Chapter twenty-three
Maryland, near the Pennsylvania BorderLieutenant Franklin Taylor was in a deep sleep on his ground cot when he felt someone poke him in the shoulder.
“Rise and shine, lieutenant.”
Taylor opened his eyes, slowly. It was pitch dark. He looked up.
“Taylor, we have to talk,” a man standing over him whispered, smelling of horseflesh and leather. “In private somewhere.”
“Who are you?” Taylor asked, his throat dry.
“Never you mind, mister. Where can we go?”
Taylor rubbed his mouth and eyes, and threw off his blanket. “By the creek, yonder.”
The two men slid away from the camp and found a path through some bushes to the creek bank.
Taylor stumbled and looked back. “This should be good enough.”
“Keep your voice low. We safe here?”
“Yes. Who are you?”
“Washington sen
