"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 but somber Spanish clothing replied.
"It sure must go hard with a man to have his son turn out a wild one," commented the third.
Drew's cup was at his lips, but he did not drink. Whose son? Rennie's?
"No son by blood, that much comfort _Don_ Cazar has. But foster ties are also strong. And the boy is still very young--"
"A rattler with only one button on the tail carries as much poison as a ten-button one. Rennie ought to cut losses and give that kid the boot. The way he's going he could involve Hunt in a real mess," Cahill said.
"You are _Don_ Cazar's good friend, _Don_ Reese, his _compadre_ of many years. Can you not do something?"
"_Don_ Lorenzo, all men have blind spots. And Johnny Shannon is Rennie's. Bob Shannon helped free Hunt out of Mex prison in the war and was killed doing it. Soon as Hunt set up here he sent for the boy and tried to give him a father."
"It is a great pity he has no child of his own blood. I have seen him stand here in Tubacca giving toys and candy to the little ones. Yet he has only this wild one under his roof, and perhaps that Juanito will break his heart in the end...."
Drew put down his cup. It was very hard not to turn and ask questions. Dropping some coins on the table, he rose and started back to the stable, to the world of Shiloh and Shadow where he was unable to betray Drew Rennie. But there was so much Drew Kirby must learn--and soon!
Two lighted lanterns hung from pegs along the center of the stable, and Callie had mounted a barrel to put up a third as Drew entered. There were the soft peaceful sounds of horses crunching fodder, hoofs rustling in straw. Shadow turned her head and nickered as Drew came up to her box stall. She was answered by a blowing from Shiloh, a bray out of Croaker.
"It's all right, girl--pretty lady--" Drew fondled her mane, stroked the satin-smooth arch of neck. Callie dropped from his barrel perch.
"She sure is right purty, Mister Kirby. Mister Kells said as to tell you he's sleepin' on a cot in th' tack room over there, should you be needin' him." Callie pointed. "Me, I'm beddin' down in the last stall. I put your gear up right over here, so's you can hear if she gits to movin'--"