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the house before leading the anxious Rhett to the other.
    The two Rebel soldiers, sweating from the strain, reached the house and flattened themselves against the wall on each side of the front door. They paused a moment, then one of them lifted his foot and launched a back-heeled kick at the door. It crashed open. They leapt into the opening, bringing up their rifles. Their sighs of relief echoed in the empty room.
    Then fear clawed cold fingers around their throats again as the engineer began to moan through his gag and kick his feet against the sides of the closet. The men rushed across the room and adopted the same tactics as they employed at the front door.
    “Jesus, will you look at that!” the taller of the two exclaimed as he saw the frantically struggling form of the engineer.
    “They must have been here,” the other shot back. “Them’s railroad man’s threads. Get him down while I call the lieutenant.”
    The engineer began to struggle with greater vigor and the veins stood out in his face and neck as he tried to warn his rescuers of dangers. But the tall cavalrymen chose to set him free of the hooks before taking off the gag. And the second man hurried out to the front door.
    “They been, but they’ve gone, lieutenant!” he yelled. “Left the engineer here, though.”
    The rest of the patrol heeled their horses forward, still bunched together, heading for the house. Hedges waited until the enemy soldiers were lost to sight around the angle of the house and, after beckoning to Bell, led Rhett along the wall. At the front corner he held back, listening to the sounds of the men dismounting and going inside. Then, after a glance around the angle, he motioned for Rhett to hold the horses. He signaled to Bell at the other corner and both men crept towards the open front door, Bell having to duck below the level of the window sill. They paused, Hedges nodded: they stepped into the opening and across the threshold, rifles cocked and leveled.
    “They’re here!” the engineer screamed from the kitchen.
    “Ain’t that the truth,” Hedges said evenly into the shocked silence which followed the shout.
    The eleven men trying to crowd into the kitchen doorway whirled around, jostling each other to draw a bead on the two Union men. Hedges raised the Spencer and squeezed the trigger. The roar of the shot had a freezing effect on the Rebels. The man who’s head was showered with wood splinters and plaster from the ceiling did not even blink.
    “There’s only two of ‘em, sir,” an old sweat growled.
    Hedges shook his head, his lips curling back to show his teeth in an evil grin. “Wrong,” he chided. “Count them.”
    The frightened eyes of the Rebels swiveled to the bedroom door as it creaked open and Forrest came into view, followed by Seward, Douglas and Scott, each with a rifle cocked and aimed. And each with a brittle grin veneering his emaciated features. The six Union men formed a half circle around the cluster of Rebels.
    With the exception of the old sweat, the patrol was composed of fresh-faced youngsters hardly out of their teens. The officer seemed to be among the youngest.
    “The report I received specified seven escapers,” the lieutenant said, having to force his voice to maintain a level tone.
    “Rhett’s our ace in the hole,” Hedges answered.
    “Asshole, more like,” Seward muttered.
    “We still got ‘em almost two to one,” the veteran complained.
    “Guy’s got a big mouth,” Forrest growled.
    “Don’t match his build, though,” Hedges pointed out. “He don’t size up to any of us.”
    Forrest shot a glance at the Captain and licked his lips. “You mean I can...?”
    “Might convince these guys to toss their guns into the corner,” Hedges allowed, nodding towards the area he had in mind.
    “You got anything else to say, big mouth?” Forrest demanded, glaring at the leather-like features of the oldest Rebel.
    “Go to hell!” the man retorted.
    “After you,”