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Chapter 63

I growled low in my throat. “You are well-named. A wolverine is a wily beast.”

* * * *

The next day, two Pipe Stem warriors escorted me until I was almost within sight of the bridge near the town. Thereafter, a buckboard and I were the only travelers on the road in the early April chill. The livery agreed to look after my Conestoga, so I reserved a room at the Rainbow and headed for the public bath. As I waited my turn, Second Lt. James Morrow entered, and we refreshed our acquaintance. I expressed surprise the public facilities drew military custom.

“Too rushed and hurried an affair at the barracks,” the blond-headed, baby-faced officer explained. “It’s all right for getting clean, but once in a while I like to sit and soak.”