United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
“I had the privilege of meeting her once or twice briefly while in
Sheridan's lines,” I answered hurriedly “and have reason to indorse all
you say regarding the lady, especially as to her dislike of everything
clad in gray uniform. But the men appear to be straggling somewhat,
Lieutenant; perhaps it would be as well to brace them up a bit.”
I rode slowly forward to my own position at the head of the troop,
wondering at the strange coincidence which had placed Edith Brennan's
name upon Colgate's lips. Her memory had been brought back to me with
renewed freshness by his chance words, and so strongly did it haunt
me as to be almost a visible presence. As I swung my horse into our
accustomed position I was too deeply buried in reflection to be clearly
conscious of much that was occurring about me. Suddenly, however, I
became aware that some one, nearly obscured by the enveloping cloud
of dust, was riding without the column, in an independence of military
discipline not to be permitted. In the state of mind I was then in this
discovery strangely irritated me.
“Sergeant,” I questioned sharply, of the raw-boned trooper at the end of
the first platoon, “what fellow is that riding out yonder?”
“It's ther pesky little cuss as come in with ye yesterday, sir,” he
returned with a grin. “He's confiscated a muel somewhar an' says he's a
goin' back hum 'long o' we uns.”
Curious to learn how Jed had emerged from his arduous adventures, I
spurred my horse alongside of him.
The little man, bending forward dubiously, as if fearful of accident,
was riding bareback on a gaunt, long-legged mule, which, judging from
all outward appearances, must have been some discarded asset of the
quartermaster's department. The animal was evidently a complete wreck,
and drooped along, dragging one foot heavily after the other as if every
move were liable to be the last, his head hanging dejectedly, while
his long ears flopped solemnly over the half-closed eyes at each
step. Altogether the two composed so melancholy a picture it was with
difficulty I suppressed my strong inclination to laugh.
“Going home, Jed?” I asked, as he glanced up and saw me.
“Jist as durn quick as I kin git thar,” he returned emphatically. “By
gum, Cap, I ain't bin 'way from Mariar long as this afore in twelve
year. Reckon she thinks I've skedaddled fer good this time, an' 'ill
be a takin' up with some other male critter lest I git back thar mighty
sudden. Women's odd, Cap, durn nigh as ornary 'bout some things as a
muel.”
“I have never enjoyed much experience with them,” I said, “but I
confess to knowing something about mules. Now that seems to be rather an
extraordinary specimen you are riding.”
He eyed his mount critically.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account