"You mean he might be stolen, suh?" Drew clicked his empty glass down on the table.
"No, he might be killed!" And Rennie's tone indicated he meant just that.
"How...why?"
"There are wild-horse bands out there, though we're trying to capture or run them off the Range. And a wild stud will always try to add mares to his band. Because he has fought many times to keep or take mares, he is a formidable and vicious opponent, one that an imported, tamed stud can rarely best. Right now, coming into Big Rock well for water is a pinto that has killed three other stallions—including a black I imported back in '60—and two of them were larger, heavier animals than he.
"The Trinfans are moving down into that section this week. I hope they can break up that band, run down the stud anyway. He has courage and cunning, but his blood is not a line we want for foals on this range. So Shiloh stays here at the Stronghold; don't risk him loose."
"Yes, suh. What about these wild ones—they worth huntin'?"
"They're mixed; some are scrubs, inbred, poor stuff. But[pg 065] a few fine ones turn up. Mostly when they do they're strays or bred from strays—escaped from horse thieves or Indians. If the mustangers here pick up any branded ones, they're returned to the owners, if possible, or sold at a yearly auction. By the old Mexican law the hunting season for horses runs from October to March. Foals are old enough then to be branded. Speaking of foals, you left your mare and the filly in town?"
"Kells'll give them stable room till next month. I can bring them out then."
"We'll have a delivery of remounts to make to the camp about then. You can help haze those in and pick up your own stock on return."
León appeared in the doorway. "Don Cazar, the mesteneoes—they arrive."