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Just as the crack of the murder guns had earlier torn the quiet, so did the Confederate answer come now. Three of those advancing on their victims dropped. One more cried out, staggering toward the concealing bush. Then more broke from cover beyond, going into flight up the other rise. "Croff! Webb! After them!" The Cherokee scout was already booting his horse into a run.
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 " They mounted, taking not the open road but a cross route the Cherokee indicated.
"While I was laid up, Privates Croff and Webb took turns on scout, suh. They located some of our men hidin' out stragglers from the retreat. They also rounded up a few of the bushwhackers' horses and mules." Forrest nodded. "You returned to our lines with some fifteen men and ten mounts, as well as information. Your losses?" Drew stared at the wall behind the General's head.
He dared not erupt into the bushwhacker campsite, or could he? If Croff and Webb were now making their way to the heights above, ready to fire into the camp as they had planned, wouldn't that keep the men there busy and cover his own break into the valley? He heard firing again; this time the sound was ahead of him.
Injun, he could still be out there now ... bleedin' hurt...." Croff shook his head. "I backtracked all along that way after we found you. There was some blood on the grass, but that could have come from one of the bushwhackers. There was no trace of Anse, anywhere." "What if he was taken prisoner!"
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.
There was Larange, coming back from the horse lines, Webb, the Tennesseean from the mountains, Croff and Weatherby, Cherokees of the Indian Nations, and Kirby, of course. But Drew was searching beyond the Texan for the other who should be there. Absently he sipped the hot water, almost afraid to ask a question. Then, just because of his inner fears, he forced out the words: "Where's Boyd?"
There were the same shelters ingeniously constructed of brush and logs and a picket line for horses and mules. This hole must harbor a high percentage of deserters from both armies. "Only four of us," Kirby remarked. "'Course I know we're the tall men of the army, but ain't this runnin' the odds a mite high?" Croff chuckled. "He's got a point there, Sarge."
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.
So we take prisoners, get their gear, keep what we can use, destroy the rest, and turn the men loose. If we can move around enough, maybe we can draw some of Wilson's men out of that big army he's supposed to be gatherin' to hit us south. It's the old game Morgan played." Croff grunted. "It may be old, but I've seen it work.
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