"Magnífico!"
Drew glanced over Shiloh's back to the speaker. Coronel Oliveri paused in the doorway of the stable to study the stallion with almost exuberant admiration mirrored on his dark and mobile features.
"Don Cazar"—the Mexican officer raised a gloved hand in a beckoning gesture—"por favor, Excellency ... this one, he is of the Blood?"
Hunt Rennie joined Oliveri. "You are right. He is indeed of the Blood," he assented.
"It is past all hope then to offer for him?" Oliveri was smiling, but his eyes held a greedy glint Drew had seen before. Shiloh was apt to produce that reaction in any horseman.
"He is not mine to sell, Coronel. He belongs to Señor Kirby who stands there with him."
"So?" Oliveri's open astonishment irritated Drew. Maybe he did have on rough work clothes and look the part of a range drifter. But then when the Coronel had arrived here last night, he had not been too neat either.[pg 128]
"A fine horse, señor." Oliveri came on in, now including Drew in his gaze.
"I think so, Coronel," Drew returned shortly. He gave a last brush to flank and smoothed the saddle blanket.
"From a distance you have brought him, señor?" Oliveri walked about the stud as Drew went to fetch his saddle.