e
barefoot, and dismounted men, was driving four-footed supplies south on
his way to the Tennessee River, and he was not likely to risk or
relinquish any of the spoil. Buford's Kentuckians lay in wait along the
Cumberland, hoping perhaps to echo, if only faintly, their earlier
successes against the gunboats and supply transports. And at Nashville a
battle was shaping....

Drew had ridden in to report when the first of the new retreat orders
came. General Buford, who had invited Drew up to the fire, sat listening
as the scout held his stiff hands to the blaze and listed the sum total
of the day's comings and goings as far as Yankee patrols were concerned.

"No sign of that missin' scout?" the General asked when Drew's account
was finished. "Pour yourself a cup of that, boy! It ain't coffee. In
fact, I don't inquire too deeply into what Lish does bring me to drink
nowadays. But it's kind of comfortin' to have something warm under your
belt in this weather. Blame-coldest, wettest winter I ever did see! No
sign of Weatherby?" he repeated as Drew sipped from the tin cup his
superior had pushed into his hands, not only grateful for the warmth
spreading through his insides, but also for the heat of the container he
cupped between his palms.

"No, suh, no sign at all."

"Hmm. That's strange." The General edged his solid bulk forward on his
stool, which creaked as his weight shifted. He poured himself a cup of
the same brew he had urged upon the scout. "Those were guerrillas right
enough. Scum from both sides, just out like buzzards to pick up what
they could. Only they were too far into our lines ... and bolder than
most. Doesn't fit somehow."

"Might be cover for Union scouts after all, suh?"

Buford shrugged. "Not very likely. If Weatherby does report in, send him
to me! Oh, by the way, Rennie, you're promoted to sergeant to take
Wilkins' place." The General sat gazing into the cup he held, but it was
plain his thoughts were far from the current substitute for coffee.

"Thank you, suh."

Buford glanced up. "Thank--? Oh, the sergeant business. Lieutenant
Traggart put you in for the first openin' some time ago. You had your
trainin' with Morgan, and you learned well. John Morgan ... hard to
think of him dead now. And Pat Cleburne ... and all the rest. We have to
close ranks and do double duty for all of them." Again he was speaking
his thoughts, Drew was sure. "Well, Sergeant Rennie, we will, we will!"

The courier w