The boy stood in the lamplight, his nightgown nearly reaching the floor. His face was tough for a boy so young. “You look better now,” he said. “You frightened me most to death outside.”
Tim smiled.
The boy said, “You’re most as good-lookin’ as people down here.” He lowered his eyes and frowned again. “Do you have any news of my father? Lieutenant Curtis is his name. A friend saw him wounded at the battle of Malvern Hill.”
Tim looked down at the boy’s unruly hair and questioning eyes. He spoke softly. “This is a mighty big war, lad. We didn’t fight at Malvern Hill.”
MacNeil spoke up. “Now off to bed, Michael. Sorry I forgot to keep my promise.”
The boy looked up, speaking man to man. “I know you’re busy with the Yankees and such.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The lamp burned low in Tim’s room. He stood still for a moment, studying the place. The door at the back must be a closet. He took off his boots and put them on the hearth and padded over to take a look. The floor boards creaked but he didn’t care. Sounds in the room would go unnoticed for a little while.
He opened the door without a sound. The closet was empty and there was a door at the back. Tim tried the knob but the door was locked. Boots sounded on the floor beyond and he heard a tapping on the other side. He answered the tapping and heard the stealthy turn of a key. The knob moved and the door opened and Red whispered, “You game for a try?”
“Let’s watch and listen for an hour or so.”