circledahead--could be waiting for Kitchell again as they had at the pass. Anattack could give him a thin chance of escape. He had best keep his mouthshut and not provoke Shannon, maybe feign being more helpless than he was.
The outlaws had difficulty in getting the Mexican on his horse when theywere 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 nolonger conscious. Kitchell ought to have sense enough to know Benito mightnot 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 Lutterfieldwas 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 roughfooting, 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 youwants to sit 'round waitin' for 'em, do it! I'm clearin' out--ain't nobodycan say Amos Lutterfield was here."
"Nobody but us," Shannon said coldly.
"Lutterfield!"
Even Drew's head came around at that. The moonlight was silver bright onthe barrel of the Colt in Kitchell's grasp. "Sergeant, suppose you takeprecautions to insure the continued company of this man. I don't intend,Lutterfield, to let you curry favor by pointing out our trail to the army.I'd answer your proposed desertion as it deserves--with a bullet--but a bodyon our trail would provide an excellent signpost for any pursuers."
The rope which had been coiled on Wayne's saddle swung out in a perfectloop and tightened about Lutterfield, pinning his arms to his sides. Hisprotests and roars of anger went unheeded and he rode on as much aprisoner as Drew.
"Move out." Kitchell motioned with the Colt. "Those two peaksahead--according to Benito, the cut we want is between them. Across thatwe're free. The army can't follow us into Mexico."
But Kitchell still kept to a cautious pace. The risk of losing a mount wasone he dared not run. Drew debated the idea of booting his own horse fromtheir line of march and trying to ride for it. He need only hide out andwait for the troopers to pick him up. If he had had hands free and beenable to move in the saddle to dodge bullets, he might have tried it.
The night wore on and Drew was driven to admiring the outlaws' nerve.Kitchell did not hurry; in fact he followed the old cavalry custom ofresting mounts at regular intervals, seeing that each of the weary horseshad nostrils and mouth wiped out with a dampened cloth. At the third halthe allowed them a drink of water before a smaller portion was given themen. Whatever else the outlaw might be, he was an experienced fieldcommander.
They had the peaks looming above them when Benito gave a gurgling gasp andstiffened, tall in the saddle, before he looped into a limp, danglingbundle of a man. Kitchell called a halt. He dismounted to examine theMexican before he beckoned to Wayne.
"He's dead. We'll need his horse. Put him down behind those rocks overthere, Sergeant."
"You know where we're goin', suh?" Shannon asked.
"Enough to get us across the border. We can take cover there, make someother arrangements. Benito's _patron_ would not welcome us with emptypockets. Hurry, Sergeant!"
"I only got two hands, suh." Wayne had freed the body of the Mexican butwas having trouble dragging it into the appointed hiding place.
"You help him, Shannon. We have no time to waste."
"What about him?" Shannon's thumb indicated Drew.
"I don't see how he can get away. Hurry up!"
Johnny dismounted with visible reluctance, but not before he blastedDrew's hopes by looping the reins of the captive's horse around his ownsaddle horn. And in addition Kitchell stood there with drawn gun. They haddisposed of the body and Johnny was back when a sudden command boomed outof the air.
"Freeze!"
Shannon leaped, putting his horse between him and the open. He had thereins of Drew's mount in his hand. Kitchell went into a half crouch, andwas startled into snapping a shot in the general direction of the voice.
Drew sat statue still. It was only too easy in this tricky light, brightthough the moon was, to seem one of the men those ahead were hunting. Hehad no desire to stop a bullet now. But Johnny had ideas of his own. Underhis direction Drew's horse broke to the left. There were shots and Drewflattened himself as best he could on the saddle horn, but not before hesaw Kitchell spin around in a crazy dance and fall.
"All right, all right!" Shannon's voice was broken, ragged, almost as ifhe were sobbing. "You ain't got me yet--not by a sight, you ain't!" A knifeflashed, cutting the ties which kept Drew's left boot to the stirrup. TheKentuckian was dragged down and held while the knife sliced again. Twomore shots--then silence. Drew lay face to earth. The fall from the saddlehad brought him down on his injured side, and he was in too great pain totake much interest in his surroundings.
Then he was dragged, pulled over on his back.
"I got Drew Rennie here." The call was one of desperation. "Yeah, hearthat? Drew Rennie--th' Old Man's son.... I read them letters he had--it'sth' truth! You come t' take me an' he gits a knife clean across histhroat. I want me a hoss, water, an' an open road south. Do I git 'em--ordoes Mister High an' Mighty Rennie git him a son who ain't speakin' nomore?"
"Johnny? Is that you, Johnny?"
"It sure is! Me, Johnny Shannon! An' I'm ridin' outta here free'n clear orelse I'll do what I said. I mean that, Rennie! I surely do mean it. Youlose me an' you git your real son--good bargain, ain't it?"
"You won't ride free for long, Johnny. You know that."
"I can h
ave me a pretty good try, Rennie. This here's my country an' Iknow it well--better'n any but your men. Give me your word an' I'll go."
Drew tried to fight back the darkness which was closing in, a darkstronger than mere night shadows.
"Give him what he wants." The words echoed hollowly.
Shannon drew a deep breath. He laughed softly. And Drew made a greateffort. He could see the bulk of the other's body poised between him andan opening between the rocks which must give on the pocket in which theoutlaws had been surprised. Johnny was set like a runner ready on themark.
The Kentuckian could hear the scrape of horses' hoofs on stone. They mustbe bringing out a mount, keeping Hunt's part of the bargain. Only, Drewsuddenly knew, Johnny was going to keep him. He saw the gun hand shiftagainst the rock--Johnny was taking aim into the pocket. Why? By trustingto Rennie's word he would have a slim chance, so why spoil it by sometreachery?
"All right, Johnny, it's ready for you."
"Now you git them hands up, Rennie. Sorta guessed you'd come yourself. I'mgittin' out, all right. Do I take you along there ain't goin' to be notrailin', none 'tall--do they want _Don_ Cazar to keep on breathingregular. Git them hands up, high!"
With all the force he could summon Drew kicked at Johnny's crouching body.Shannon cried out--there was a shot. Then Johnny cried again, this timewith a choke cutting off the word as he arched convulsively against theboulder. In the half light the arrow projecting from between his shoulderblades stood out with unnatural clarity.
Arrow? Drew's wits worked slowly. The arrow must have come from one of thePimas--Rennie had been covered, after all. So he had not believed too muchin Johnny's promises....
"You there, kid?" Someone came through the rock gap. "Hey--he's here allright, but he's hurt!" Nye's grasp on him brought the pain in Drew's sideto an agony he could no longer stand. He was crushed down into darkness.
"Ribs are cracked, not broken--that's something to be thankful for. Allright, you can let him down now. Give me that pad and some water; I wantto see how much damage there is here."
Drew tried to turn his head away from the touch on his swollen cheek andjaw, but he was held steady to endure it.
"Best we can do for the present. You can leave the rest to me, Nye."
Drew opened his eyes. There was a fire near-by, but the flickering of theflames concealed more than they revealed of the face above him. He foundthe words to say rather than ask:
"You knew ... before Johnny told ... you knew...."
"Teodoro told me--yesterday."
"I didn't lie. Johnny took the papers."
"He admitted it at the last. But why, why didn't you come to me?"
Put muddled feelings into words, attempt to explain what he did not fullyunderstand himself? It was hard even to try, but you always faced up tothe hard things.
"Wanted to know ... if it was right ... for both of us ... had to knowthat."
"If you'd be welcome--that it? Well, what did you decide?"
What had he decided hours, days ago?
"Too late...." But somehow that came out differently than he intended, asa question rather than a statement.
"No." The answer was uttered flatly, in a voice you did not argue with."Suppose we begin all over again. You willing to try?"
"Better say--are _you_, suh?" Drew had whirling memories of all that hadgone wrong since he had tried things his way. Then he saw a smile on hisfather's face, bringing him in--in where? To what? Suddenly he was eager tofind out.
"Took the long way around to get home, didn't you?" Hunt Rennie askedsoftly. "I think we can make it worth the effort. Now, suppose you trysome sleep--you've a pair of cracked ribs which'll have to be favored for awhile. I think you've been too knocked about lately to make good sense.There'll be plenty of time."
Plenty of time.... Drew blinked. "Yes, suh." Obediently he shut his eyes.A blanket was pulled up, tucked in about him. For a moment a warm handrested protectingly on his shoulder. And that reassuring pressure carriedover with him into sleep, as if what he had long sought withoutrecognizing was his, never to be lost again.
SCIENCE FICTION BY ANDRE NORTON
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THE TIME TRADERS
"Effectively utilizing the concept of time travel, the author ... haswritten another imaginative, action-filled science fiction story forteenage boys. Young Ross Murdock ... is sent back into the Bronze Age,discovers a derelict galactic ship, and finds himself fighting ... to gaincontrol of the secrets of space flight."--_ALA Booklist_
THE STARS ARE OURS!
To escape the tyranny on Terra in the year 2500, a group of scientistsmake a last-minute getaway under fire and take off for another planet inanother solar system. Their adventures make top-flight entertainment forall science-fiction fans.
STAR BORN
Young Dalgard Nordis of the planet Astra and his merman companion Sssurijoin forces with a space man from Terra to outwit resurgent nonhumanAliens. A sequel to _The Stars Are Ours!_
GALACTIC DERELICT
Full of action and suspense, this is a gripping story of modern scientistsengaged in a daring experiment in time transfer, who find themselvescatapulted from the age of prehistoric man into outer space.
STORM OVER WARLOCK
"Shann's victory over the beetle-like Throgs and his civilized alliancewith [an eerie world of beautiful witches] is told with that sweepingimagination and brilliance of detail which render Andre Norton a primarytalent among writers of science fiction."--Virginia Kirkus' _Bulletin_
THE DEFIANT AGENTS
"In this companion to _Galactic Derelict_ a group of well-educated ApacheIndians is space-shipped to another planet [where] they discover that theRussians have sent a group of Mongols ... Aficionados will likeit."--_Library Journal_