Colt
flipped over and out, pointing into the shadows where the newcomer
emerged. Then the Kentuckian flushed and slammed his weapon back into the
holster. This was the buckskinned man who had whooped the train into town
that morning.

"Mite quick to show your iron, ain't you?" There was a chill in the
question, and Drew saw that the long rifle was still held at alert by its
owner.

"Cat-footin' up on a man ought to make you expect somethin' of a
reception," Drew countered.

"Yep, guess some men has sure got 'em a bellyful of lead doin' that." To
Drew's surprise the other was now grinning. "You huntin' someone?"

"No, just lookin' around." Drew longed to ask some things himself, but
hesitated. Frontier etiquette was different from Kentucky custom; it was
safer to be quiet when not sure.

"Wal, thar's aplenty to see tonight, right enough. Me--I'm Crow Fenner; I
ride scout fur th' train. An' these here--they're Rennie's Pimas, what o'
'em is runnin' th' trail this trip."

So these were the famous Pima Scouts! No wonder they took their ease in
the Tubacca plaza. Every man, woman, and child in those adobe buildings
had reason to be thankful for their skill and cunning--the web of
protection Rennie's Pima Scouts had woven in this river valley.

"I'm Kirby, Drew Kirby." He hastened to match one introduction with
another. "This is my first time in the valley--"

"From th' east, eh?"

"Texas."

"Texas...." Something in the way Fenner repeated that made it sound not
like a confirmation but a question. Or was Drew overly suspicious? After
all, as Callie had agreed last night, the late Republic of Texas was a
very large strip of country, housing a multitude of native sons, from the
planting families of the Brazos to the ranchers in crude cabins of the
Brasado. There were Texans and Texans, differing greatly in speech,
manners, and background. And one did not ask intimate questions of a man
riding west of the Pecos. Too often he might have come hunting a district
where there was a longer distance between sheriffs. What a man volunteered
about his past was accepted as the truth.

"Rode a far piece then," Fenner commented. "Me, I've been trailin' round
this here country since th' moon was two-bit size. An' I ain't set my
moccasins on all o' it yet. Thar's parts maybe even an Injun ain't seed
neither. You jus' outta th' army, son?"

Drew nodded. Apparently he could not escape that part of his past, and
there was no reas