Part 31 (1/2)
”Go ahead, get it over with!” He spat at Drew.
For a second Drew was bewildered, and then he suddenly guessed that the Union 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 spoke dryly, his accent and choice of words that of an educated man.
”What brand you think we're wearin', fella?” Kirby had come out of concealment, his Colt steady on the captives.
”Guerrillas, I'd say,” the sergeant returned hardily. Drew realized then that their mixture of clothing must have stamped them as the very outlaws they wanted to hunt down, as far as the Union troopers were concerned.
”Now that's wheah you're sure jumpin' your fences,” Kirby's half grin vanished. ”We're General Forrest's men, not guerrillas. Or ain't you never heard tell of Forrest's Cavalry? Seems like anyone wearin' blue an' forkin' a hoss ought to know who's been chasin' him to h.e.l.l an' gone over most of Tennessee. Lucky I ain't in a sod-pawin' mood, hombre, or I might jus' want to see how a blue-belly sarge looks without an ear on his 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 was sitting 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 blood showed 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 a warning.
”You're surrounded, subject to fire from both sides, Sergeant! I suggest surrender. You will be treated as prisoners of war and given parole. We _are_ from General Forrest's command. We're scouts. Believe me, if we had wished to, we could have shot every one of you out of the saddle before you knew we were here. Guerrillas would have done just that.”
The logic of that argument reached the Union sergeant. He still eyed Drew straightly, but there was a ruefulness rather than hostile defiance in his voice as he asked:
”What do you plan to do with us?”
”Nothing.” Drew was crisp. ”Give us your parole, leave your arms, your horses, 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,” Drew countered. ”As far as I am concerned, you can take it, we'll accept your word.”
”All right.” The other dismounted awkwardly, and with one hand unbuckled his saber, dropping his belt and gun.
Kirby went among the men gathering up their weapons. Then he and Drew tended the slight wounds of their enemies.
”You'll both do until you can get to town,” Drew told them. ”And you've a road and plenty of daylight to help you foot it....”
To Drew's surprise, the sergeant suddenly laughed. ”This ain't going to sit well with the captain. He swore all you Rebs were run out of here a couple of weeks ago.”
”You can a.s.sure 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 lot more.”
They watched the squad in blue, now afoot, plod on down the road. When they were out of sight around a bend, Webb and Croff came out of hiding to inspect the spoil. Unfortunately the Yankees had not possessed rations, but their opponents acquired five horses, five Springfields, four sabers, and three Colts, as well as welcome rounds of ammunition--a fine haul.
Croff methodically smashed the stocks of the Springfields against a rock and pitched the ruined weapons back of the fence. They had seen during the retreat just how useless those rifles were for mounted men. The sabers were broken the same way, but the rest of the plunder was shared.
Webb appropriated one of the captured mounts. They stripped the others of their gear, taking what they wanted in the way of blankets and saddle equipment, and were putting the horses on leading ropes when a volley of shots ripping through the early morning froze them. Croff whirled to face the road down which the Yankees had vanished.
”Came from that direction--”