Byron Dunn - Raiding with Morgan

Just then they were aroused by the sound of horses’ feet, and looking up they saw Sergeant Latham accompanied by two soldiers coming on a gallop. Riding up, the Sergeant saluted, and casting his sharp eyes around, said, “Lieutenant, excuse me, but you were so long in joining us that I feared something – an accident – had befallen you, so I came back to see. Where in the world is your horse, Lieutenant?”

“Coming,” answered his superior, briskly, for he had no notion of explaining just then what had happened.

When the colored boy came leading an entirely strange horse with citizen saddle and bridle on, the Sergeant exchanged meaning glances with his companions, but said nothing.

Mounting, Lieutenant Haines bade the family good day, and rode moodily away. No sooner were they out of hearing than the Sergeant, forgetting military discipline, exclaimed, “What in blazes is up, Lieutenant? I suspected something was wrong all the time.”

“That is what made you come back, is it?” asked the Lieutenant.

“Yes; I did not march the command far before I halted and waited for you. Pretty soon we heard the sound of a galloping horse, and thought you were coming. But when you didn’t appear, I became alarmed and concluded to ride back and see what was the matter.”

“Thank you, Sergeant, for your watchfulness. I shall remember it.”

Then as they rode along, the Lieutenant told Latham his story.

“And that pesky Reb was concealed in the house all the time, was he?” asked Latham.

“Yes; the girl worked it fine.”

The Sergeant laughed long and loud. “And she coaxed the letters from you too. Oh, my! Oh, my!” And he nearly bent double.

“Shut up, you fool you!” growled Haines. “Say, you must help me out of this scrape.”

“Trust me, Lieutenant; I will tell how brave you were, and how you run the Rebel down, and how you would have captured him if he hadn’t shot your horse. But look out after this how you let Southern girls fool you.”

The Lieutenant sighed. “She is the most beautiful creature I ever saw,” he murmured. “Gods! I shall never forget how she looked when she sprang in between me and that Pennington when he had his revolver levelled at my head.”

“Forget her,” was the sage advice of the Sergeant; but the Lieutenant did not take it.

It did not take Calhoun long after he had plunged into the wood to ascertain that he was not pursued; so he slackened his headlong pace, then stopped that he might catch his breath.

“Whew!” he panted, “here is a go. Horse gone – arms, except this small revolver, gone – baggage gone – letters gone. Thank God the dispatches are safe,” and he tapped his breast, where they lay hidden. “That is about as tight a place as I care to be in,” he continued, as he began to work his way through the woods. “I call this blamed tough luck. Here I am nearly three hundred miles from my destination. A horse I must and will have, and that quickly. Surely the planters in this section are too loyal to the South not to let me have a horse when they know the predicament I am in. I will try my luck at the very first opportunity. If worse come to worst, I will steal one; that is, I will confiscate one.”

With this resolve he pushed rapidly on, and after going a half mile or more, he came out of the woods, and beyond lay a fine plantation. “I wonder if those pesky Yankees will trouble me if I try to make that house,” he thought. “I will risk it anyway, for if I can reach it, it means a horse.”

Making his way cautiously he soon reached the road in safety. He listened intently, but could hear nothing of the enemy; but from the opposite direction there came the measured beat of a horse’s hoofs. Looking up he saw, not a Yankee, but a lady approaching, at a swift gallop. Calhoun’s heart gave a great bound, for he knew that no Southern woman would betray him, and he stepped out from his place of concealment and stood in plain view by the side of the road.

When the rider saw him she gave a start of surprise, and then reined in her horse with such ease and grace as to charm him. He saw at a glance she was young and exceedingly beautiful.

“Pardon me,” he exclaimed, reaching for his hat, and then he remembered he had none, having lost it when his horse fell. “Excuse my appearance,” he laughed. “I find I have no hat to take off. Probably some Yankee has it as a trophy by this time. I am a Confederate officer in distress, and as a daughter of the South, I know I can appeal to you, and not in vain.”

“You can,” she replied, quickly. “I thought I heard firing and I rode down to see what it meant, as I knew of no party of Confederates in the vicinity.”

“A company of Federal cavalry were firing at me,” answered Calhoun. “My horse fell, and I had to run, or be captured.”

“Were you all alone?” she queried.

“Yes, all alone.”

“Then I forgive you for running,” she answered, with a ringing laugh, “otherwise I should not. But how came you here, and all alone?”

In a few words Calhoun told her who he was and his business.

“Come with me,” she cried, quickly. “Let us gain the house before the Yankees come, as no doubt they will. Father will let you have a horse. If no other be forthcoming, I will give you my Firefly here, although it would almost break my heart to part with him,” and she lovingly patted the neck of her gallant steed.

“I sincerely hope such a sacrifice will never be called for,” replied Calhoun.

“No sacrifice is too great to aid our beloved cause,” she answered; “but come, we are losing time, the Yankees may be here any moment.”

If Lieutenant Haines had not stopped to read the captured letters, Calhoun and his fair guide would not have reached the house undiscovered. As it was, they had hardly entered it when the Federals hove in sight.

“There is that Yankee officer riding my horse!” exclaimed Calhoun. “How I should like to meet him alone.”

“They are going to stop,” gasped the girl. “They may search the house, but they will not if I can outwit them. Mother,” she said, to an elderly lady who had just entered and was gazing at Calhoun in surprise, “take this officer upstairs and conceal him. There is now no time for explanations. The Yankees are in the yard.”

The mother, without a word, motioned Calhoun to follow her, and led him upstairs. Hardly had they disappeared when her father entered.

“There is that Lieutenant Haines and his company visiting us again,” he said, with some anxiety. “I wonder what they want.”

“Father,” said the girl, “go and meet Lieutenant Haines, use him nicely. Invite him to dinner.”

Mr. Osborne looked at his daughter in surprise. “I never expected to see the time you would want me to invite a Yankee officer to dinner,” he said.

“Never mind now, I will explain afterwards. Go quick, for I see he is throwing a guard around the house,” was her answer.

Mr. Osborne went, wondering what had come over his daughter, and was entirely successful in carrying out her scheme, although it was unknown to him. Before his return, Mrs. Osborne came downstairs, her face denoting her anxiety.

“Mother,” said the girl, “do not let father know we have any one concealed. It will enable him to say truly he knows of no Confederate around. And, mother, I have told him to invite the Federal commander – it’s that odious Lieutenant Haines – to dinner. Be nice to him. Use him like a welcome, honored guest. We must disarm all suspicion, and keep them from searching the house, if possible.”

We have seen how well her plan worked, and how completely Lieutenant Haines was thrown off his guard. Little did he think that while he was enjoying his dinner downstairs, the Confederate officer who had escaped him was feasting like a king upstairs.