"Reb, I bought these from a fella in another outfit, 'bout two or three weeks ago. He was on sick leave and was goin' home. I gave him good hard cash for 'em."
"Did he say where he got them?" pressed Drew.
The other shook his head. "He had a pile of stuff—mostly Reb—buckles, spurs, and such. Sold it all around camp 'fore he left."
"What outfit are you?" Boyd asked.
"Trooper, any trouble here?" A Yankee major bore down on them from one side, a Confederate captain from the other.
"No, suh," Drew replied quickly. "I just recognized a pair of spurs this trooper is wearin'. They belonged to a friend of mine who's been missin' for some time. I hoped maybe the trooper knew something about him."
"Well, do you?" the major demanded of his own man.
"No, sir. Bought these in camp from a fella goin' on furlough. I don't know where he got 'em."
"Satisfied, soldier?" the officer asked Drew.
"Yes, suh." Before he could add another word the major was shepherding his men away.