by Andre Norton
5
_Bardstown Surrenders_
"Now that's what I call true hospitality, gentlemen, true hospitality."Kirby caressed his middle section gently with both hands, smilingdreamily into the lacing of apple boughs over his head. "I ain't had mea feed like that since we took that sutler's wagon back outside MountSterlin'. 'Mos' forgot theah was such vittles lyin' 'bout to be sampled.An' you got us most of the cream, too, 'cause you're poor littlemisguided boys a-runnin' 'way to be with us desperate characters. Git mea bowie knife, an' I'll show you how to cut throats--all free, too."
Drew laughed, but Boyd did not appear amused. They had been favored witha short but pungent lecture from Mr. McKeever, served along with food,which to Drew made it worth the return of listening decorously to alisting of their sins.
"I ain't goin' home," Boyd repeated stubbornly.
"Well," Kirby pointed out, "if he rides up to the Yankee prison camp, heain't gonna find you neither. So what's the difference? I think weoughta be movin' on, seein' as how we ain't really on speakin' termswith the law heah 'bouts."
It would appear that Captain Campbell agreed with that. The order cameto saddle up and move out. But they went with provision sacks slung fromtheir saddles, a portion of McKeever's bounty stowed away againsttomorrow. And once they were past the house, the word came down the linefor Drew to quit his prisoner's role and join their commander.
Campbell held a fragment of map as he let his mount's pace fall to aslow walk. "There are about a hundred Union infantry stationed atBardstown, according to Mr. McKeever. Know anything about the town?"
"I was there once. My cousin went to St. Joseph's for a term."
"Remember enough to find your way around?"
"I don't know, suh. But if there's a Union garrison--?" He ended thesentence with an implied question.
"What are we going to do there?" The captain grinned. "We're going tocollect some arms, I hope. Supposing you were a Yankee commander,Rennie, and a bold, bad raider like General Morgan was to ride clean upto your door with a regiment or two tailing him and say: 'Your guns,suh, or your life!' What would you do, especially if your troops weremostly militia and green men who hadn't ever been in a real fight?"
Drew understood. "Probably, suh, I'd tell General Morgan that he couldhave his guns, providin' he kept his side of the bargain."
"As far as the Yankees in Bardstown may know, General Morgan could beheaded their way right now with a regiment. I don't think they've hadtime yet to learn just how badly we were scattered back there by theLicking River. You willing to take the flag in when we get there,Rennie? Pick a couple of outriders to go with you!"
It was risky, but no more risky than bluffs he had seen work before. Andthey did need the weapons. Cutting westward now only kept them wellinside Union territory. Somehow they would have to skulk or fight theirway down through the southern part of Kentucky and then probably all theway across Tennessee--a tall order, but one which was just possible ofaccomplishment.
"I'll do it, suh." Riding into Bardstown was no worse than riding overthe rest of this countryside where any moment they might be swept up bythe enemy.
It was lucky they had brought rations with them from McKeever's, forthey took no more chances of trying for such supplies again. Once morethey altered their advance, riding the pikes at night, hiding out byday.
Hills then, and among them Bardstown. Drew borrowed a carbine, stringinga dubiously white strip of shirt tail from its barrel, and flanked byKirby and Driscoll, a trooper Campbell had appointed, rode slowly up thebroad street opening from the pike. Great trees arched overhead, almostas they had across the drive of the McKeever place, and the houses werefine, equal to the best about Lexington.
A carriage pulled to the side, its two feminine occupants leaningforward a little under the tilt of dainty parasols, eyes wide. Whiletheir coachman stared open-mouthed at the three dirty, tatteredcavalrymen riding with an assumption of ease, though armed, down themiddle of the avenue.
"You, suh." It was the coachman who hailed Drew. "You soldier men?"
Drew reined in the black, who this time obeyed without protest. Theweary miles had taught the gelding submission if not perfect manners.Transferring his reins to the hand which also steadied the butt of hiscarbine against his thigh so that his "flag" was well in evidence, Drewswept off his dust-grayed hat and bowed to the ladies in the carriage.
"General Morgan's compliments, ladies," he said, loud enough for hiswords to carry beyond the vehicle to the townspeople gathering on thewalk. "Flag of truce comin' in, ma'am." He spoke directly to the elderof the two in the carriage. "Would you be so kind as to direct me towhere I may find the Union commander?"
"You're from John Hunt Morgan, young man?" She shut her parasol with asnap, held it as if she was considering its use as a weapon.
"Yes, ma'am. General Morgan, Confederate Army--"
She sniffed. "You'll find their captain at the inn, probably. Yankeesand whiskey apparently have an affinity for one another. So JohnMorgan's coming to pay us a visit?"
"Maybe, ma'am. And where may I find the inn?"
"Straight ahead," the girl answered. "You really are Morgan's men?"
Kirby did not have a hat to doff, but his bow in the saddle was asgraceful as Drew's.
"That's right, ma'am. My, did we know what we'd find in Bardstown now,we'd bin ridin' in right sooner!"
"Suh! ... Louisa!" The elder lady's intimidating glare was divided, butDrew thought that Louisa got more than a half share of it.
"No offense meant, ma'am. It's jus' that ridin' 'bout the way we do an'all, we don't git us a chance to say Howdy to ladies." The Texan'sexpression was properly contrite; his voice all diffidence.
"The inn, young men, is on down the street. Drive on, Horace!" sheordered the coachman. But as the carriage started, she pointed herparasol at Drew as a teacher might point an admonishing ruler at apupil. "I hope you'll find what you're looking for, young man. In theway of Yankees...."
"We generally do, ma'am," Kirby commented. "For us Yankees jus' turn upbright an' sassy all over the place."
Drew laughed. "Bright and sassy, then on the run!" For the success ofhis present mission and all those listening ears he ended that boast inas fervent a tone as he could summon.
"See that you keep them that way!" She enforced that order with a snapof parasol being reopened as the carriage moved from the shade back intothe patch of open sunlight.
"That sure was a pretty girl," observed Driscoll as Drew and the Texanwheeled back into line with him. "Wish we could settle down heah for saytwo or three days. Git some of the dust outta our throats and have achance to say Howdy to some friendly folks--"
"You'd be more likely sayin' Howdy to a Yankee prison guard if you didthat," Drew replied. "Let's find this inn and the garrison commander."
"That's the proper way of layin' it out--the inn an' _then_ business.Yankees an' whiskey go together; that's what she said, ain't it? I maybedon't weah no blue coat regular, but whiskey sounds sorta refreshin',don't it, now?"
"Just so you only think that, Anse, and don't try any tastin'," Drewwarned. "We make our big talk to this captain, and then we moveout--fast. You boys know the drill?"
"Sure," Driscoll repeated. "We're the big raiders come to gobble up allthe blue bellies, 'less they walk out all nice an' peaceful, leavin'their popguns behind 'em for better men to use. I'd say that theah wasthe inn, Rennie--"
They saw their first Yankees, a blot of blue by the horse trough at theedge of the center square. And Drew, surveying the enemy with a criticaland experienced eye, was sure that he was indeed meeting either greentroops or militia. They were as wide-eyed in their return stare as thecivilians on the streets around.
Kirby chuckled. "Strut it up, roosters," he urged from the corner of hismouth. "Cutthroats, banditti, hoss thieves--jus' downright bad hombres,that's us. They expect us to be on the peck, all horns an' rattles.Don't disappoint 'em none! Their tails is half curled up already, an'they're ready t
o run if a horny toad yells Boo!"
To the outward eye the three riding leisurely down the middle of theBardstown street had no interest in the soldiers by the trough. Drew inthe middle, the white rag dropping from the barrel of his carbine,brought the black a step or two in advance. Just so had Castleman riddeninto Lexington earlier, and that had been at night with a far more waryand dangerous enemy to face. The scout's confidence rose as he watched,without making any show of his surveillance, the uneasy men ahead.
One of them broke away from the group, and ran into the inn.
"Wonder who's roddin' this outfit," Kirby remarked. "That fella's goneto rout him out. Do your talkin' like a short-trigger man, Drew."
They pulled rein in front of the inn and sat their horses facing thedoor through which the soldier had disappeared. His fellows edgedaround the trough and stood in a straggling line to front theConfederates.
"You!" Drew caught the eye of the nearest. "Tell your commanding officerGeneral Morgan's flag is here!"
The Yankee was young, almost as young as Boyd, but he had less assurancethan Boyd. Now the boy stammered a little as he answered:
"Yes ... yes, sir." Then he added in a rush, "General who, sir?"
"General John Hunt Morgan, Confederate Cavalry, Army of the Tennessee,detached duty!" Drew made that as impressive as he could, whether it wasworded correctly according to military protocol or not. It was, hethought with satisfaction, a nicely rounded, important-sounding speech,although a bit short.
"Yes, sir!" The boy started for the door, but he was too late.
The man who erupted from that portal was short and stout, his face adramatic scarlet above the dark blue of his unbuttoned coat. He stoppedshort a step or two into the open and stood staring at the three onhorseback, that scarlet growing more dusky by the second.
"Who ... are ... you?" His demand was expelled in heavy puffs of breath.
"Flag from General Morgan," Drew repeated. Then to make it quite plain,he added kindly, "General John Hunt Morgan, Confederate Cavalry, Army ofthe Tennessee, detached duty."
"But, but Morgan was defeated ... at Cynthiana. He was broken--"
Slowly Drew shook his head. "The General has been reported defeatedbefore, suh. No, he's right here outside Bardstown. And I wouldn'trightly say he was broken either, not with a couple of regiments behindhim--"
"Couple of regiments!" The man was buttoning his coat, his red jowlssagging a little, almost as if Drew had used the carbine across hisunprotected head. "Couple of regiments ... Morgan ..." he repeateddazedly. "Well," sullenly he spoke to Drew, "what does he want?"
"You're a captain," Drew spoke crisply. "You'll return with us todiscuss surrender terms with an officer of equal rank!"
"Surrender!" For a moment some of the sag went out of the other.
"Two regiments--an' you have maybe eighty or ninety men." Kirby gazedwith critical disparagement at such Union forces as were visible.
"One hundred and twenty-five," the officer repeated mechanically andthen glared at the Texan.
"One hundred and twenty-five then." Kirby was willing to be generous."All ready to hold this heah town. I don't see no artillery neither." Herose in his stirrups to view the immediate scene. "Goin' to fight fromhouse to house maybe--?"
"General Morgan," Drew remarked to the company at large, "is not apatient man. But it's your decision, suh. If you want to make a fight ofit." He shrugged.
"No! Well, I'll talk ... listen to your terms anyway. Get my horse!" heroared at the nearest soldier.
They escorted the captain with due solemnity out of Bardstown to meetCampbell, a well-armed guard in evidence strung out on the pike. TheUnion officer picked up enough assurance to demand to see the Generalhimself, but Campbell's show of surprised hauteur at the request was anexpert's weapon in rebuttal; and the other not only subsided but agreedwithout undue protest to Campbell's statement of terms.
The Union detachment in town were to stack their arms in the square,leaving in addition their rations. They were to withdraw, unarmed, to afield outside and there await the patroling officer who would visit themin due course. Having agreed, the Union captain departed.
Campbell was already signaling the rest of the company out of cover.
"This is where we move fast. You all know what to do."
But much had to be left to chance. Drew and Kirby surrendered theirborrowed carbines to the rightful owners and prepared to join the firstwave of that quick dash.
_"Yahhhh-aww-wha--"_ There were no words in that, just the war cry whichmight have torn from an Indian warrior's throat, but which came insteadfrom between Kirby's lips: the famous Yell with all its yip of victoryas only an uninhibited Texan could deliver it. Then they were rushing,yelping in an answering chorus, four and five abreast, down the streetunder the shade of the trees, answered by screams and cries as the walksemptied before them.
Blue ranks broke up ahead, leaving rifles stacked, provisions inknapsacks. And the ragged crew struck at the spoil like a wave, lappingup arms, cartridge boxes, knapsacks. For only moments there was amilling pandemonium in the heart of Bardstown. Then once again that Yellwas raised, echoed, and the pound of hoofs made an artillery barrage ofsound. Armed, provisioned, and very much the masters of the scene,Morgan's men were heading out of town on the other side, leavingbewilderment behind.
They pushed the pace, knowing that the telegraph wires or the courierswould be spreading the news. Perhaps the reputation of their commandermight slow the inevitable pursuit, but it would not deter it entirely.They must put as much distance between themselves and the out-foxedUnion garrison as they could. And Campbell continued to point themwestward instead of south, since any enemy force would be marching inthe other direction to cut them off.
Even if men could stand that dogged pace, driven by determination andfear of capture, horses could not. And through the next two days theinference was very clear: fall behind at your own risk; there will be nowaiting for laggards to catch up. Nor any mounts furnished; you mustprovide your own.
Drew discovered the black gelding an increasing problem, but at leastthe horse provided transportation, and he tried to save the animal asbest he could. Though when it was impossible to unsaddle, when one hadto ride--and did--some twenty hours out of twenty-four, there was notmuch the most experienced horseman could do to relieve his mount.
Drew pulled up beside Kirby as he returned from a flank scout. The Texanhad dropped to the rear of the small troop, holding his horse to notmuch more than a walk. Now and then he glanced to the receding length ofthe road as if in search of someone.
"Where's Boyd?" Drew had ridden along the full length of the company andnowhere had he seen that blond head.
"Jus' what I'm wonderin'." Kirby came to a complete halt. "I came backa little while ago, and nobody's seen him."
Drew pulled in beside the other. His horse's head hung low as thegelding blew in gusty snorts. He tried to remember when he had seen Boydlast and when he did, that memory was not too encouraging.
"With Hilders ... and Cambridge ..." he said softly.
"Yeah." Kirby's thought seemed to match his. "Hilder's mare is jus'about beat, an' Boyd rides light; that bay he got is holdin' up like acorn-fed stud."
"They were talkin' to him when I went out on point." Drew followed hisown line of thought. "And he won't listen to me--"
"It don't foller that because you advise a hombre for his own good, he'sgoin' to take kindly to your interest in him," the Texan observed. "Youtell him Hilders an' Cambridge are wearin' skunk stripes, an' he's aptto claim 'em both as compadres. Suppose he don't come in when we beddown; he coulda jus' cut his picket rope an' drifted, as far as we canprove."
"Not if his bay turns up with one of them on top," Drew replied.
"Them two are of the curly wolf breed." Kirby shifted his newly acquiredEnfield. "No tellin' as how they would join up with us again did theymake such a switch; might figure as how they could make it better timedriftin' on their own."
The Texan had put his own fear into words. Drew pointed the gelding backdown the road and booted the animal into a trot. A moment later he heardmore drumming hoofs behind him; Kirby was following.
"This ain't your trouble," Drew reminded him.
"No, maybe it ain't. But then, me, I'm jus' a rough string rider fromway back, an' this may end in a smoke-up. Odds seem a mite one-sidednow--Hilders is easy on the trigger. He won't take kindly to anyonetryin' to hang up his hide for dryin'--"
Drew studied the hoof-churned dust of the road. He could only hold avery slim hope of some trace along its margin. The gelding stumbled andtried to cut pace. Drew hardened his will, holding the animal to thetrot. He knew that under saddle and blanket, sores were forming, thatsoon he would have no choice but a "trade" such as Hilders might beforcing now, though not at the expense of one of his own fellows.
Kirby was reading sign on the other side of the road. His sudden handsignal brought Drew to join him. Hoofprints marked the softer verge.
"Turned off not too long ago," Drew commented.
Kirby nodded toward the brush. They were facing a small woodland intowhich a thin trace of path led. Good cover for trouble. Looping reinsover his arm, Drew walked forward, Colt in hand, using scout tricks tocover the noise of his advance into the green shimmer of the trees.
The trail led ahead without any attempt at concealment. The other twotroopers must have tricked Boyd into taking that way; maybe they hadeven put a revolver on him once they were off the road. It was only tooeasy for a man to straggle from the company and not be missed untilhours and miles later.
"Now, sonny, there ain't no use makin' a big fuss...."
Drew dropped the reins and slipped on.
"You can see for yourself, boy, that m' hoss ain't gonna be able to gitmuch farther. You can nurse him along an' take it easy. Them bluebellies ain't gonna be hard on a nice little boy like you--no, suh,they ain't--even if they find you. We jus' trade fair an' square. Notrouble...."
"'Course," another, harsher voice cut in, "if you want to make it rough,well, that's what you'll git! We're takin' that hoss, no matter what!"
"You ain't!" There was a short snap of sound, the cocking of a hand gun.
"Pull that on me, will you!"
"I'll shoot! I'm warnin' you ... touch m' horse, and I'll shoot!" Boyd'svoice scaled higher.
Drew ran, his arm up to shield his face from the whip of branches. Hecame out at a small stream. Boyd was backed against a tree while the twoothers advanced on him from different directions.
"That's enough!" Drew's Colt was pointed at Hilders. The man's headjerked around. "Get goin'," the scout ordered.
Cambridge blinked stupidly, but Hilders took a step back to catch up thereins of a horse that stood dull-eyed, its head bent, pink foam ropingfrom its muzzle as it breathed in heavy gasps.
"I said--get!" Drew advanced, and Hilders gave ground again, towing thetrembling horse.
"Now, we don't want no trouble," Cambridge said hurriedly. "It wouldabin a fair trade.... Sonny, heah, ain't got place in the companyanyhow----"
"Get!" Drew's weapon raised a fraction of an inch. Cambridge's protestthickened into a mumble and he went. When both men had disappeared, Drewturned to Boyd.
"Put that away--" he flicked a finger at the other's Colt--"and mountup. We'll have to push to get back to the troop."
He watched the other lead the bay away from the stream side. Kirby wasright, the horse was in better condition than most of the others in thecompany, and sooner or later someone might again try to rank Boyd out ofit. There were a good many in that hunted column who would see that inthe same light as Hilders and Cambridge did and would say so, with theweight of public opinion to back them. Campbell had set their course forCalhoun--and in that town Boyd and the raiders must definitely partcompany.