"Why? What do they mean to him?"

Evasions and lies had gotten him into this mess; now he would see what stark truth would do.

"Because there were two letters-proof I'm Drew Rennie."

"Rennie?" Topham repeated. In the light Drew could not see his expression, but his voice was that of a completely baffled man. "Rennie?"

"I'm Hunt Rennie's son." There, he had said it-and nothing startling happened. Well, what had he expected-a clap of thunder, a bolt of lightning, the sudden appearance of a cavalry patrol across the nearest hilltop?

"So that's it!" Topham said slowly. "And Shannon suspected? But why the mystery? And--"

Drew took the questions in turn. "Shannon was at the Jacks when I met Anse. I thought he was unconscious, but he probably wasn't. Anse called me by my right name. As for why-my father doesn't know I'm alive. He was told I died at birth, along with my mother. They told _me_ he was killed in the Mexican War before I was born. It was all because of an old family feud-too long a story to tell now. I've only known for about a year I had a father here in Arizona ... but to make a claim on him, after all these years.... Maybe you don't understand why I didn't want to." He was telling it badly, but he'd been a fool about this from the start.

"Understand ... yes, I think I can. There's a certain strain of bull-headed independence common to Rennies-I've met it head-on several times myself. And your choice was your own to make. But this ... yes, it is just the move Shannon would make, given suspicion to push him into action. And now it may be pushing him even farther."

Drew was a little bewildered by Topham's ready acceptance of his story without any proof. But the tone of the last remark caught his full attention.

"What d' you mean? What's happened now?"

"I've had suspicions, pretty nasty ones, for some time. But I had your trouble-no proof. In the last three days I've picked up and sorted out a few very wild cards, and now they make a pat hand. Kitch.e.l.l has had his contact here-abouts, all right, just as Bayliss has always insisted."

"You can't mean Shannon!"

"Johnny Shannon. And if he's doing what I think he is...." Topham paused.

When he continued he had changed the subject. "Last night Nye rode up from the Range. Said that Kitch.e.l.l made a raid, almost a clean sweep. Among other stock he gathered up was that prize stud of yours."

"Shiloh!"

And Shannon had the horse papers! The Kentuckian was thinking fast now.

"Yes, if Shannon _is_ riding with Kitch.e.l.l, now he can prove ownership of that stud and sell him anywhere without trouble." Topham could have been reading Drew's mind. "But that's not as important as something else. Hunt went h.e.l.l-bent-for-leather out of here. He'll gather up that private army of his and try to trail the raiders. Maybe Kitch.e.l.l will ride south, or maybe he'll head directly back into Apache country. Either way that trail's going to be as easy for anyone after him as walking barefoot through a good roaring fire! Hunt still has blind faith in Johnny.... I was hoping you could help break that."

"That why you got me out of the camp?" Drew asked.

"Partly. Hunt told me what you said about Johnny taking your papers. I had you sized up as being too smart to make a claim like that unless you really believed it. And I thought maybe you could prove it, given a chance. If you can get to Hunt now ... tell him the real truth before Johnny rigs something of a double-cross...."

"Would he believe me any more than he did when I accused Shannon?" Drew asked bleakly. "I'll head south, all right. n.o.body's goin' to lift Shiloh and get away with it as long as I'm able to fork a saddle and push. But if you're countin' on my bein' able to influence my-my father"-he stumbled over the word awkwardly-"don't!"

"I'm counting on nothing," Topham returned. "Just hoping now. For a long time we've heard about Johnny Shannon being a young hothead who found it hard to settle down after the war. I think there are two Johnnys and we are just beginning to know the real one. You could be his prime target now."

"Fair of you to point that out." Drew thought that at last he had found a real motive for Topham's services. "I'm likely to be bait, ain't that the truth of it?"

"If you are, the trap is going to be there. But now ... get away from here. Teodoro will ride with you as guide."

"And the army after me. That's it!" Drew had mounted. "That's what you want, isn't it? Me to pull the troops south? Huntin' down an escaped horse thief they might slam into Kitch.e.l.l...."

What a trick! Topham had planned it without asking Drew's support. But it called for enough audacity, luck, and nerve to be appealing. During the war the Kentuckian had seen such schemes win out time and time again.

"Why ain't Bayliss already ridin'?" he asked. "Hasn't he heard about the raid?"

"He's been heard to say a man can raid his own stock as a cover-up."

"What's wrong with him? Is he deaf, dumb, and blind!"

"No, just prejudiced and ridden by envy until he's not able to think straight any more. But he'll track you and follow quick enough!"

"He sure will. All right ... we ride."

They did, Drew depending on the younger Trinfan's guidance. And, while Teodoro set a meandering trail, it was not one which a determined pursuer would have too much trouble following, come sunup or whenever that sentry discovered he was guarding a straw prisoner.

Once when they pulled up to breathe their horses, dismounting to loose cinches and cool the backs of the mounts, Drew indulged his curiosity further.

"How come you knew just where to make that hole to let me out?"

Teodoro laughed. "That was easy, _senor_. That was the Garza Rancho-only six months has the army been there. Many times we have camped within its walls when we brought in the best of the wild catch for sale. I know those buildings very well. When _Senor_ Topham tells my father what must be done, we could plan well and quickly. I have heard what you said to _Senor_ Topham, that you are the son of _Don_ Cazar. Why did he not know of this? Why have you never lived here with him?"

"He didn't know I was alive, and I didn't know that he was. My grandfather-my mother's father-he hated _Don_ Cazar very much, because of a duel and other things. So my father took my mother away secretly, brought her to Texas when they were both very young. Then _Don_ Cazar went to war and the news came that he had been killed. My grandfather went to Texas and took my mother home with him. She died a few months later, when I was born.

"It was only after my grandfather died, two years ago, that letters from my father were found among his private papers. These I discovered when I came home from the war, learning that my father was alive and here in Arizona. Only we were strangers ... I did not know whether he would like me for a son, or whether I wanted a stranger for a father. So, when I came here I took the name of my _compadre_, my friend from the war, Anse Kirby.

I wanted to know my father before I made my claims."

"And _Senor_ Juanito-for this he will hate you!"

"Because I did not tell who I was at the start?" Drew asked.

"No-because you are truly _Don_ Cazar's son. Always _Don_ Cazar, he treated _Senor_ Juanito as a son, but I do not think that was enough.

_Senor_ Juanito, he is one who must have everything, all. Even when he was a boy, he was like that. Bartolome Rivas, he braids beautiful ropes, and he made one for Juanito. Always I wanted a rope like that. I would watch Juanito use it and wish. Then once we spend Christmas at the Stronghold ... it was after my father was hurt and _Don_ Cazar had us to stay there so he could tend my father's wounds. Had _he_ been with us when the wild ones stampeded, my father would not walk crooked, but we got him back to the ranch too late. But that is not what I would say. It was Christmas and _Don_ Cazar gave to me a rope like that of Juanito, a fine rope which felt as if it was a part of a man's own arm when he swung it. Two days later, that rope, it was gone, never did I find it. But I knew-I had seen Juanito watching me when I tried that fine rope. And I knew his thoughts: no one must have a rope as good as Juanito's! Not long after that he ran away, to join the army. But really that was because _Don_ Cazar caught him beating one of the Indios. Only that is not generally known. The Indio was being taught by _Don_ Cazar to have charge of the grain storage, and Juanito thought that Indios are as dirt-should have no place among Anglos. _Senor_ Juanito would hate with a black hate anyone who had a right to be a son at the Stronghold, a better right than he could claim. He must always be on top, at the head. Sometimes it would seem that he would, if he could, push aside _Don_ Cazar himself.... Now I think we should ride again."

By dawn Drew had no idea where they were except that they pushed south.

Whether they were now on the Range he did not know. And how in the immensity of this hostile country, they could fulfill Topham's hopes and lead the troop patrol to Rennie's posse, was something the Kentuckian did not even try to answer. The border lay south. If Kitch.e.l.l had made such a sweeping raid, he would be certain to run the animals in that direction, for the outlaw was fully aware of Rennie's reputation and temper, and knew that _Don_ Cazar would trail him with set determination.

This meant the outlaw must have set up some plan for avoiding pursuit.

Rouse the Apaches? Or prepare an ambush? Either could work. Then Bayliss'

men could be a saving factor. If the Kentuckian could locate Rennie, and ride in to his camp-or skulk close enough to it-that should bring the troops down.

But where was Anse? The Texan had not simply cleared out because of imminent trouble, Drew was sure of that. Had he followed Shannon to Mexico? This was one time when Drew could well understand the exasperation and frustration felt by an officer whose scouts did not report in as ordered and who had no idea of the disposition of reinforcements. Talk about going into something blind! But still he rode at a steady, mile-covering pace southward.

15

"Still south...." Teodoro pointed out the hoof prints deep in the soft earth beside the water hole. Drew steadied himself with one hand on the stirrup leathers as he stooped to see more clearly. He was groggy with lack of sleep and felt that if he once allowed himself to slip completely to ground level, he would not get up again.

"Rennie's riders?"