Gabriel's Horses Read Online Free PDF Page A

hanging till I’m dead loosen my tongue and I blurt, “Sir, I ain’t no spy!”
    â€œNo spy?” Corporal Blue rears back as if astonished. “Then why you hiding in the trees?”
    I wave toward the racetrack. “I was yonder and heard your singing, and I wanted to see a Union soldier ’fore I left Lexington. That’s all. Oh, please, Corporal
sir
, don’t string me up. I jest a slave boy riding horses for Master Giles.”
    I clasp my fingers together, pleading. His lips are twitching in a smile, and the circle of soldiers bursts into guffaws.
    â€œBoy, we know you ain’t no Rebel spy,” Corporal Blue says, not unkindly. “You too clean and well-fed.”
    â€œYou ain’t going to hang me?”
    The corporal claps my shoulder. “We just joshing you. Come on, join us by the fire. I’m Corporal Benjamin Blue. What’s your name?”
    Hesitating, I glance over my shoulder, wondering if Pa’s missing me. My fear’s slowly dying, but my cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. I pleaded for mercy like a pigeon-hearted Rebel!
    Throwing back my shoulders, I muster a speck of dignity. “My name’s Gabriel Alexander.”
    Corporal Blue holds out his hand. “Welcome, Gabriel Alexander, to Company H of the 100th United States Colored Infantry.”
    I shake his hand, my fingers disappearing in his grip.
    â€œSo why you here?” he asks. “A runaway?”
    â€œNo sir. I’m from Woodville Farm. My master’s got a fine colt entered in the second race tomorrow at the Kentucky Association track.”
    â€œHear that?” Private Campbell calls around. “This boy says there’s a fine colt entered in the second race. You figure he going to win?” he addresses me.
    I nod firmly. “Tenpenny’s the fastest colt in Lexington, and Jackson’s the finest jockey.”
    Suddenly, the men around the campfire erupt. They call out horses’ names and lay bets. Tobacco plugs, coins, buckles, pocket watches, and smoking pipes are tossed into a pile. Private Campbell whips out a pencil and starts jotting down bets on the inside cover of a Bible. Seems the men of Company H have been studying on tomorrow’s race!
    Corporal Blue watches with an amused expression. “We do more betting than shooting, that’s for sure.”
    â€œWhat about fighting?” I ask. Now that there’s no threat of hanging, I aim to find out more about Company H.
    â€œFighting?” Corporal Blue grunts. “We just mustered in. We’re so new our boots squeak. ’Sides, we’re too busy toting and cooking for the white soldiers to fight Rebels.”
    â€œWhy are you toting and cooking for whites? You’re a Yankee soldier. Ain’t you free?”
    â€œOh, we’re free all right. Free to dig latrines, collect firewood, and haul water. Instead of the rifle, we wield the spade and ax. Most of these boys are ex-slaves who don’t know nothing ’cept work.” Corporal Blue touches the stripes on his shoulder. “Don’t misjudge us, though. We’re learning to clean our guns and drill, shoot straight, and march double-quick. We’re eager to fight. And when we get to Tennessee, we will,” he adds with pride.
    â€œAnd one day I’ll join you,” I declare. “Then I’ll be free, too. And able to fight those Rebels.” I make a pretend jab like I’ve got a bayonet.
    He chuckles. “You as skinny as a sapling. Too skinny to march far with a rifle, I reckon. But tag along with us. We can use a smart boy. We’ll make you our drummer. Then your new master will be the U.S. Army.”
    The idea tempts me though I’ve never tapped a drum. “Company H got any horses?”
    â€œNaw. Only officers and cavalry got horses.”
    â€œThen I’ll pass.” I don’t want to tell him how much I’d miss Ma and Pa, Tenpenny and Aristo.