s ever backward on the track."

"You ridin' yourself?" Shannon paid no attention to the gambler's comment.

Drew nodded. "He knows me, and I ride light--"

"Sure, I suppose you do--now." Shannon's eyes flickered again, this time to
the locked cupboard. "Heard tell--leastways Callie's been spoutin' it
around--that you was with General Forrest."

"Yes."

"You sure musta pulled outta th' war better'n th' rest of us poor Rebs.
Got you a couple of blooded hosses an' a good heavy money belt. A sight
more luck than th' rest of us had--"

"Don't include yourself in the empty-pocket brigade, Johnny," Topham
rapped out. "I don't see you going without eating money, drinking money
either, more's a pity. And if you're really looking for Rennie now, you'll
find him down at the course."

Shannon's smile was gone. He straightened away from the door frame which
had been supporting his shoulders. "Thanks a lot, Reese." He left with the
same abruptness as he had from the stable alley.

"So you're riding yourself." Topham ignored the departure. "Leon Rivas,
Bartolome's son, will be up on Oro; he always rides for Rennie. He's
younger than you, but I'd say"--the gambler studied Drew's lithe body
critically--"you're about matched in weight. I'd shuck that gun belt,
though, and anything else you can. And good luck, Kirby. You'll need all
of it you can muster."

An hour later Drew followed Topham's advice, leaving gun belt, carbine,
and everything else he could unload in Callie's keeping before he swung up
on Shiloh. The big colt was nervous, tending to dance sideways, tossing
his head high. Drew concentrated on the business at hand, striving to
forget the crowd opening up to let him through, shouting encouragement or
disparagement. Ahead was the appointed track, a beaten stretch of earth,
part of the old road leading to the mines. The Kentuckian talked to Shiloh
as they went, keeping up a stream of words to firm the bond between horse
and rider.

There was a knot of men surrounding the golden horse, and as his rider
mounted, Oro put on a good show, rearing to paw the air with his forefeet
as if he wished nothing better than to meet his gray rival in an impromptu
boxing match. Then he nodded his head vigorously, acknowledging the shouts
from his enthusiastic supporters. Beside that magnificent blaze of color
Shiloh was drab, a shadow about to be put to flight by the sun.

They were to break at a starting shot, head to the big tree w