him.”
Rogers eyed the pistol. “You reload pretty well, I’ll give you that. So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll stay with you. I’ll handle any Red Sticks who make it past your deadly gunfire.”
“That probably means most of them,” John admitted.
“Probably,” Rogers agreed amiably. “But ‘most’ is still better than ‘all.’”
They encountered two more Red Sticks before they finally found The Ridge. Ross fired twice, missing both times. Rogers did all the killing, although Ross had one of the men grappled by the legs before James brained him.
“You’ll make a good diplomat, people say,” Rogers commented idly, as they moved through the trees.
John hoped he was right. He’d certainly never be famous as a warrior.
CHAPTER 5
Sam ran pretty well for a man of his size, but he couldn’t match Montgomery.
The major was a big man himself, as tall as Sam if not as heavily built, but he just seemed to bound through the hail of arrows and bullets now being fired at the oncoming Thirty-ninth by the Red Sticks forted up behind their barricade.
Sam took his lead and example from Montgomery, not knowingwhat else to do. There was something bizarre about the whole experience. It just didn’t seem reasonable for a man to race through deadly missiles with less thought and concern than he’d give so many raindrops in a shower.
It wasn’t that Sam was scared, really, although by all rights he should have been frightened out of his wits. This was easily the most dangerous thing he’d ever done in his life, and he wasn’t a cautious man.
He’d been even less cautious as a teenager. Plenty of his Tennessee townsmen in Maryville had thought the sixteen-year-old boy had been a lunatic to run away from home and travel through sixty miles of wilderness to live with savage Indians for three years. But it had seemed a reasonable proposition to Sam, at the time, compared to working on his mother’s farm or as a clerk in his brother’s general store. Still did, for that matter. Clerking wasn’t what it was cracked up to be, and farming was worse yet.
So, he’d enlisted and given his oath, even pressed for a commission as an officer. The government having carried out its part of the bargain, Sam was now obliged to make good on his end of the deal. And if that involved charging a log wall armed with nothing more than a sword and a pistol, well, so be it. The Red Sticks pelting him with arrows and bullets were just…
Irrelevant, he decided. Sam, who’d memorized two-thirds of the poem, conjured up something from Alexander Pope’s marvelous translation of the
Iliad
to steady himself.
But know, whatever fate I am to try
By no dishonest wound shall Hector die;
I shall not fall a fugitive at least
,
My soul shall bravely issue from my breast
.
When Montgomery reached the wall he was ten feet ahead of Sam. The major clambered up the log fortifications using only his left hand, still waving his saber in the right.
He shouted something. Sam thought it was
Follow me!
but he wasn’t sure. Between the gunfire and the screams of the Red Sticks on the other side of the barricade, he couldn’t hear himself think.
Not that there was any thinking to be done, really. It allseemed very simple. Climb the wall, get on the other side, do your best to beat down your enemies before they did the same to you.
Montgomery reached the top of the wall and dropped into a crouch, ready to leap across.
Then he shouted again. It was a wordless cry, this time, nothing more than a dying reflex as lungs emptied for the last time. Sam was sure of that. He could see the blood and brains erupting from a bullet that passed right through Montgomery’s head.
The major fell back to the ground, his body passing Sam as he clambered up the wall.
“
Follow me!”
Sam shouted. Pretty damn good and loud, too, he thought. But he didn’t try to wave the sword he carried in his hand. He’d save that for when he reached the top.
Finally he
Rogers eyed the pistol. “You reload pretty well, I’ll give you that. So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll stay with you. I’ll handle any Red Sticks who make it past your deadly gunfire.”
“That probably means most of them,” John admitted.
“Probably,” Rogers agreed amiably. “But ‘most’ is still better than ‘all.’”
They encountered two more Red Sticks before they finally found The Ridge. Ross fired twice, missing both times. Rogers did all the killing, although Ross had one of the men grappled by the legs before James brained him.
“You’ll make a good diplomat, people say,” Rogers commented idly, as they moved through the trees.
John hoped he was right. He’d certainly never be famous as a warrior.
CHAPTER 5
Sam ran pretty well for a man of his size, but he couldn’t match Montgomery.
The major was a big man himself, as tall as Sam if not as heavily built, but he just seemed to bound through the hail of arrows and bullets now being fired at the oncoming Thirty-ninth by the Red Sticks forted up behind their barricade.
Sam took his lead and example from Montgomery, not knowingwhat else to do. There was something bizarre about the whole experience. It just didn’t seem reasonable for a man to race through deadly missiles with less thought and concern than he’d give so many raindrops in a shower.
It wasn’t that Sam was scared, really, although by all rights he should have been frightened out of his wits. This was easily the most dangerous thing he’d ever done in his life, and he wasn’t a cautious man.
He’d been even less cautious as a teenager. Plenty of his Tennessee townsmen in Maryville had thought the sixteen-year-old boy had been a lunatic to run away from home and travel through sixty miles of wilderness to live with savage Indians for three years. But it had seemed a reasonable proposition to Sam, at the time, compared to working on his mother’s farm or as a clerk in his brother’s general store. Still did, for that matter. Clerking wasn’t what it was cracked up to be, and farming was worse yet.
So, he’d enlisted and given his oath, even pressed for a commission as an officer. The government having carried out its part of the bargain, Sam was now obliged to make good on his end of the deal. And if that involved charging a log wall armed with nothing more than a sword and a pistol, well, so be it. The Red Sticks pelting him with arrows and bullets were just…
Irrelevant, he decided. Sam, who’d memorized two-thirds of the poem, conjured up something from Alexander Pope’s marvelous translation of the
Iliad
to steady himself.
But know, whatever fate I am to try
By no dishonest wound shall Hector die;
I shall not fall a fugitive at least
,
My soul shall bravely issue from my breast
.
When Montgomery reached the wall he was ten feet ahead of Sam. The major clambered up the log fortifications using only his left hand, still waving his saber in the right.
He shouted something. Sam thought it was
Follow me!
but he wasn’t sure. Between the gunfire and the screams of the Red Sticks on the other side of the barricade, he couldn’t hear himself think.
Not that there was any thinking to be done, really. It allseemed very simple. Climb the wall, get on the other side, do your best to beat down your enemies before they did the same to you.
Montgomery reached the top of the wall and dropped into a crouch, ready to leap across.
Then he shouted again. It was a wordless cry, this time, nothing more than a dying reflex as lungs emptied for the last time. Sam was sure of that. He could see the blood and brains erupting from a bullet that passed right through Montgomery’s head.
The major fell back to the ground, his body passing Sam as he clambered up the wall.
“
Follow me!”
Sam shouted. Pretty damn good and loud, too, he thought. But he didn’t try to wave the sword he carried in his hand. He’d save that for when he reached the top.
Finally he
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