The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

shoulders, Drew was able to survey his body. A blanket was wrapped tightly about his legs, and over his chest and middle a wet wad of material steamed. When Webb laid him flat again, the two men, working together, wrung out another square of torn blanket, and substituted its damp heat for the one which had been cooling against him.
    “What’s the…matter—? Shot?”
    Croff reached to bring into the firelight a belt strap. Dangling it, he held the buckle-end in Drew’s line of vision. The plate was split, and embedded in it was an object as big as Drew’s thumb and somewhat resembling it in shape.
    “We took this off you,” the Cherokee explained. “Stopped a bullet plumb center with that.”
    “Ain’t seen nothin’ like it ’fore,” Webb added, patting the compress gently into place. “Like to ripe you wide open if it hadn’t hit the buckle! You got you a bruise black as charcoal an’ big as a plate right across your guts, but the skin’s only a little broke wheah the plate cut you some. An’ if you ain’t hurt inside, you’re ’bout the luckiest fella I ever thought to see in my lifetime!”
    Drew moved a hand, touching the buckle with a forefinger. Then he filled his lungs deeply and felt the answering pinch of pain in the region of the bruise Webb described.
    “It sure hurts! But it’s better than a hole.”
    A hole! Kirby! Drew’s hand went out to brace himself up, the compress slid down his body, and then Webb was forcing him down again.
    “What you tryin’ to do, boy? Pass out on us agin? You stay put an’ let us work on you! This heah district’s no place to linger, an’ you can’t fork a hoss ’til we git you fixed up some.”
    Drew caught at the hand which pinned his shoulder. “Will, where’s Anse? You got him here too?” He rolled his head, trying to see more of the enclosure in which he lay, but all he faced was a wall of rough stone. Webb was wringing out another compress, preparing to change the dressing.
    “Where’s Anse?” Drew demanded more loudly, and there was a faint echo of his voice from overhead.
    Croff flipped off the cooling compress as Webb applied the fresh one. But Drew was no longer lulled by that warmth.
    “He ain’t here,” replied the Cherokee.
    “Where then?” Drew was suddenly silent, no longer wanting an answer.
    “Looky heah, Drew”—Webb hung over him, peering intently into his face—“we don’t know wheah he is, an’ that’s Bible-swear truth! We saw you two come out into the valley, but we was busy pickin’ off hosses so them devils couldn’t make it away ’fore the Yankees caught up with ’em. Then the blue bellies slammed in fast an’ hard. They jus’ naturally went right over those bushwhackers. Maybe so, they captured two or three, but most of them was finished off right theah. We took cover, not wantin’ to meet up with lead jus’ because we might seem to be in bad company. When all the shootin’ was over an’ you didn’t come ’long, me and Injun did some scoutin’ ’round.
    “We found you down by that crick, an’ first—I’m tellin’ it to you straight—we thought you was dead. Then Injun, he found your heart was still beatin’, so we lugged you up heah an’ looked you over. Later, Injun, he went back for a look-see, but he ain’t found hide nor hair of Anse—”
    “He was hit bad—in the shoulder—” Drew looked pleadingly from one to the other—“when we smashed into that brush he was pushed right out of the saddle, not far from that crick where you found me. Injun, he could still be out there now…bleedin’—hurt.…”
    Croff shook his head. “I backtracked all along that way after we found you. There was some blood on the grass, but that could have come from one of the bushwhackers. There was no trace of Anse, anywhere.”
    “What if he was taken prisoner!” Neither one of them would meet his eyes now, and Drew set his teeth, clamping down on a wild rush of words he wanted to spill, knowing that both men would have been as quick and willing to search for the Texan as they had to bring Drew, himself, in. No one answered him.
    But Croff stood up and said quietly: “This is a pretty well-hidden cave. The Yankees probably believe they’ve swept out this valley. You stay holed up here, and you’re safe for a while. Then when you’re ready to ride, Sarge, we’ll head back south.”
    He stopped to pick up his carbine by its sling.
    “Where’re you going?”
    “Take a look-see for