by Andre Norton
15
_Independent Scout_
"What did the doc say?" Kirby, his blue overcoat a splotch of coloragainst the general drabness of the winter scene, came up towingHannibal and his own mount.
"Doesn't think he should try it." Drew made a lengthy business ofpulling on the knitted gloves he had acquired only that morning as aswap for a captured Yankee Colt.
The infantry, back under the solid security of Joe Johnston'sleadership, had marched on into North Carolina--to face Sherman'sdestructive sweep there. In the west, the only effective Confederateforce still in the field east of the Mississippi was Forrest's Cavalry.And they had been granted twenty days' furlough to return home if theycould get there, and gather clothing and fresh horses. The sun was fardown the western horizon of the Confederacy, but to the men who rodewith Forrest it had not yet set.
"Th' kid wants to go...."
That was the worst of it. When they listened to Boyd's eager talk, sawhim make the effort to get on his feet again, they were almost convincedthat the youngster could make the trip back through enemy-held territoryto Oak Hill. Kirby, though he had no ties in Kentucky, was willing tochance the journey to help Boyd home. But those miles between, wherethey must skulk and maybe even fight their way--living out, eating verylight--Boyd could not stand that. The surgeon's verdict was that such anidea was utter folly.
"I'll try to get a letter through with one of the boys," Drew said."Major Forbes ought to be able to furnish Cousin Merry with safe conducton that side; we could have the General take care of it from this end.Then she could take him home with her when he was able to travel."
"You write the letter fast. The Kaintucks are makin' tracks today--"
Drew swung into the saddle, and they headed back to camp.
"Now that we ain't headin' north, you thinkin' of joinin' Croff an'Webb?"
Men on furlough had been given their orders to collect supplies fromhome, but also to devil the Yankees when and where they could. They wereto fire into transports along the rivers and rout and capture any Unionpatrols small enough to be attacked when and where they came acrossthem. The Cherokee scout and others who could not return home asked fortheir own type of furlough, determined to hunt the district belowFranklin. Since such men could be of great nuisance value well withinthe enemy lines, they were granted permission and were even nowpreparing to move out.
Drew, who had held off from committing himself to the expedition untilhe had the final verdict on Boyd, knew that Kirby was eager to go. AndDrew felt that old restlessness, which gripped him whenever he thoughtof spending days in camp. He could do nothing for Boyd, but they mightbe able to accomplish something in Tennessee.
"All right." He saw Kirby grin at his answer. The plan was one after theTexan's heart, and Drew knew what it had meant to him to hold back fromit.
"You tell the kid?"
"Dr. Fairfax did." At least he had not had to deliver that blow, a smallrelief which did not, however, lighten his sense of responsibility.
"How'd he take it?"
"Quiet--on the surface."
The Boyd who once would have fought stubbornly to get his own way, theBoyd who would have pulled himself out of that big rocker and announcedfiercely that he was riding home whether the doctor said Yes or No--thatBoyd was gone. Perhaps this new acceptance of hard facts was a matter ofgrowing up. Drew clung to that. There was little he could do, except notgo home without him.
"The kid's gonna be all right?"
"Doc hopes so, if he takes it easy."
"Ever feel like this heah war's runnin' down?"
"I don't see how we can keep on much longer."
"Some of the boys are talkin' Texas. Git us down theah an' we can gooff--be a republic again. Wouldn't be the first time the Tejanos stoodup all by themselves. Supposin' this fightin' heah stops ... you ridin'for Texas?"
"I might."
Kirby slapped his hand on the horn of his Mexican saddle. "Now that'swhat an hombre wants to hear. You change pasture on a good colt, makeshim even fatter! Come blue bellies all ovah this heah territory, we jus'shift range. An' nobody gonna take Texas! Even the horny toads wouldspit straight in a Yankee's eye--"
"How 'bout it, Sarge?" They were at the cluster of rail-walled hutswhere the scouts had established a temporary headquarters. Webb hailedthem from the door of one of those dwellings where he was rolling up therubber cloth laid over corn husks to form the floor. "You Kaintuckbound?"
"No. Ridin' with you boys. Doc thinks Boyd can't try it."
"Good enough, Sarge. We're pullin' out soon as Injun draws us sometravelin' rations. Jus' enough to get us theah. We can eat off theYankees later."
Since 1861 the clothing of the Confederate Army at large had nevermatched the colorful sketches hopefully issued by the QuartermasterGeneral's department. Perhaps in Richmond or some state capitol thegold-lace exponents did appear in tasteful and well-tailored gray withthe proper insignia of rank. Forrest's men, equipped from the first bythe unwilling enemy, wore blue, a blue tempered tactfully andingeniously by butternut shirts, dyed breeches--when there was time todo any dyeing--and slouch hats. But as Drew rode out with his squad hemight have been leading a Union rather than a Rebel patrol, which, ofcourse, was part of the necessary cover for venturing into the jaws of avery alert lion.
Parts of West Tennessee were still Confederate-held and through thosethey rode openly. But the countryside could offer them nothing in theway of forage. Two armies had stripped it bare during the past fewmonths. Sometimes foraging parties on opposite sides had been known tocombine forces under a private truce, or had fought brisk, bitterskirmishes to decide which would collect the spoils. If there remained ahog or chicken still running loose, it certainly possessed the power ofinvisibility.
They slipped across the river in one of the boats kept by local contactsacting in the scouts' service. Drew questioned the boy who owned theirtransportation.
"Sure they's bummers-out. Yankees say they's ourn, but they ain't!" hereturned indignantly. "They ain't ridin' for nobody but their ownselves. Cut off a Yankee an' shoot him for the boots on his feet--do thesame if they want a hoss. Git ketched an' they tell as how they'sscouts, workin' secret-like. Scouts o' ourn--if we ketch 'em;Yankees--do the blue bellies take 'em. But they ain't nothin' butlowdown trash as nobody wants, for sure!" He dug his pole into the wateras if he were impaling a guerrilla on it. "They's mean, plenty mean,suh. Don't go foolin' 'round them!"
"Any special place they hang out?" Drew wanted to know.
The boy shook his head. "Oh, they holes up now an' then somewheahs. Butthey's a lotta empty houses 'bout nowadays. An' the bummers kin hide outgood without no one knowin' they be theah--till they git ready to jump.Cut off a supply wagon or raid a farm or somethin' like that."
"Ridin' the south side of the law." Kirby settled his gun belt in a morecomfortable circle about his thin middle. "Bet they know all the tricksof hoppin' back an' forth 'cross the border ahead of the sheriff, too.Time somebody collected bounty on those wolves' scalps."
Ridding the country of such vermin was indeed a worthy occupation. Andtheir private quest for an answer to Weatherby's fate might be a part ofthat. But their first duty was to the army: The gathering ofinformation, and any discomfort they could deal the Yankees, must betheir primary project.
Croff brought them into a camping site he had chosen for just such use.It lay at the head of a small rocky ravine down the center of which ranan ice-sealed thread of stream. It was not quite a cave, but providedshelter for them and their mounts. It was a clear night, and the groundwas reasonably hard.
They ate hard salt beef and cold army bread made with corn meal, grease,and water the night before.
"Leave here in the early mornin'." The Cherokee outlined hissuggestions. "There's a road leadin' to the turnpike that's three orfour miles from here. Last I heard, a bridge had washed out on the pike.Anybody ridin' from Pulaski to Columbia has to turn out and take thisother way--"
"Good cover on it
?" Drew asked.
"The best."
"I jus' got me one question," Kirby interrupted. "Say we was to gobbleus up a bunch of strayin' Yankees along this road, what're we gonna dowith 'em after? Four of us don't make no army, an' we ain't gonna beable to detach no prisoner guard. 'Course theah are them what's saidfrom the first that the only good Yankees are them laid peacefullike intheir graves. But I don't take natural to shootin' men what are holdin'up the sky with both hands."
"Orders are to spread confusion," Drew observed. "I'd say if we hitquick and often, take a prisoner's boots, maybe, and his horse, and hisgun--"
"Also," Webb added, "his rations an' his overcoat, be he wearin' one."
"Then turn him loose, after parolin' him--"
"The Yankees don't honor a parole no more," Kirby objected.
"What if they don't? A lot of men comin' in sayin' they've been paroledwill stir up trouble. Remember, from what we've heard, a lot of theYankees ain't any happier about fightin' on and on than we are. So wetake prisoners, get their gear, keep what we can use, destroy the rest,and turn the men loose. If we can move around enough, maybe we can drawsome of Wilson's men out of that big army he's supposed to be gatherin'to hit us south. It's the old game Morgan played."
Croff grunted. "It may be old, but I've seen it work. All right, weparole prisoners and light out cross-country after a strike."
"I've been thinkin'--" Kirby was checking the loading of his Colts--"ifwe start heah, we can sorta work our way in, coyote right up close toFranklin. They'll be expectin' us to light out for the home range, notgo jinglin' in to wheah they've forted up. Might raise a sight of smokethat way. Git Wilson's boys on the prod, for sure."
"Franklin--?" Croff repeated.
"Little below, maybe. From what that boy said, those bushwhackers movearound pretty free," Drew reminded him, certain the Cherokee was back tothe desire to search for Weatherby.
"We'll see what kind of luck we have along this road, Injun-scouted. Youtake first watch, Injun?"
"Yeah." Drew heard rather than saw the Cherokee leave their camp, boundfor a lookout point. The other three bedded down, anxious to snatch asmuch rest as possible.
Long before dawn they were on the move again, threading through thewinter-seared woods. Croff brought them out unerringly behind a saggingrail fence well masked with the skeleton brush of the season. There wasequally good cover on the other side of the road. Kirby climbed thefence, investigating a dark splotch on the surface of the lane.
"Fresh droppin's. Been a sight of trailin' 'long heah recent."
The rest was elementary. There was no need for orders. Croff and Webbholed up on one side of the lane well apart; Drew and Kirby did the sameon the other. Waiting would be sheer boredom and in this weather theheight of discomfort.
The gray of early morning sharpened the land about them. Boyd would haveenjoyed this game of tweaking a wildcat's tail. Drew chewed his lowerlip, tasting the salt of sweat, the grit of road dust. Just now was notime to think of Boyd; he must concentrate on the business before him.
He heard the sharp chittering of an aroused squirrel, repeated in twoshrill bursts. But his own ear close to the ground told him they were toexpect company. There was the regular thud of horses' hoofs, the soundof mounts ridden in company and at an even pace. The only remainingquestion was whether it was a Union patrol and small enough for the fourof them to handle.
One, two ... two more ... five of them, topping a small rise. A cavalrypatrol ... and the odds were not too impossible.
Drew sighted sergeant's stripes on the leader's jacket. It would dependupon how alert that noncom was. Wilson was drawing in new levies, sothese men could be new to the district, even green in the army.
The Yankee sergeant was past Kirby's post now, and after him the firsttwo of his squad. He paid no attention to the bushes.
Webb's carbine and Kirby's Colts cracked in what seemed like a singlespat of sound. One of the troopers in the rear shouted, grabbing at apoint high on his shoulder, the other one was thrown as his horsereared, its upraised forefeet striking another man from the saddle as heendeavored to turn his mount.
Drew fired, and saw the sergeant's carbine fall as he caught at thesaddle horn, his arm hanging limp.
"Surrender!" As Drew shouted that order into the tangle below, he leapedto the right. A single shot clipped through the bushes where he hadbeen, answered by a blast from Webb.
Then hands were up, men stared white-faced and sullen at the fencebehind which might be a whole company of the enemy. Drew came into theopen, the Spencer he had taken from Jas' covering the sergeant. For theexpression on the noncom's face suggested that, wounded as he was, hewould like nothing better than to carry on the struggle--with Drew ashis principal target.
"Go ahead, get it over with!" He spat at Drew.
For a second Drew was bewildered, and then he suddenly guessed that theUnion soldier expected to be shot out of hand.
His anger was hot. "We don't shoot prisoners!"
"No? The evidence is not in favor of that statement," the Yankee spokedryly, his accent and choice of words that of an educated man.
"What brand you think we're wearin', fella?" Kirby had come out ofconcealment, his Colt steady on the captives.
"Guerrillas, I'd say," the sergeant returned hardily. Drew realized thenthat their mixture of clothing must have stamped them as the veryoutlaws they wanted to hunt down, as far as the Union troopers wereconcerned.
"Now that's wheah you're sure jumpin' your fences," Kirby's half grinvanished. "We're General Forrest's men, not guerrillas. Or ain't younever heard tell of Forrest's Cavalry? Seems like anyone wearin' bluean' forkin' a hoss ought to know who's been chasin' him to Hell an' goneover most of Tennessee. Lucky I ain't in a sod-pawin' mood, hombre, or Imight jus' want to see how a blue-belly sarge looks without an ear onhis thick skull, or maybe try a few Comanche tricks of hair trimmin'!Guerrillas--!"
The Union sergeant glanced from Kirby and Drew to his own men. One wassitting on the edge of the road, nursing his head between his hands.Another had his hand to his shoulder, and the sticky red of fresh bloodshowed between his fingers. The two others, very young, stood nervously,their hands high. If the Yankee noncom was thinking of trying something,his material was not promising. Drew broke the moment of silence with awarning.
"You're surrounded, subject to fire from both sides, Sergeant! I suggestsurrender. You will be treated as prisoners of war and given parole. We_are_ from General Forrest's command. We're scouts. Believe me, if wehad wished to, we could have shot every one of you out of the saddlebefore you knew we were here. Guerrillas would have done just that."
The logic of that argument reached the Union sergeant. He still eyedDrew straightly, but there was a ruefulness rather than hostile defiancein his voice as he asked:
"What do you plan to do with us?"
"Nothing." Drew was crisp. "Give us your parole, leave your arms, yourhorses, your rations--if you are carrying any. Then you are free to go."
"We've been ordered not to take parole," the sergeant objected.
"General Forrest hasn't given any orders not to grant it," Drewcountered. "As far as I am concerned, you can take it, we'll accept yourword."
"All right." The other dismounted awkwardly, and with one hand unbuckledhis saber, dropping his belt and gun.
Kirby went among the men gathering up their weapons. Then he and Drewtended the slight wounds of their enemies.
"You'll both do until you can get to town," Drew told them. "And you'vea road and plenty of daylight to help you foot it...."
To Drew's surprise, the sergeant suddenly laughed. "This ain't going tosit well with the captain. He swore all you Rebs were run out of here acouple of weeks ago."
"You can assure him he's wrong." Drew saw a chance to confuse the enemy."We're very much around. You'll be seem' a lot of us from now on, a lotmore."
They watched the squad in blue, now afoot, plod on down the road. Whenthey were out of sight aroun
d a bend, Webb and Croff came out of hidingto inspect the spoil. Unfortunately the Yankees had not possessedrations, but their opponents acquired five horses, five Springfields,four sabers, and three Colts, as well as welcome rounds of ammunition--afine haul.
Croff methodically smashed the stocks of the Springfields against a rockand pitched the ruined weapons back of the fence. They had seen duringthe retreat just how useless those rifles were for mounted men. Thesabers were broken the same way, but the rest of the plunder was shared.
Webb appropriated one of the captured mounts. They stripped the othersof their gear, taking what they wanted in the way of blankets and saddleequipment, and were putting the horses on leading ropes when a volley ofshots ripping through the early morning froze them. Croff whirled toface the road down which the Yankees had vanished.
"Came from that direction--"
They mounted, taking not the open road but a cross route the Cherokeeindicated. Coming out on the crest of a slope, they were above anotherof those hollows through which the road ran. And in that way lay stillblue figures. Drew's carbine swung up as men broke from ambush andheaded toward those forms. No Confederate force would have wantonlybutchered unarmed and wounded men, nor would the Yankees. Which left thescum they both hated--the bushwhackers!
Just as the crack of the murder guns had earlier torn the quiet, so didthe Confederate answer come now. Three of those advancing on theirvictims dropped. One more cried out, staggering toward the concealingbush. Then more broke from cover beyond, going into flight up the otherrise.
"Croff! Webb! After them!" The Cherokee scout was already booting hishorse into a run.
Drew and Kirby reached the road together. Slipping from Hannibal, Drewknelt by the Union sergeant, turning the man over as gently as he could.But there was no hope. The Yankee's eyes opened; he stared up with acold and terrible hate.
"Shot us ... after all ... murder--" he mouthed.
"No!" Drew cried his protest. "Not us--"
But that head rolled on his arm, and Drew was forced to swallow the factthat the other had died believing that treachery. Kirby arose from theexamination of the rest of the bodies.
"Got 'em all. Musta bin as easy as shootin' weanlin's. They didn't havea chance! We got three--" He made a circle about one of the deadguerrillas--"but that don't balance none."
Drew lowered the dead sergeant to the surface of the road.
"It sure doesn't!" he said bleakly. "We'll go after them--if we have toride clear to the Ohio!"