Raiding With Morgan Read Online Free PDF

four-day supply in two. It was a mistake he wouldn’t repeat, for he was in no position to beg for food and didn’t know when he would eat next.
    Ty’s destination was the largest house on Garnettsville’s single main street. Troopers jammed the porch and front yard of the Rainer home, a white-painted, two-story frame dwelling. Moving bodies passed each other behind parlor windows. Mounted messengers came and went in rapid succession. Ty figured he was approaching General Morgan’s temporary headquarters. Nothing else would account for such frenzied activity.
    Five Morgan troopers were seated around the fire in the woodlot on the right side of the house. Sentry Frank announced himself and a trooper on the near side of the crackling fire stood in response. “State your business, Sergeant Lockhart.”
    â€œLieutenant Shannon, I’m fetching a squirt we captured on the south road, sir.”
    At first, Lieutenant Shannon was a shadow against the light of the flames. When he came forward, Ty made him out by moonlight and the yellow glow spilling from the windows of General Morgan’s temporary headquarters. The bareheaded lieutenant was broad-shouldered, with wavy black hair and midnight eyes. His Texas garb and scorched face bespoke a horseman who had spent considerable years where the blazing sun threatened to burn holes in the ground. Huge LeMat revolvers adorned both his hips. Those pistols, the intense midnight eyes, and the slight swagger in the lieutenant’s stride convinced Ty that he was about to be confronted by a dangerous, no-nonsense soldier capable of swift, forceful action.
    Without so much as a nod in Ty’s direction, Lieutenant Shannon said, “Sergeant Lockhart, this captive is a stranger in our camp and he’s armed. Please explain your violation of brigade regulations.”
    Questioning his own wisdom, Sergeant Lockhart shuffled his feet. “Sir, he’s no Yankee. He’s dressed like you. He says he’s Ty Mattson, Captain Mattson’s son. He told us Captain Mattson trained him not to surrender his weapon or he’d be punished. That’s the same thing the captain pounds into us at drill. Sorry, sir, but I believed him.”
    â€œWe’ll discuss this matter at length later this evening, Sergeant, and determine if punishment is warranted. You may return to your post.”
    Lieutenant Shannon finally acknowledged Ty’s presence. He minced no words. “Sprout, the question is what to do with you. Maybe you’re Captain Mattson’s son and maybe you’re not. He’s never mentioned a son, which seems mighty strange, if you ask me. The captain is not in camp to vouch for you. He’s at Brandenburg with Tenth Kentucky, securing boats for our crossing of the Ohio. It’d be best for both us if I follow regulations. Hand over that revolver. We’ll put you in manacles. You can ride in a commissary wagon until we reach Brandenburg.”
    Ty had no desire to part with Reb and his Remington and be imprisoned until tomorrow morning or longer in a bone-hammering army wagon traveling rough-rutted roads. Yet, he was bound there unless a superior officer intervened.
    Grandfather Mattson’s favorite dictum—“Don’t swim the stream when there’s a bridge handy”—seemed the best course to pursue. Ty knew of only one senior officer who could rescind Lieutenant Shannon’s orders.
    â€œGeneral Morgan will vouch for me,” Ty said.
    Perplexed, Lieutenant Shannon’s fingers stopped short of Ty’s revolver. “He will, will he? Have you ever met the general in person? Has he even so much as laid an eye on you?”
    â€œNo, sir. General Morgan has been a friend of my father’s since the Mexican War,” Ty answered. “I’m certain my father mentioned me to him.”
    Lieutenant Shannon’s sun-scorched face leaned within an inch of Ty’s nose. Silent seconds