Part 8 (1/2)
As Boyd opened his mouth to protest, Drew spoke quickly:
”Thank you, suh. I know Cousin Merry will appreciate that.”
With a last a.s.surance of his intention to help them, Mr. McKeever left.
Boyd grinned.
”He did help me,” he observed. ”He knows now I'm with Morgan, and n.o.body can say that's not so!”
Kirby laughed. ”Reckon that's true, kid. You locked yourself right into the corral along with the rest of us bad men. Look's like you've been outfought this time, Rennie.”
Drew threw himself back under the tree. So Boyd had won this round--they were still in Kentucky and not too far from Oak Hill.
5
_Bardstown Surrenders_
”Now that's what I call true hospitality, gentlemen, true hospitality.”
Kirby caressed his middle section gently with both hands, smiling dreamily into the lacing of apple boughs over his head. ”I ain't had me a feed like that since we took that sutler's wagon back outside Mount Sterlin'. 'Mos' forgot theah was such vittles lyin' 'bout to be sampled.
An' you got us most of the cream, too, 'cause you're poor little misguided boys a-runnin' 'way to be with us desperate characters. Git me a 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 with a short but pungent lecture from Mr. McKeever, served along with food, which to Drew made it worth the return of listening decorously to a listing of their sins.
”I ain't goin' home,” Boyd repeated stubbornly.
”Well,” Kirby pointed out, ”if he rides up to the Yankee prison camp, he ain't gonna find you neither. So what's the difference? I think we oughta be movin' on, seein' as how we ain't really on speakin' terms with the law heah 'bouts.”
It would appear that Captain Campbell agreed with that. The order came to saddle up and move out. But they went with provision sacks slung from their saddles, a portion of McKeever's bounty stowed away against tomorrow. And once they were past the house, the word came down the line for 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 a slow walk. ”There are about a hundred Union infantry stationed at Bardstown, 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 the sentence with an implied question.
”What are we going to do there?” The captain grinned. ”We're going to collect some arms, I hope. Supposing you were a Yankee commander, Rennie, and a bold, bad raider like General Morgan was to ride clean up to 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 were mostly militia and green men who hadn't ever been in a real fight?”
Drew understood. ”Probably, suh, I'd tell General Morgan that he could have his guns, providin' he kept his side of the bargain.”
”As far as the Yankees in Bardstown may know, General Morgan could be headed their way right now with a regiment. I don't think they've had time yet to learn just how badly we were scattered back there by the Licking 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. 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.