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Updated: July 5, 2025
This object was successfully accomplished by the moving of Hooker's command to Rankin's and Brown's ferries in concert with a force from the Army of the Cumberland which was directed on the same points, so by the 27th of October direct communication with our depots was established.
In this position we fought the enemy more than one hour without receiving aid from any quarter whatever. So rapid were the movements of the 7th and so far were they in advance of our own brigade that our battery moved to the point first held by Captain Rankin's battalion and mistaking us for the enemy commenced shelling us.
But the very next day after the minister's daughter received her feather as if things were all coming right, thought Minty hopefully Uncle Kittredge sent her down to Lot Rankin's to find out when he would be strong enough to help Cyrus in the logging camp; and Jason gave her many charges concerning the contract she was to make with Lot.
Garrard ordered a charge by squadrons or companies in columns of fours, and ordered Captain Rankin's battalion to charge down the pike and out to the enemy's left. A universal shout went up from the regiment and at them they went, the woods being open and favorable for a charge.
"I ain't blackguardin' you none," said Webster easily. "It's the naked truth, an' you know it. Takin' your gun was part of my official duty. Personally I could have talked to you without trampling down any of the niceties of etiquette, but officially I had to have your gun." Rankin's face lengthened with a deep melancholy.
"I reckon we was," returned Texas coldly; "that's why I came here. I'm goin' to take that five thousand back to Socorro with me!" And now Buck used his right hand. But quick as he was, he was late. Rankin's gun gaped at him across the table the while his own weapon lagged tardily half-way in its holster. "I'm goin' to be a man again," said Texas.
For an instant the questioner seemed satisfied; then the peculiar inquiring look returned. "Anything else, son?" The lad hesitated longer than before. Beneath the coverings his body moved restlessly. "Yes, sir, I want to know why nobody would come to help my mamma if she'd sent for them. She said they wouldn't." The pipe left Rankin's mouth, his great jaws closing with an audible click.
The latter was weeping hysterically her head buried in her big checked apron, the great mass of her body vibrating with the effort. As Ben approached, her husband glanced up. Upon his face was the dull unreasoning indecision of a steer which had lost its leader; an animal passivity which awaited command. "Rankin's dead," he announced dully. "He's hit here."
She saw in Rankin's eyes a tenderness that went to her heart. She leaned to him from the steps of the car to which he swung her she leaned to him with a sweet, unconscious eagerness. In the instant before the car moved forward, as he stood gazing up at her, he spoke at last.
Up they came Grover of the far-away "XXX" ranch, who had been here for two days now, and had lost the price of a small herd; Gilbert of the "Lost Range," whose brand was a circle within a circle; Stetson of the "XI," a short heavy-set man, with an immovable pugilist's face, to-night, as usual, ahead of the game; Thompson, one-armed but formidable, who drove the stage and kept the postoffice and inadequate general store just across to the north of the saloon; McFadden, a wiry little Scotchman with sandy whiskers, Rankin's nearest neighbor to the south; a half-dozen lesser lights, in distinction from the big ranchers called by their first names, "Buck" or "Pete" or "Bill" as the case might be, mere cowmen employed at a salary.
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