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Updated: September 6, 2025


Git Wilson's boys on the prod, for sure." "Franklin ?" Croff repeated. "Little below, maybe. From what that boy said, those bushwhackers move around pretty free," Drew reminded him, certain the Cherokee was back to the desire to search for Weatherby. "We'll see what kind of luck we have along this road, Injun-scouted. You take first watch, Injun?" "Yeah."

"Showin' themselves for bait, plainlike?" Kirby asked. "If we have to. The alarm will have gone out. I'm bettin' there're patrols thick on that road." "Any blue bellies travelin' theah now are gonna be bunched an' ready to shoot at anything movin'." "So," Croff cut in over Webb's instant objection, "you get some Yankees a-hittin' it up after you, and you run for here.

Cold as it is, a little fightin' would warm an hombre up some. You know, for sure, the only way we're gonna git outta this heah war is to fight our way out." Croff reined his patient mount around. "The big fight is comin' " "Nashville?" Drew asked, aware of a somber shadow closing in on them all. The Cherokee shrugged. "Nashville? Maybe. The signs are not good."

When Webb laid him flat again, the two men, working together, wrung out another square of torn blanket, and substituted its damp heat for the one which had been cooling against him. "What's the ... matter ? Shot?" Croff reached to bring into the firelight a belt strap. Dangling it, he held the buckle-end in Drew's line of vision.

Drew turned to Croff. "Goin' back to the Nations. Guess they had it hard there too, General Watie and the Union 'Pins' raidin' back and forth. They'll need schools though, and someone to teach 'em " "You a teacher, Injun?" Webb was plainly startled. "Startin' to be one, before the bands started playin' Dixie so loud," Croff said, smiling. "Maybe I've forgotten too much, though.

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