"He'd better be. We need him to find Graverro. These two we don't need."
"That's where you're wrong, Colonel. This here's about th' best cover we could git us now." Shannon laughed. "Mister Drew Rennie, come outta Kentucky to find his pa—touchin' story, ain't it? Real touchin'—like somethin' outta a book. Well, does his pa find us, his sonny boy'd be real handy, now wouldn't he?"
"You have a point, Shannon. We'll take him."
"An' th' other one, Colonel, suh?"
Kitchell—if Kitchell that shadow was—came out into the moonlight. He wore the gray shell jacket of a Confederate[pg 210] cavalryman, and the light glinted on the cords of a field officer's hat.
"Who are you, boy?" He faced to the left and Drew looked in the same direction.
Anse stood there, the barrel of a Colt pushed against him just above the belt line.
"Anson Kirby."
Shannon laughed again. "'Nother big man—says he rode with General Forrest!"
"That true, Kirby, you were one of General Forrest's command?"