Part 19 (2/2)

Come home to us, I ask you to do this, my dear boy. We shall welcome you.

I pray for you and for Boyd, that you may both be brought safely through all the dangers which surround a soldier, that you may come home to us on a happier day. Your concern for and care of Boyd is something which makes me most grateful and happy. He had lost a brother, one of his own blood, but I content myself with the belief that he has with him now another who will provide him with what guidance and protection he can give.

Remember--we want you both here with us once more, and let it be soon.

With affection and love,

Drew could not have told whether her ”Meredith Barrett” at the bottom of the page was as firmly penned as ever. To him it was now wavering from one misty letter to the next. Slowly he made a business of folding the sheet into a neat square of paper which he could fit into the safe pocket under his belt. A crack was forming in the sh.e.l.l he had started to grow on the night he first rode out of Red Springs, and he now feared losing its protection. He wanted to be the Drew Rennie who had no ties anywhere, least of all in Kentucky. Yet not for the world would he have lost that letter, though he did not want to read it again.

”Rennie! Double-quick it; the General's askin' for you!”

Boyd started up eagerly from his perch on another saddle. He was, Drew decided, like a hound puppy, so determined to be taken hunting that he watched each and every one of them all the time. He had been allowed to ride on this return visit to West Tennessee with the condition that he would act as one of Drew's scout couriers, a position which kept him under his elder's control and attached to General Buford's Headquarters Company.

Kirby reached out a brown hand to catch Boyd by the sleeve and anchor him.

”Now, kid, jus' because the big chief sends for him, it ain't no sign he's goin' to take the warpath immediately, if not sooner. Ease off, an'

keep your moccasins greased!”

Drew laughed. n.o.body who rode with Forrest could complain of a lack of action. He had heard that some general in the East had said he would give a dollar or some such to see a dead cavalryman. Well, there had been sight of those at Harrisburg and some at the blockhouses. Forrest stated that Morgan's men could fight; he did not have to say that of his own.

Now they were heading into another sort of war altogether. Drew hadn't figured out just how Bedford Forrest intended to fight river gunboats with horse soldiers, but the scout didn't doubt that his general had a plan, one which would work, barring any extra bad luck.

They were setting a trap along the Tennessee right now, lying in the enemies' own back pasture to do it. South, downriver, was Johnsonville, where Sherman had his largest cache of supplies, from which he was feeding, clothing, equipping the army now slas.h.i.+ng through the center of the South. They had been able to cripple his rail system partially on that raid two weeks earlier; now they were aiming to cut the river ribbon of the Yankee network.

Buford's division occupied Fort Heiman, well above the crucial section.

The Confederates also held Paris Landing. Now they were set to put the squeeze on any river traffic. Guns were brought into station--Buford's two Parrots, one section of Morton's incomparable battery with Bell's Tennesseeans down at the Landing. They had moved fast, covered their traces, and Drew himself could testify that the Yankees were as yet unsuspecting of their presence in the neighborhood.

He found General Buford now and reported.

”Rennie, see this bend....” The General's finger stabbed down on the sketch map the scouts had prepared days earlier. ”I've been thinkin'

that a vedette posted right here could give us perhaps a few minutes of warning ahead when anything started to swim into this fishnet of ours.

General Forrest wants some transports, maybe even a gunboat or two.

We're in a good position to deliver them to him, but before we begin the game, I want most of the aces right here--” He smacked the map against the flat of his other palm.

”A signal system, suh. Say one of those--” Drew pointed to the very large and very red handkerchief trailing from Buford's coat pocket.

”Wave one of those out of the bushes: one wave for a transport, two for a gunboat.”

The General jerked the big square from his pocket, inspected it critically, and then called over his shoulder.

”Jasper, you get me another one of these--out of the saddlebags!”

When the Negro boy came running with the piece of brilliant cloth, Buford motioned for him to give it to Drew.

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