Read Online The Last Confederate by Gilbert Morris - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gilbert Morris
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bullet!”
“That’s the way, Beau!” several of the young men shouted, and a hum of approval drowned out Will’s protest.
The outer door opened, and Beau looked up to see someone come in carrying a huge red oak log for the fire. He supposed at first it was one of the slaves, but now he noticed it was the young man Mark had pointed out earlier. Beau’s eyes narrowed as he watched the boy stagger to the fireplace anddump the log on the coals, sending the sparks flying wildly. Beau suddenly grinned and intercepted the boy as he started for the door.
“You the Yankee who came in on the Dixie Queen? ” he asked, placing himself between the boy and the door. He glanced at his friends, winked broadly at Mark, then demanded, “Well, are you the Yankee or not?”
Thad stood there, confused and a little frightened. He had been asked by Mr. Winslow to keep close to the house during the party in case he was needed. He had listened to the music, and peered in through the windows for a time, then had settled down in the kitchen, talking to Lewis, the butler. He had eaten quite a bit of the rich food, and the warmth of the kitchen lulled him into a torpid sleep. He had been awakened when Lewis passed along Mr. Winslow’s order for a log, and had brought it in. Now he looked around at the group of men who all seemed to be laughing at him.
Finally he saw Mr. Winslow nod, and he said, “Yes, sir. I came on the Dixie Queen. ”
“And are you a Yankee, boy?” Beau demanded.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t know! Well, where did you come from?”
“I came from New York.” Thad tried to edge away, but the large man blocked his path.
“New York? Well, that’s Yankee enough, wouldn’t you say, fellows?” The group vocally gave assent, and Beau deliberately looked Thad up and down, then turned to face his friends. “Well, there he is, gentlemen—a real live Yankee! Anyone here afraid to face up to him in battle?”
They all stared at Thad as they would have stared at an unusual animal in a cage. He was not much to look at, Thad well knew. He had begun to pick up the weight he had lost during his sickness, but his clothes still hung on him loosely and his face was thin, making his eyes look too large.
He glanced at Mr. Winslow for help, and got a nod toward the door. He tried to walk around Beau, but just as hepassed, the large man caught him by the arm and held him in a vise-like grip, saying, “Look at this fellow, Mark! Why, I’d be ashamed to fight against a bunch of men like this!” He gave Thad a shove, and caught off balance, Thad stumbled and almost fell.
“Now, Beau, that’s no way to treat a servant.” Sky Winslow moved quickly to stand in front of Beau. His voice was soft and he had to look up into the face of the younger man, but there was something in his eyes that made Beau freeze. He knew as well as any man in the room that Sky Winslow had been a mountain man in his youth, and in Oregon he had gone up against hardened gunmen—and lived to tell about it.
The crowd fell silent, caught up in the confrontation. Beau was a fiery-tempered man—but there was something deadly in the still figure of Winslow. Though he was almost sixty, there was such strength in his face and upright figure that no one thought of him as being old. He was a smiling man, known to be mild and easygoing—but there was something of a carnivore in him just now—and Beau quickly dropped his eyes.
“Sorry, Mr. Winslow. I was out of order.” He reached into his pocket, and before Thad discovered what the man was doing, Beau put a coin in his hand, saying, “I apologize, young fellow. Take this and have yourself a good time. I see you’re not a fighter, but that’s not your fault.”
“I’m afraid you’re not quite correct, Beau,” a voice said, and they all turned to look at Shelby Lee. He was the son of General Robert E. Lee’s brother and a second-year lieutenant at West Point, first in his class. He looked a great
“That’s the way, Beau!” several of the young men shouted, and a hum of approval drowned out Will’s protest.
The outer door opened, and Beau looked up to see someone come in carrying a huge red oak log for the fire. He supposed at first it was one of the slaves, but now he noticed it was the young man Mark had pointed out earlier. Beau’s eyes narrowed as he watched the boy stagger to the fireplace anddump the log on the coals, sending the sparks flying wildly. Beau suddenly grinned and intercepted the boy as he started for the door.
“You the Yankee who came in on the Dixie Queen? ” he asked, placing himself between the boy and the door. He glanced at his friends, winked broadly at Mark, then demanded, “Well, are you the Yankee or not?”
Thad stood there, confused and a little frightened. He had been asked by Mr. Winslow to keep close to the house during the party in case he was needed. He had listened to the music, and peered in through the windows for a time, then had settled down in the kitchen, talking to Lewis, the butler. He had eaten quite a bit of the rich food, and the warmth of the kitchen lulled him into a torpid sleep. He had been awakened when Lewis passed along Mr. Winslow’s order for a log, and had brought it in. Now he looked around at the group of men who all seemed to be laughing at him.
Finally he saw Mr. Winslow nod, and he said, “Yes, sir. I came on the Dixie Queen. ”
“And are you a Yankee, boy?” Beau demanded.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t know! Well, where did you come from?”
“I came from New York.” Thad tried to edge away, but the large man blocked his path.
“New York? Well, that’s Yankee enough, wouldn’t you say, fellows?” The group vocally gave assent, and Beau deliberately looked Thad up and down, then turned to face his friends. “Well, there he is, gentlemen—a real live Yankee! Anyone here afraid to face up to him in battle?”
They all stared at Thad as they would have stared at an unusual animal in a cage. He was not much to look at, Thad well knew. He had begun to pick up the weight he had lost during his sickness, but his clothes still hung on him loosely and his face was thin, making his eyes look too large.
He glanced at Mr. Winslow for help, and got a nod toward the door. He tried to walk around Beau, but just as hepassed, the large man caught him by the arm and held him in a vise-like grip, saying, “Look at this fellow, Mark! Why, I’d be ashamed to fight against a bunch of men like this!” He gave Thad a shove, and caught off balance, Thad stumbled and almost fell.
“Now, Beau, that’s no way to treat a servant.” Sky Winslow moved quickly to stand in front of Beau. His voice was soft and he had to look up into the face of the younger man, but there was something in his eyes that made Beau freeze. He knew as well as any man in the room that Sky Winslow had been a mountain man in his youth, and in Oregon he had gone up against hardened gunmen—and lived to tell about it.
The crowd fell silent, caught up in the confrontation. Beau was a fiery-tempered man—but there was something deadly in the still figure of Winslow. Though he was almost sixty, there was such strength in his face and upright figure that no one thought of him as being old. He was a smiling man, known to be mild and easygoing—but there was something of a carnivore in him just now—and Beau quickly dropped his eyes.
“Sorry, Mr. Winslow. I was out of order.” He reached into his pocket, and before Thad discovered what the man was doing, Beau put a coin in his hand, saying, “I apologize, young fellow. Take this and have yourself a good time. I see you’re not a fighter, but that’s not your fault.”
“I’m afraid you’re not quite correct, Beau,” a voice said, and they all turned to look at Shelby Lee. He was the son of General Robert E. Lee’s brother and a second-year lieutenant at West Point, first in his class. He looked a great
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