Read Online A Dangerous Promise by Joan Lowery Nixon - Free Book Online
Authors: Joan Lowery Nixon
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gettin' closer and closer to August fourteenth."
"As I said before," Harley reminded him, "don't count on gettin' out by then. If Lyon loses most of his volunteers, he'll have to retreat practically out of the state and lose Missouri. Do you think he'll give up so easy?"
"I don't," Mike answered loyally, and went off to find Todd.
On August 8, a supply train arrived, providing many of the men with new clothes and shoes. Mike strode up and down in new, well-fitted boots, thankful he could throw away his old pair of shoes, which had large holes in the soles and one missing heel. Without the new boots, he'd probably have been marching south to meet the enemy in bare feet.
He chuckled to himself at the number of volunteers who complained about being issued "crooked shoes."
"Never had shoes like these afore this," Ben gnmibled.
"One made for the right foot and one for the left. TheyYe not as comfortable as the straight shoes I've always worn."
Mike had seen plenty of "straight shoes," shoes made with rounded toes to fit either foot. "Just be glad to have shoes," he said.
Mike knew they'd be either heading into battle or retreating from Missouri soon. Everyone had been expecting marching orders for days. On August 9, the orders came.
Soon after a dispatch from General Fremont, in which he stated his decision not to send reinforcements, one of Lyon's spies reported McCuUoch's decision to attack the Federals on the following day.
Upon hearing this startling news, Lyon called for a council of war. Most of his officers agreed that retreating from Springfield would be a disaster. As Harley explained to the cluster of men around him, "The brigade would lose artillery and other equipment—and ultimately, the state of Missouri to the Confederacy."
"Surprise is our only hope," Lyon said. Captain Dawes informed his men of Lyon's decision to attack that very night.
Officers hurried to ready their troops to leave. Mike, his heart pounding, began to pack.
Sergeant Gridley looked at Mike's stuffed bedroll. "Leave it behind," he told Mike. "We have to travel as light as possible."
As Todd prepared to join Colonel Mitchell's unit, Mike gripped his hand. "Good luck," he said.
Todd's eyes were dark with fear. "Remember your promise," he said.
My promise? Oh, yes — the watch! "Of course I remember, but don't worry," Mike answered. "Just wish me good luck in return."
"Good luck, Mike," Todd murmured. He grabbed his bugle and ran to join the colonel.
He wouldn't be here except for my urging, Mike thought,
watching Todd go. But there was no time to think about it. The army was ready to move.
At six in the evening, with only two companies of home guards left to secure Springfield, the columns moved out. General Lyon's command, marching on the west flank along the Mt. Vernon Road, would cross Grand Prairie and attack the southerners' left flank. General Sigel took his troops to fight against the Confederates' rear and right.
The march began briskly, with some of the men singing loudly along with the drumbeat, Mike among them. The Kansas volunteers outsang them all as they bellowed "Happy Land of Canaan."
Close to midnight, Lyon ordered an end to the singing and drumming, as the noise might alert the enemy.
A little after one in the morning, Lyon's advance scouts discovered the Missouri State Guard's campfires and called a halt. The men rested, but only a few of them could sleep on the hard bare ground. Mike, his drum close to his side, found Todd by the moonlight's gleam on his bugle and squatted down next to him under a scrub oak. "It won't be long now," Mike said. "Those Rebs won't stand a chance."
"What time do you think we'll move in?" Todd asked.
"Probably not until light. It's too dark right now to know friend from foe."
Harley stumbled over a tree root, plopping down beside Mike and Todd. "If that don't beat all," he said. "I heard from Sergeant Gridley that yesterday two Rebel women spies, bold as brass but wrong as
"As I said before," Harley reminded him, "don't count on gettin' out by then. If Lyon loses most of his volunteers, he'll have to retreat practically out of the state and lose Missouri. Do you think he'll give up so easy?"
"I don't," Mike answered loyally, and went off to find Todd.
On August 8, a supply train arrived, providing many of the men with new clothes and shoes. Mike strode up and down in new, well-fitted boots, thankful he could throw away his old pair of shoes, which had large holes in the soles and one missing heel. Without the new boots, he'd probably have been marching south to meet the enemy in bare feet.
He chuckled to himself at the number of volunteers who complained about being issued "crooked shoes."
"Never had shoes like these afore this," Ben gnmibled.
"One made for the right foot and one for the left. TheyYe not as comfortable as the straight shoes I've always worn."
Mike had seen plenty of "straight shoes," shoes made with rounded toes to fit either foot. "Just be glad to have shoes," he said.
Mike knew they'd be either heading into battle or retreating from Missouri soon. Everyone had been expecting marching orders for days. On August 9, the orders came.
Soon after a dispatch from General Fremont, in which he stated his decision not to send reinforcements, one of Lyon's spies reported McCuUoch's decision to attack the Federals on the following day.
Upon hearing this startling news, Lyon called for a council of war. Most of his officers agreed that retreating from Springfield would be a disaster. As Harley explained to the cluster of men around him, "The brigade would lose artillery and other equipment—and ultimately, the state of Missouri to the Confederacy."
"Surprise is our only hope," Lyon said. Captain Dawes informed his men of Lyon's decision to attack that very night.
Officers hurried to ready their troops to leave. Mike, his heart pounding, began to pack.
Sergeant Gridley looked at Mike's stuffed bedroll. "Leave it behind," he told Mike. "We have to travel as light as possible."
As Todd prepared to join Colonel Mitchell's unit, Mike gripped his hand. "Good luck," he said.
Todd's eyes were dark with fear. "Remember your promise," he said.
My promise? Oh, yes — the watch! "Of course I remember, but don't worry," Mike answered. "Just wish me good luck in return."
"Good luck, Mike," Todd murmured. He grabbed his bugle and ran to join the colonel.
He wouldn't be here except for my urging, Mike thought,
watching Todd go. But there was no time to think about it. The army was ready to move.
At six in the evening, with only two companies of home guards left to secure Springfield, the columns moved out. General Lyon's command, marching on the west flank along the Mt. Vernon Road, would cross Grand Prairie and attack the southerners' left flank. General Sigel took his troops to fight against the Confederates' rear and right.
The march began briskly, with some of the men singing loudly along with the drumbeat, Mike among them. The Kansas volunteers outsang them all as they bellowed "Happy Land of Canaan."
Close to midnight, Lyon ordered an end to the singing and drumming, as the noise might alert the enemy.
A little after one in the morning, Lyon's advance scouts discovered the Missouri State Guard's campfires and called a halt. The men rested, but only a few of them could sleep on the hard bare ground. Mike, his drum close to his side, found Todd by the moonlight's gleam on his bugle and squatted down next to him under a scrub oak. "It won't be long now," Mike said. "Those Rebs won't stand a chance."
"What time do you think we'll move in?" Todd asked.
"Probably not until light. It's too dark right now to know friend from foe."
Harley stumbled over a tree root, plopping down beside Mike and Todd. "If that don't beat all," he said. "I heard from Sergeant Gridley that yesterday two Rebel women spies, bold as brass but wrong as
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