ke to Drew, "to you we owe a big
debt. Come, Teodoro!" She caught at her brother and pulled him away.

"What makes a kid go sour?" Kells asked of the shadows beyond rather than
of Drew. "Johnny warn't no real trouble 'fore he skinned off to ride with
Howard. Sure he was always a wild one, but no more'n a lotta kids. An'
he'd answer th' lead rein. 'Course we don't know what happened to him in
Texas after th' big retreat th' Rebs made outta here. Could be he larned a
lot what was no good. Now he sops up whisky when he hits town an' picks
fights, like he didn't git his belly full of that in th' war. You can't
never tell how a kid's gonna turn out."

"Hey! Mister Kirby, you better git in here!" Callie hailed from the
stable. "Th' mare ... she's...."

Drew jammed the Colt under his belt and ran.

The scent of hay, of grain, of horse.... Drew's head rolled on the pillow
improvised from hay and blanket as sun lay hot across his face. He rubbed
the back of his hand over his eyes and then came fully awake to remember
the night before.

It took only a minute to get down the ladder into Shadow's stall where a
broom tail jiggled up and down above absurdly long baby legs and small
rounded haunches. Shadow's small daughter breakfasted. Callie squatted on
his heels near-by watching the process benignly.

"Ain't she 'bout th' best-favored filly you ever saw?" he asked. "How come
all your hosses is grays? Shiloh her pa?"

Drew shook his head. "No, her sire's Storm Cloud. But all that line are
grays."

"This Storm Cloud, he's a runnin' hoss?"

"About the runnin'est horse in his part of the country, Callie. This filly
ought to pick up her heels some, if she takes after her dam and sire."

"What you namin' her?"

Up to that moment Drew had not really thought about it. The crisp air
blowing into the stable, carrying something beside the scents of the town,
gave him a suggestion.

"How about Sage, Callie?"

The boy thought seriously and then nodded. "Yeah--Sage. That's gray an'
it's purty, smells good, too."

Drew pulled up his shirt, dug into the pocket of the money belt for the
horse papers. "Got a pencil--or better--pen and ink around here anywhere?"

"Mister Kells, he keeps ledgers over in th' tack room. Got some ink an' a
pen there. How come you need that? You ain't makin' out no bill of sale on
her already, are you?" Callie was shocked.

"Hardly. Just want to put her down right and proper on the tally sheet."