"Maybe, ma'am. And where may I find the inn?"
"Straight ahead," the girl answered. "You really are Morgan's men?"
Kirby did not have a hat to doff, but his bow in the saddle was as graceful as Drew's.
"That's right, ma'am. My, did we know what we'd find in Bardstown now, we'd bin ridin' in right sooner!"
"Suh! ... Louisa!" The elder lady's intimidating glare was divided, but Drew thought that Louisa got more than a half share of it.
"No offense meant, ma'am. It's jus' that ridin' 'bout the way we do an' all, we don't git us a chance to say Howdy to ladies." The Texan's expression was properly contrite; his voice all diffidence.
"The inn, young men, is on down the street. Drive on, Horace!" she ordered the coachman. But as the carriage started, she pointed her parasol at Drew as a teacher might point an admonishing ruler at a pupil. "I hope you'll find what you're looking for, young man. In the way of Yankees...."
"We generally do, ma'am," Kirby commented. "For us Yankees jus' turn up bright an' sassy all over the place."
Drew laughed. "Bright and sassy, then on the run!" For the success of his present mission and all those listening ears he ended that boast in as fervent a tone as he could summon.
"See that you keep them that way!" She enforced that order with a snap of parasol being reopened as the carriage moved from the shade back into the patch of open sunlight.