United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Juvenile fiction
For a moment she looked at him uncomprehendingly, and then her eyes
shifted to the gelding. She came forward a step or two, and there was a
blaze of anger in the gaze she directed once more to the man.
"That horse's galled raw!" She accused.
"Don't you think I know it?" he returned abruptly. "That's why I have to
have another mount."
A quick step back and she was between him and the door of the barn,
holding the basket as a shield between them. It was full of eggs.
"You won't get one here!" she snapped.
"Ma'am"--Drew had his temper under control now--"I don't want to take
your horse if you have one. But I'm under orders to keep up with the
company. And I'm goin' to do what I have to...."
He dropped the gelding's reins, walked forward, hoping she wouldn't make
him push around her. But apparently she read the determination in his
face and stood aside, her expression bleak now.
"There's only King in there," she said. "And I wish you the joy of him,
you thief!"
King proved to be a stallion, stabled in a box stall. Drew hesitated.
The stud might be mean, harder to handle even than the gelding. But it
was either taking him or being put afoot. If he could back this one even
as far as Calhoun tomorrow--or the next day--he might be able to make a
better exchange in town. It would depend on just how hard the stallion
was to control.
Making soothing noises, he worked fast to bit and bridle the big
chestnut. His experience with the Red Springs stud led him aright now.
He came out of the barn leading the horse while the dog, its first
incessant clamor stilled, growled menacingly from the end of its chain.
The woman had disappeared, maybe into the fields beyond in search of
help. Drew departed at a swift trot to where he had left Boyd.
"That's all horse!" Boyd eyed Drew's trade excitedly.
"Too much so, maybe. We'll see." He saddled quickly, glad that so far
the chestnut had proved amiable. But how the stud might behave in troop
company he had yet to learn. He mounted and waited for any signs of
resentment, remembering the woman's warning. King snorted, pawed the
dust a bit, but trotted on when Drew urged him.
Kirby whistled from where he rode with the rear guard as they rejoined
the company. But Captain Campbell frowned. And King put on a display of
fireworks which almost shook Drew out of the saddle, rearing and pawing
the air.
"Makes like a horny one on the prod," commented the Texan. "That's
stud's a lotta hoss to handle, amigo."
"Too much," the captain echoed Drew's earlier misgivings. "Keep him away
from the rest until you're sure he won't start anything!"
But that order fitted in with Drew's usual scouting duties. And when he
did bed down for one of the fugitives' limited halts he was careful to
stake King away from the improvised picket lines.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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