We had our troubles.  When that bunch began to realize what was happening they didn't like it.  We wore our horses to a frazzle but we kept that herd on the trail right up to dusk to tire them out as much as to get distance behind us.  We kept a sharp lookout, but we saw no Indians.

Santa Fe was a smaller town than we expected, and it sure didn't shape up to more than a huddle of adobe houses built around a sunbaked plaza, but it was the most town I'd ever seen, or Orrin.

Folks stood in the doorways and shaded their eyes at us as we bunched our cows, and then three riders, Spanish men, started up the trail toward us.  They were cantering their horses and staring at us, then they broke into a gallop and came charging up with shrill yells that almost started our herd again.  It was Miguel, Pete Romero, and a rider named Abreu.

"Ho!"  Miguel was smiling.  "It is good to see you, amigo.  We have been watching for you.  Don Luis has asked that you be his guests for dinner."

"Does he know we're here?" Orrin was surprised.

Miguel glanced at him.  "Don Luis knows most things, senor.  A rider brought news from the Vegas."

They remained with the herd while we rode into town.

We walked over to the La Fonda and left our horses in the shade.  It was cool inside, and quiet.  It was shadowed there like a cathedral, only thisa here was no catherdral.  It was a drinking place, and a hotel, too, I guess.

Mostly they were Spanish men sitting around, talking it soft in that soft-sounding tongue of theirs, and it gave me a wonderful feeling of being a travelled man, of being in foreign parts.  A couple of them spoke to us, most polite.

We sat down and dug deep for the little we had.  Wasn't much but enough for a few glasses of wine and mayhap something to eat.  I liked hearing the soft murmur of voices, the click of glasses, and the click of heels on the floor.  Somewhere out back a woman laughed, and it was a mighty fine sound.

While we sat there an Army officer came in.  Tall man, thirtyish with a clean uniform and a stiff way of walking like those Army men have.  He had mighty fancy mustaches.

"Are you the men who own those cattle on th edge of town?"

"Are you in the market?" Orrin said.

"That depends on the price."

He sat down with us and ordered aglass of wine.

"I will be frank, gentlemen there has been a drought here and a lot of cattle have been lost.  Most of the stock is very thin.  Yours is the first fat beef we've seen."

Tom Sunday glanced up and smiled.  "We will want twenty-five dollars per head."

The captain merely glanced at him.  "Of course not," he said, then he smiled at us and lifted his glass.  "Your health -"

"What about Don Luis Alvarado?" Orrin asked suddenly.

The captain's expression stiffened a little and he asked,  "Are you one of the Pritts crowd?"

"No," Tom Sunday said, "we met the don out on the Plains.  Came west from Abilene with him, as a matter of fact."

"He's one of those who welcomed us in New Mexico.  Before we took over the Territory the MexIcan government was in no position to send troops to protect these colonies from the Indians.  And most of the trade was between Santa Fe and the States, rather than between Santa Fe and Mexico.  The don appreciated this, and most of the people here welcomed us."