2nd Lt. Muskgrove piped, "General Wheeler, Sir! These two want to join up. The older one claims that Yankee raiders murdered these boys' father and brother up in the Sequatchie Valley. The corporal there claims he's been on sick leave and that he is a sharpshooter with the 24th Tennessee. Major Stevenson smiled when Joseph Wheeler looked at his senior staff officer.
"Solon, what's the story?" General Joseph Wheeler asked the man who was his strong right arm. The Major put his left hand over his moustache pulling it down firmly across his freshly shaved chin. "General Wheeler, the younger ones are twins, one is a farrier, the tall one. The other has the makings of a bugler, as you heard, if he can get his timing right," Stevenson chuckled. "The older one seems to be a sharpshooter away from the 24th Tennessee. He was sent home, he says, for that hurt hand to heal." The major's voice took on a serious note, "Civilians, family folk of theirs, were killed by some of our noble boys in blue from up North way." With a lightened demeanor, "All of them want to become part of this merry band."
The chief of the cavalry looked over the three, beginning with J. N., the tallest. Then he took in Alex and finally Lou. It was an interesting rag-tag trio much like his command, disheveled and a mixed bunch.
Joseph Wheeler had come to terms with his short stature at West Point. He'd learned in New Mexico four years ago that good fighters, especially horse soldiers, come in all sizes. It's about brains and courage, not how big you are. Those persistent ruthless and often successful hostile Apache were all small but they were formidable adversaries. Their spirits were giant-sized. Even with his learnings about size and men in every new encounter he was aware of the other man's size. He didn't judge them or himself, but he was aware of his size in relationship to others.
J. N. stood over a half-foot taller and weighed thirty more pounds. Alex was about the General's height but outweighed him by at least twenty pounds. Lou was about his shape and weight, 110 or so, but a few inches taller. Each cousin, in turn, respectfully looked down, not into, the little general's probing eyes when his gaze came to each one in turn.
The young general said to Lou, "Son, you any good as a farrier?"
Silent for a long moment and in a quiet, low voice Lou said, "Well, General, Sir, I've been working with my grandfather and father a long time learning how to tend mules and horses. Daddy always told me, 'Lou, them animals work hard for us and they deserve being taken good care of for the job they do for us. Keep them healthy and well shod, always.'" Lou surprised herself with the lengthy report. She wasn't the talker; Alex and J. N. took care of that. She saw in the general a kindness and felt not at ease, but also not scared.