Under the Stars and Bars Read Online Free PDF Page B

felt a further sense of relief. Maybe the man, or men, about the fire would be city-dwellers, but their horses would be on the alert. So he knew that having his scent blown away from them would lessen the chances of their detecting his presence and giving a warning.
    At last he came into sight of the clearing. Inching forward with even greater care, he halted behind the thick trunk of a burly white ash tree. From the concealment of the five foot wide trunk, he studied the clearing by the ford—and found himself faced with a problem. Although there were two horses hobbled and grazing on the edge of the river’s bank, he could see only one man in the open space before him.
    Was the man alone, riding a relay, or did he have a companion who had gone off into the bushes for some reason?
    Calmly Dusty examined the mystery and drew his conclusions. The two horses were fine animals, a dun and a chestnut, both geldings. They had a powerful, yet not clumsy muscular development that hinted at brio escondido , hidden vigour, or stamina and guts well above average. Each had a set of hobbles attached to its forelegs above the pastern joints. U.S. cavalry hobbles, from the look of them, made of two buckle-on leather cuffs connected by a short swivel-link chain.
    A pair of officer’s pattern McClellan saddles lay on their sides by the fire. Across the seat of one hung a fringed buckskin shirt on which rested a pair of ivory-handled, octagonal-barrelled Colt 1851 Navy revolvers. A tight-rolled multi-hued silk bandana, a black sash of the same material and a low-crowned, wide brimmed grey Stetson hat were draped on the saddle’s hornless pommel. Leaning against the seat of the second saddle was a Henry rifle in a fancy-decorated, fringed Indian medicine boot. Dusty could see only one bed-roll alongside the fire.
    ‘Not but the one cup there, too,’ the small Texan mused, staring longingly at the small coffee-pot which steamed and bubbled merrily near the flames. ‘That hombre’s sure acting obliging.’
    Naked to the waist, showing a heavy-shouldered, lean-waisted, muscular back, the man in question would be one or two inches over the six foot mark. While he wore U.S. cavalry breeches, his lower legs were encased in knee-high Indian moccasins. The hilt of a long-bladed fighting knife showed above the top of the right moccasin and he kept up his breeches with a fancy-patterned Indian belt. Shoulder-long tawny hair added to Dusty’s suspicions that the man was a civilian scout rather than a serving member of the Union Army.
    The small Texan knew that several such specialists had been brought from their duties with the Western garrisons and allocated to various Union commands in the hope of combating the South’s very effective cavalry raiders. The man was the first of them Dusty had seen in Arkansas.
    What the man’s features might be like, Dusty could not tell. Standing with his back to the young captain, the scout was shaving with the aid of a small steel mirror fixed to the trunk of a tree. Fortunately his position would prevent him seeing Dusty reflected on the shining surface.
    Even as Dusty prepared to step out from behind the white ash, he heard the dun gelding let out an explosive, warning snort. Freezing in his tracks, right hand filled with the butt of its Colt, he glanced at the animals and saw the chestnut toss its finely shaped head in alarm.
    At first Dusty thought that the horses had located him in some way. Then he realised that their attention was focused on the other side of the clearing. Turning his gaze that way, he saw something big, black-looking and vaguely menacing looming through the bushes. Then the long-haired scout drew Dusty’s eyes his way.
    Throwing a quick look at his horses, the man snapped his head around to face the cause of their agitation. Dusty formed an impression of tanned, good-looking features with a neatly trimmed moustache making an almost white slash above a half-shaven chin.
    Clearly a man