Now the older man’s voice came sharp. “Don’t talk to the prisoners that way, Kane. These men are Union officers, prisoners of war. Give the books to me.”
The big man was sullen. “As soon as I tie the prisoners’ hands. We can carry the monkeys across our saddles.”
The white-haired man smiled, then his face grew stern. He spoke to the captives. “If we leave you unbound so you can ride behind, will you give me your word you’ll behave?”
Tim smiled. “This wouldn’t be the best time to make a break. You have our word.”
The giant’s eyes glistened like polished flint under his shaggy brows, reflecting his hate of Yankees in general and resentment of the older man.
He grumbled as the prisoners mounted freely, and was silent and brooding as they slanted up the hill and jogged through the wood and across the open fields. Tim rode behind the older man.
When they had traveled half a mile or so they approached the gate of a rambling, white two-story house with lanterns hanging at either side of the big front door. A large barn stood behind the house and other outbuildings beside the barn.
The big man spoke. “I’ll lock the Yankees in my shed and station a guard around.”
“These men are in sorry shape. They need some food and rest and a chance to dry their clothes. I’ll put them up here.” MacNeil nodded to Red. “You are free to dismount. Kane, set the bundles by the gate and find two men to act as guards and two to relieve them at suppertime and shift with them through the night. Let them stand at opposite sides of the house for now.”
“If you’ll pardon me, sir, I think you’re making a great mistake. Surely you don’t want to keep them here.”