“I figger they’re ’bout out of cartridges, George,” the stocky civilian declared. “And it’s gonna take some before these soldiers are saddled up to ride out.” Shearer studied the look on his friend’s face a moment before saying, “Maybeso we ought’n give it a try on our own?” “I was hoping you was thinking same as me,” Guiterman admitted. “I stuffed ever’ bullet I could in our saddlebags.“ Shearer grinned at the man as he grabbed his reins and stuffed a boot into the stirrup. “Sure you was a Yankee during the war, Paul?” “I was Union down to my soles, you ol’ Reb.” Guiterman swung up. “But I can still give one hell of a Rebel yell.” As Shearer jabbed his heels into the horse’s ribs, he said, “Better unlimber your tongue—’cause them Injuns just opened up a nice li’l road for us to sashay right on through!” LEW Wilmot wasn’t sure if his eyes or his ears were deceiving him. But—gloree! It looked as if two riders were sprinting their horses right through a narrow gap the warriors had left open between the soldiers’ camp at Cottonwood and the knoll where D.
