"Lou there, Lieutenant, the tall skinny one, is a fine farrier and Alex, the pleasantly plump one has the makings of a bugler." J. N. paused and changed to a more serious tone, "Sir, I reckon I've had enough of hanging in trees and lurking behind cover and taking easy shots at Yankee officers and gunners. Sorta felt like I wanted the rascals to see who's sending them to hell for their presumption, Sir." He paused and shrugged, "Lots of Yankees were between me and Bragg's army so we came to find you all." Taking a short breath, "Mighty fine work you all did, Sir, up at Anderson Crossing, fiery trail from the valley to the plateau," J. N. smiled. It seemed he was a salesman or preacher in the making, a witty and smooth talker.

The young 2nd Lieutenant pondered the three and their story. He thought, "Sharpshooter, farrier and bugler - Lord knows we could use some fresh troops and these say they got more of what we need than lots of these dunderheads around here. Hope that sharpshooter won't be any trouble. He's awful uppity," he ruminated.

\ The 2nd Lieutenant, graduate of Jefferson College in Natchez and heir to a six thousand-acre delta plantation east of Greenville, told the three newcomers where to put their stock, make a camp and find a mess to get some food. He told them to find a place to sleep near his squad of troopers and that he wanted to see them in the morning first thing after they got some vittles.

===

"Sir, I've got some boys who need tending to. One says he's been with the 24th Tennessee Sharpshooters and the others want to join up," reported 2nd Lieutenant James Tyler Muskgrove late of Green Laurel Plantation, after that Jefferson College, and now in charge of a cavalry troop.

Major Stevenson as the chief of staff to General Joseph Wheeler was taking his morning coffee around a campfire outside his tent. "Well, hell Muskgrove, assign 'em to one of your units - you got plenty of vacancies. Give them that needs it, the oath, and get your "Top" to sort them out," the still sleepy major said impatiently.

"Well, yessir, but . . . but, it's this - one says he's a farrier, another claims to be a bugler and the older one, as I said, says he is a sharpshooter from the 24th," Muskgrove apologetically recited.

Major Amos Solon Stevenson, late of Carmargo, Lincoln County, Tennessee, had spent a dozen years as an enlisted trooper in the 4th US Cavalry, six months as a walking soldier and now over a year as an officer with the cavalry of the Army of Tennessee. He got the important details about these new men from his nervous but efficient subordinate.




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