Forty Loads by Brett Cogburn

Author:Brett Cogburn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2014-08-13T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 28

It was a leisurely departure for an army with so far to go, but a little after high noon General Sibley came out of the hotel and stood in his buggy and gave a little speech to his troops and those civilians gathered around to see him off. It might have been a fine speech, but the wind had picked up again, drowning out his words, and the nervous roan filly hitched to his buggy spooked from something in the crowd and threw a run away before the general even got good and started. His arms windmilled wildly until he fell backward in his seat, and he scrambled to gather his reins and to check the filly’s speed. An empty whiskey bottle bounced out of the buggy as it sped away.

The crowd waved at him and gave a ragged cheer, apparently thinking that the general’s departure at a high gallop had been done on purpose for effect. Everyone in town knew that the general could be a little dramatic, especially when there was the smell of whiskey on his breath, or maybe they were simply more than ready to get the parade over with so they could get out of the wind.

Fifth Regiment’s band took the general’s fast departure as their cue and marched down the road after him, beating drums and blowing the dust out of their instruments. The rest of the soldiers mounted their horses or put their shoes and boots to the road and followed along, most trying to put to use the close order drills that they had been practicing for weeks to show off for the town folks. A few men waved at wives or sweethearts, and some even bragged that they would be home in a couple of months with the flag from the governor’s palace at Santa Fe. Few there doubted that the Army of New Mexico, as it had been dubbed by General Sibley, would be back to celebrate a victory by the following spring. Texans were widely known to be the toughest men on the face of the Earth, at least in the opinion of other Texans, and all could agree that a few Yankees and piss-poor Mexican rabble didn’t stand a chance against such fine sons of the Lone Star State. All the hoopla excited the pack of town dogs and they darted in and out of the band barking and howling.

Captain Lacey’s lancers popped their pistols into the air, and kept their wild-eyed horses in check and two by two down the middle of the street. They were indeed an impressive lot with their brightly colored lance pennants, red sashes, and a standard bearer riding at the head of their line toting a flag the ladies of San Antonio had sewn for them.

Faro studied the troops in their mismatched uniforms and outsized smiles, and thought them all proud fools. But he couldn’t blame them. Going off to war was a lot more fun than war itself.

Regardless of his

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