Raoul pushed his way to the front of the crowd. The men fell back, making way for his blue jacket with its officer's gold stripes. But the sun beat down on his head. He realized that he had forgotten to put on his hat, and he wasn't shaved and his jacket was unbuttoned.
And, nothing. Hell, he could handle men. He didn't have to dress up for that. He drew his knife and faced the man on the barrel.
"Get down off there."
"Now listen, Colonel, this is a public meeting."
Raoul waved the knife. "You've had your say. Jump."
The man stared defiantly at Raoul. Raoul thought he might have to cut him up a little, and wondered if he was up to it. The man's eyes wavered from Raoul's down to the thirteen-inch blade. And he jumped.
But he wasn't quite done talking. "It's a free country, Colonel. Man's got a right to speak his mind."
Raoul said, "Tell that to Black Hawk."
He wasn't quite sure what he meant by that, but he heard several chuckles and was encouraged.
He scrambled up on the three-foot-high barrel. It rocked under him, and the dregs of whiskey sloshing around in his body made him feel dizzy. He decided, after he got his feet set near the rim of the barrel, that he would be safer if he sheathed his knife.