My ranch outfit, with the exception
of two men and ten horses, was pressed into trail work as a matter of
economy, for I was determined to make some money for my partners. Both
herds were to meet and cross at Red River Station. The season was
favorable, and everything augured for a prosperous summer. At the
very last moment a cloud arose between Mr. Hunter and me, but happily
passed without a storm. The night before the second herd started, he
and I sat up until a late hour, arranging our affairs, as it was not
his intention to accompany the herds overland. After all business
matters were settled, lounging around a camp-fire, we grew
reminiscent, when the fact developed that my quiet little partner had
served in the Union army, and with the rank of major. I always enjoy a
joke, even on myself, but I flashed hot and cold on this confession.
What! Reed Anthony forming a partnership with a Yankee major? It
seemed as though I had. Fortunately I controlled myself, and under the
excuse of starting the herd at daybreak, I excused myself and sought
my blankets. But not to sleep. On the one hand, in the stillness
of the night and across the years, came the accusing voices of old
comrades. My very wounds seemed to reopen and curse me. Did my
sufferings after Pittsburg Landing mean nothing? A vision of my dear
old mother in Virginia, welcoming me, the only one of her three sons
who returned from the war, arraigned me sorely.
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