The Cowboy MEGAPACK ®. Owen Wister

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ to go with you!”

      It was risky, but no more risky than bluffs he had seen work before. And they did need the weapons. Cutting westward now only kept them well inside Union territory. Somehow they would have to skulk or fight their way down through the southern part of Kentucky and then probably all the way across Tennessee—a tall order, but one which was just possible of accomplishment.

      “I’ll do it, suh.” Riding into Bardstown was no worse than riding over the rest of this countryside where any moment they might be swept up by the enemy.

      It was lucky they had brought rations with them from McKeever’s, for they took no more chances of trying for such supplies again. Once more they altered their advance, riding the pikes at night, hiding out by day.

      Hills then, and among them Bardstown. Drew borrowed a carbine, stringing a dubiously white strip of shirt tail from its barrel, and flanked by Kirby and Driscoll, a trooper Campbell had appointed, rode slowly up the broad street opening from the pike. Great trees arched overhead, almost as they had across the drive of the McKeever place, and the houses were fine, equal to the best about Lexington.

      A carriage pulled to the side, its two feminine occupants leaning forward a little under the tilt of dainty parasols, eyes wide. While their coachman stared open-mouthed at the three dirty, tattered cavalrymen riding with an assumption of ease, though armed, down the middle 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. The weary miles had taught the gelding submission if not perfect manners. Transferring his reins to the hand which also steadied the butt of his carbine against his thigh so that his “flag” was well in evidence, Drew swept off his dust-grayed hat and bowed to the ladies in the carriage.

      “General Morgan’s compliments, ladies,” he said, loud enough for his words to carry beyond the vehicle to the townspeople gathering on the walk. “Flag of truce comin’ in, ma’am.” He spoke directly to the elder of the two in the carriage. “Would you be so kind as to direct me to where I may find the Union commander?”

      “You’re from John Hunt Morgan, young man?” She shut her parasol with a snap, 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. Yankees and whiskey apparently have an affinity for one another. So John Morgan’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 as graceful 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, but Drew 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’s expression was properly contrite; his voice all diffidence.

      “The inn, young men, is on down the street. Drive on, Horace!” she ordered the coachman. But as the carriage started, she pointed her parasol at Drew as a teacher might point an admonishing ruler at a pupil. “I hope you’ll find what you’re looking for, young man. In the way of Yankees.…”

      “We generally do, ma’am,” Kirby commented. “For us Yankees jus’ turn up bright an’ sassy all over the place.”

      Drew laughed. “Bright and sassy, then on the run!” For the success of his present mission and all those listening ears he ended that boast in as fervent a tone as he could summon.

      “See that you keep them that way!” She enforced that order with a snap of parasol being reopened as the carriage moved from the shade back into the patch of open sunlight.

      “That sure was a pretty girl,” observed Driscoll as Drew and the Texan wheeled back into line with him. “Wish we could settle down heah for say two or three days. Git some of the dust outta our throats and have a chance to say Howdy to some friendly folks—”

      “You’d be more likely sayin’ Howdy to a Yankee prison guard if you did that,” 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 maybe don’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’,” Drew warned. “We make our big talk to this captain, and then we move out—fast. You boys know the drill?”

      “Sure,” Driscoll repeated. “We’re the big raiders come to gobble up all the 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 was the inn, Rennie—”

      They saw their first Yankees, a blot of blue by the horse trough at the edge of the center square. And Drew, surveying the enemy with a critical and experienced eye, was sure that he was indeed meeting either green troops or militia. They were as wide-eyed in their return stare as the civilians on the streets around.

      Kirby chuckled. “Strut it up, roosters,” he urged from the corner of his mouth. “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 to run if a horny toad yells Boo!”

      To the outward eye the three riding leisurely down the middle of the Bardstown street had no interest in the soldiers by the trough. Drew in the middle, the white rag dropping from the barrel of his carbine, brought the black a step or two in advance. Just so had Castleman ridden into Lexington earlier, and that had been at night with a far more wary and 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 gone to 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 the door through which the soldier had disappeared. His fellows edged around the trough and stood in a straggling line to front the Confederates.

      “You!” Drew caught the eye of the nearest. “Tell your commanding officer General Morgan’s flag is here!”

      The Yankee was young, almost as young as Boyd, but he had less assurance than 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, СКАЧАТЬ