“I’ve my own whiskey, but I’ll have a coffee first and thank you kindly, Colonel.” Starbuck watched as Evans’s shadow drank the Colonel’s coffee. “What I want you to do, Faulconer,” Evans demanded when the coffee was drained, “is move your boys down to the road, then on up to a wooden bridge here.” He had evidently opened a map that he spread on Faulconer’s bed. “There’s a deal of timber around the bridge and I guess if you keep your boys hidden then the sons of bitch Yankees won’t know you’re there. Of course we may all end up being about as much use as a pair of balls on a shad-bellied priest, but on the other hand we may not.”

Evans’s staff officer lit a cigar and gave Adam and Starbuck a desultory glance. Thaddeus Bird, Ethan Ridley and at least a score of other men were openly listening to the conversation inside the tent.

“I don’t understand,” Faulconer said.

“It ain’t difficult.” Evans paused and there was a scratching sound as he struck a match to light a cigar. “Yankees are over the stream. They want to keep advancing on Manassas Junction. Capture that and they’ve cut us from the valley army. Beauregard’s facing them, but he ain’t the kind to wait to get hit, so he plans to attack on their left, our right.” Evans was demonstrating the moves on his map. “So Beauregard’s got most of our army out on the right. Way over eastward, two miles away at least, and if he can get his pants buttoned before noon he’ll probably attack later today. He’ll hook round the back of the bastards and kill as many as he can. Which is dandy, Faulconer, but suppose the sons of bitches decide to attack us first? And suppose they ain’t as dumb as northerners usually are and instead of marching straight into our faces suppose they try to hook around our left? We’re the only troops to stop them. In fact there’s nothing between us and Mexico, Faulconer, so what if the pox-ridden bastards do decide to have a go at this flank?” Evans chuckled. “That’s why I’m right glad you’re here, Colonel.”

“Are you saying I’m attached to your brigade?” Faulconer asked.

“I ain’t got orders for you, if that’s what you mean, but why the hell else were you sent here?”

“I have an appointment with General Beauregard at six in the morning to discover just that,” Faulconer said.