Part 37 (1/2)

”But your horse!”

Boyd grinned. ”Looky here, Drew, more'n half of this heah Reb army is footin' it home. I guess I can cross two little states without it finis.h.i.+n' me off--leastwise I reckon anyone who has toughened it out with General Forrest can do that much.”

Drew turned the spurs around in hands which were a little shaky. ”We got Croaker, and we'll take turns ridin'. No, two states ain't too far for a couple of troopers, specially if they have them a good stout mule into the bargain!”

A hot copper sun turned late Kentucky May into August weeks ahead of season. Thunder muttered sullenly beyond the horizon. And a breeze picked up road dust and grit, plastering it to Croaker's sweating hide, their own unwashed skin.

”Better ... ride....” Licking dust from his lips, Drew watched the weaving figure on the other side of the mule with dull concern. They were steadying themselves by a tight grip on the stirrups, and Croaker was supporting and towing them, rather than their steering him.

Boyd's head lifted. ”Ride yourself!” He got a ghost of his old defiance into that, though his voice was hardly more than a harsh croak of whisper. ”I ain't givin' in now!”

He leased his stirrup hold, staggering forward a step or two, and would have gone face-down on the turnpike if Drew had not made a big effort to reach him. But the other's weight bore him along, and they both sprawled on the road. Croaker came to a halt, his head hanging until he could have nuzzled Drew's shoulder.

They had made a brave start from Alabama, keeping up with the company they joined until they were close to the Kentucky-Tennessee border. Then a blistered heel had forced Drew into the rider's role for two days, and they had fallen behind. The rations they had drawn had been stretched as far as they would go. Even though there were people along the way willing to feed a hungry soldier, there were too many hungry soldiers.

The farther north they traveled there was also a growing number of places where a blue coat might be welcome, but a gray one still signified ”enemy.”

Drew moved, and raised Boyd's head and shoulders to his knee. If he could summon enough energy to reach the canteen hanging from Croaker's saddle.... Somehow he did, recklessly spilling a cupful of its contents on Boyd's face, and turning road dust into flecks of mud which freckled the gaunt cheeks.

”Ain't goin' t' ride--” Boyd's eyes opened and he took up the argument again.

”Well,” Drew lashed out, ”I can't carry you! Or do you expect to be dragged?”

Boyd's face crumpled and he flung up his arms to hide his eyes.

”All right.”

With the aid of a sloping bank and an effort which left them both weakly panting, Boyd was mounted and they started their slow crawl once more.

”Drew!”

He raised his head. Boyd had straightened in the saddle and was pointing ahead, though his outstretched hand was shaking. ”We made it--there's home!”

Beyond was the green of trees, a whole line of trees curving along a gravel carriage drive. But somehow Drew could not match Boyd's joy. He was tired, so tired that he was aware of nothing really but the aching weariness of his body.

They turned into the drive, the gravel crunching into his holed boots while the tree shadows made a green twilight. Croaker came to a stop, and Drew's eyes raised from the gravel to the line of one step and then another. His gaze finally came to a broad veranda ... to someone who had been sitting there and who was now on her feet, staring wide-eyed back at the three of them. Then the gravel came up in a wave and he was swallowed up in it and darkness--

The sun, warm through the window, awoke a glint of reflection from the top of the chest of drawers where rested a round cord of bullion with two ta.s.sels and a pair of fancy spurs. The wink of light was reflected again from the mirror before which Drew stood.

”Jefferson's s.h.i.+rt has long enough sleeves, but all these billows!”

Cousin Merry's tongue clicked against her teeth in exasperation. Her hand was in the middle of Drew's back, gathering up a good pleating of linen, but he still had extra folds of cloth to spare over his ribs.

Four days of rest and plenty of food was not sufficient to restore any padding to his frame. ”You certainly grew one way, but not the other!”

Boyd, established in the big chair by the window, laughed.

”I could take a few tucks,” Drew offered.

”_You_ could take a few tucks!” Her astonished face showed in the gla.s.s above his shoulder.

”Oh, I'm not too bad with a needle. Did you note those neat patches on my breeches--?”