When the Splendor Falls

by Laurie McBain

  “Mister Adam, good to see you, sir,” Stephen spoke from the doorway. “See you didn’t forget us,” he said, gesturing back at the chest. “See you even remembered to bring us that flour. We might be havin’ some biscuits for supper this evenin’,” he said.

  “A feast, Stephen, because I even managed to get my connivin’ hands on a small smoked ham, not up to Travers Hill’s standards, mind you now, but I don’t suppose anyone will mind,” he said, getting slowly to his feet, and with a last glance at his sleeping daughter, he started toward the door.

  “Ah, that’ll please Jolie somethin’ fierce. Always makes her feel better when she can cook somethin’ special. Been mopin’ ’round like one of Mister Guy’s hounds since yesterday when the cap’n an’ his soldiers come, ’cause she always gets this bad feelin’ when he’s ’round, with nothin’ good coming of it like four years ago. An’ there was thunder last night too,” Stephen was saying somewhat grudgingly, when he suddenly remembered that no one was supposed to know about the captain, and he cut himself off abruptly, drawing even more attention to himself.

  “The captain and his men?” Adam asked, his gaze intent as Stephen stared guiltily at Leigh, as if they shared a secret, and had something to hide.

  “Yes, the rebels I told you about. They were looking for the Yankees who attacked Richmond,” Leigh said quickly, rather too quickly, Adam thought, noticing the nervous way her gaze wouldn’t meet his.

  “I thought he was a major. Demoted him rather fast, haven’t you?” Guy asked with an amused laugh.

  “Pouvez-vous prendre la boîte, s’il vous plaît?” Adam called to Noelle, who opened her mouth in surprise, jumping to her feet as she understood his question and ran after him and Stephen to unload the box of smuggled-in goods.

  “Let’s see, now,” Althea murmured, opening up the newspaper Leigh had handed her. “It’s all right, Leigh, I do have the strength to hold the paper,” Althea said, glancing up in surprise when Leigh continued to hover nearby, but Leigh had been watching the door nervously, wondering what Adam might be asking Stephen.

  “The headlines, first, Althea,” Guy said. “Then some of those amusing vignettes. I read some real sidesplitters in Richmond years ago. They were reprinted from a Georgia newspaper. They were supposedly letters sent to a ‘Mr. Abe Linkhorn’ from a bumpkin called ‘Bill Arp.’ Lampooned everything and everyone.”

  “All right. Hmmmm, what do you want to hear about first?” Althea asked, perusing the headlines quickly. “Deserters? There seem to be more than ever, and the government is offering amnesty and pardons to those who will return immediately to the ranks. Otherwise, they will be dealt with harshly; by courts-martial. How about the current price of meal? Good Lord! Four dollars a peck for turnip greens. Oh, my, whatever is this world coming to? A Baptist preacher was actually attacked for selling a barrel of flour for five hundred dollars. I wonder if any of his attackers were from his congregation,” she said worriedly. “My goodness, over a hundred escaped last month from Libby Prison. The federal prisoners dug a tunnel and walked right out onto the streets of Richmond. A couple of escaped prisoners drowned trying to swim to safety, others were caught in the homes of Unionists in the city, or on the outskirts hiding out in abandoned farms, but almost half made it back to the federal lines.

  “And listen to this! Just a couple of days ago a train full of gold bullion was robbed. They stole the engine, then ran it off the tracks near Gordonsville. They blew up the rest of the train and murdered the soldiers guarding the gold shipment. A Major Montgomery Stanfield was their commanding officer. Shot them down in cold blood after they’d disarmed them, leaving only one survivor. Later, after they’d destroyed the engine, the engineer and the train’s crew were killed. How horrible,” Althea said, shaking her head in disbelief at the viciousness of the act.

  “Stanfield?” Guy questioned. “I knew a Major Stanfield. Met him at Headquarters a couple of times. A real gentleman. What a shame,” Guy said sadly, wondering if anyone was going to live through this war.

  “That stirred up the countryside,” Adam said as he reentered the study, carrying an armful of woolens and other items. “And, of course, when Dahlgren tried to raid Richmond every regiment was alerted and went in pursuit, or so it seemed. I’ve never seen so much activity.”

  “They say here that the raiders who stole the gold were led by the murderous Captain Dagger. What a frightening name. I don’t believe I remember you reading to us recently about this raider, Leigh. I think I remember hearing about him in Richmond. Something Blythe said. She was always so curious about everything. But I do know about Major Mosby, and…oh, look, it says here that he was promoted to lieutenant colonel, and I know about Jeb Stuart, of course, and even that awful Quantrill.”

  Leigh’s hand suddenly shook as she took the bar of soap from Adam. Dropping it, she bent down quickly to retrieve it, not seeing Adam’s eyes narrowing thoughtfully on her.

  “That’s because this one is a Yankee. The others are rebel raiders,” she explained offhandedly.

  “And which side you happen to be on makes it either right or wrong, and how his exploits are reported and perceived by the public,” Guy said with a laugh. “Well, whether it’s Dagger, or Quantrill, whether wearing blue or gray, there isn’t much difference. Bushwhackers, the lot of them.”

  “They call his men the Bloodriders. I can see why. I hope they catch them and hang them all,” Althea said, sounding bloodthirsty herself.

  “I think, sometimes, what we hear about certain raiders, certain skirmishes, must surely be exaggerated, perhaps even false. I’m sure this Captain Dagger cannot be the outlaw he has been reported to be,” Leigh heard herself saying, and glancing up, she caught Adam’s eye. For a long moment they stared at each other.

  “I’ll be glad to see the ‘sun’ again,” Adam said, sounding casual enough as he changed the subject, except to Leigh, and she knew then he knew the truth of Captain Dagger’s identity. He had not forgotten his cousin’s Comanche name either.

  “Summer,” Althea said softly, as if already breathing the warm, softly scented breezes drifting in from the gardens.

  “I wonder if this Captain Dagger is anywhere close,” Guy suddenly demanded.

  “I certainly hope not!” Althea said, a frightened expression crossing her face.

  “With all of the soldiers scouring the countryside, searching for this raider, I doubt we are in any danger. But Gordonsville, where the train was robbed, isn’t too far distant, and I heard that a railroad trestle, quite nearby, in fact, was blown just yesterday. They caught this Captain Dagger in a crossfire on the road not far from here. I ran into a number of patrols, and they had quite a tale to tell. Seem to think this Captain Dagger is indestructible. He rides a big bay, with wings, one of the soldiers said, because he seemed to fly out of danger with a thundering of hooves, and out of range of their barrage of bullets. They cannot understand how he escaped their ambush, riding away unscathed, although some of his men weren’t so lucky,” Adam said, staring intently at Leigh’s face, but she was avoiding meeting his eye this time and he found himself wondering why, especially when remembering Stephen’s strange comments earlier.

  “I knew I heard an explosion yesterday,” Guy said, slapping his thigh and startling his hounds. “Are you sure it was this Dahlgren the troop of soldiers that came through here yesterday were looking for, and not this Captain Dagger?” Guy questioned.

  Leigh cleared her throat of huskiness. “I really don’t remember. Is it important? A Yankee is a Yankee.”

  “Women,” Guy snorted in masculine disgust. “No, not really, just curious, that’s all.”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about Dahlgren. They caught him,” Adam said.

  “Leaves Captain Dagger, then.”

  “Yes, that leaves Captain Dagger, doesn’t it,” Adam murmured. “Our troops seem to think they’ve got him trapped hereabouts,” Adam speculated, seeing a flash of dismay cross Leigh’s face before she co
uld hide her true feelings this time.

  “Maybe I should offer my services. Could send out my two hounds, here, hunt him down,” Guy joked. “If he can’t get out, if they’ve actually managed for once to tighten the noose around this raider, then he’s probably holed up just like a fox,” Guy mused. “Wish I did have my pack of hounds. If this Dagger fella tried to double back on his trail, or tried to cross the river or ride the streambeds to lose his scent, then we’d find where he came out, we wouldn’t lose him. We’d catch him. Track him right to his hiding place, just like a fox thinking he’s safe in his den in some hollowed-out log or a cave up in the rocks.”

  Adam stood for a moment as if struck by lightning as he stared at Guy Travers, then he suddenly laughed softly.

  “Come on, Stephen,” he said, “I’ll help you carry the chest out to the kitchens.”

  “Oh, Mister Adam, it’s not heavy now. I can manage just fine,” Stephen said as he followed Adam from the room, glancing back at Leigh worriedly, because the young gentleman had already been asking far too many questions about the goings-on at Travers Hill.

  “Fine, I’ll stable my horse,” Adam said, surprised by the sudden look of fear that crossed Stephen’s face as he picked up the lightened chest.

  “Miss Leigh doesn’t put the animals in the stables anymore. Don’t you remember, Mister Adam? We got them stabled in the back kitchens now. You don’t want to go down to the stables. They’re not real clean anymore,” he said quickly.

  “My cousin, Neil Braedon, Captain Dagger, isn’t still down there, is he?” Adam suddenly asked, his question catching Stephen off guard, as Adam intended it should.

  “Oh, no, the cap’n an’ his men left yesterday after dark—”

  “So, I was right, Neil has been here, hasn’t he, Stephen?”

  “Mister Adam, I can’t say anything more. Don’t you ask me now, ’cause I’m not sayin’. Don’t know who’ll be the madder, Miss Leigh, or Jolie,” he said fretfully.

  “Don’t worry, Stephen. I already suspected as much,” Adam told him.

  “You suspected what?”

  Adam turned to see Leigh standing in the doorway.

  “That you have aided and abetted the enemy,” he said slowly, but when seeing the stricken look on her face, he relented. “I would have done the same, Leigh. He is my cousin.”

  Softly, yet firmly, Leigh shut the study door behind her and hurried to his side. “You know?”

  “That Captain Dagger is my cousin? Yes. That Captain Dagger and his men, these murderous Bloodriders, came to Travers Hill and found shelter in your stables? Yes.”

  “I didn’t have much choice.”

  “Oh?”

  “No, he didn’t give any.”

  “Sounds like Neil.”

  “He and his men were already in the stables when I went down there to get a bale of hay. He attacked me, Adam, out in the field and carried me back into the stables.”

  Adam couldn’t help but laugh. “I seem to remember you accosted him, and with your grandpapa’s fowling piece, the last time you met,” he reminded her. “How was he?” he asked, suddenly serious.

  “Unhurt. But some of his men were badly wounded. We did the best we could for them,” Leigh admitted.

  “You helped them?” Adam said, shaking his head in amazement.

  “They were hurt. I didn’t do any more than I did when our home was used as a Yankee field hospital,” Leigh told him.

  “There is a slight difference in the circumstances. And weren’t they still in the stables when our soldiers came through? Stephen says they didn’t leave until after dark,” he said, asking the question Leigh had hoped he would not.

  “Yes. I lied to them,” she said, staring up at Adam almost defiantly.

  “You could have betrayed them.”

  “I didn’t want fighting on Travers land. There are children in the house, as well as Althea and Guy,” she explained readily enough.

  “Of course,” Adam said, as if it was all very plain to him. “Nor did you wish to see Neil and his men massacred, did you, Leigh?” he added softly. “That is what would have happened with them trapped in the stables, his men wounded.”

  Leigh shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now. He’s gone, Adam. And I don’t know where he is, and I don’t care.”

  “Don’t you?” Adam persisted.

  “No!” she cried, her cheeks flushed. “Guy and Althea don’t know he was here. I thought it best to keep it a secret,” she said, glancing at a guilty-looking Stephen.

  “Don’t blame Stephen. You forget, I knew the identity of Captain Dagger, and that he’d been seen in these parts. He knows this countryside. If he needed a place to hide, I think I know where he would go. I’m surprised he came by Travers Hill, but if he had wounded, it would have served his purpose.”

  “He and his men didn’t steal that gold,” Leigh told him, for some reason wanting Adam not to believe his cousin was a cold-blooded murderer.

  “How do you know?”

  “He told me so.”

  “And you believed him?” Adam asked. “Why should you believe anything good of Neil Braedon? I know about that evening, Leigh, the evening you announced your engagement to Matthew Wycliffe. I know what happened in the gardens.”

  “Neil told you?”

  “No, Guy did. When he sobered, he was quite ashamed of himself, and what he’d cost you. Of course, we were all surprised about Neil’s sudden departure from Royal Bay, and that when he left he took Capitaine, the colt you would sell to no one. I understand he drove a hard bargain that night. Your colt, or your brother’s life. So why should you believe Neil Braedon innocent of this latest brutality?”

  Leigh had her answer ready. “Because they didn’t know about the gold bullion having been stolen. They, his men, were shocked. They weren’t lying, either. I would have known. They were very indignant. Angry, even, that they were being blamed. They admitted they’d blown up the railroad and that was why they were here; not to steal and murder. I believed them,” Leigh said.

  Adam smiled, touching her hot cheek with the tip of his finger. “I always knew what Blythe was thinking. She couldn’t hide anything from me. Her eyes, and the wild blush that stained her cheeks, always gave her away,” Adam said.

  Leigh opened her mouth to protest, but Adam had turned away.

  “I’m going to stable my horse, then unpack my things,” he said tiredly. “But after that, we’re going to have that talk, Leigh,” he reminded her, his expression determined.

  “I’ll see to your horse, Adam. No, no arguments. You know I do a better job,” she said, noting worriedly the bluish tinge around his lips.

  “I cannot argue, at least with that,” he added, picking up the small bag he’d brought in with the woven chest and climbing the stairs.

  For a moment, Leigh watched him, but when Adam stopped on the landing and looked back, she was gone.

  Adam stood there for a moment, out of breath, a bleakness in his eyes as so many memories came flooding back to him. He walked past the closed doors to the silent rooms. He paused for a moment before the door to Leigh’s bedchamber, once Blythe’s too—before he had taken her as his bride.

  On impulse, he entered the cold room, shutting the door behind him. He stared at the big four-poster, the quilt folded neatly, the blanket chest at the foot, where the trundle bed used to be, the cradle placed close where an arm could readily reach out to rock it gently during the long night. On the soft pillow was the silver baby rattle with the coral handle that he and Blythe had selected together when she’d discovered she was with child.

  Dropping his bag, he knelt down beside the chest and opened the lid. Drawing a deep breath, he reached inside, removing the sword that had belonged to Palmer William. He pulled the glinting blade partly from its scabbard, staring at it for a moment, a faraway look in his eye. Then he shoved it back in, moving it aside and forgetting about it when his hand came into contact with the softness of Blythe’s cloak. How many times
had he seen her wearing it, the emerald green reflected in her hazel eyes, shining with such love of life, her laughing face hidden in the dark fur?

  Why Blythe? he wondered for the thousandth time. Why had she been taken from him? His blithe spirit, the light of his life. Why her? Why a lovely young creature of such sweetness and innocence, who had never hurt anyone or anything in her life? Why? he asked, hot tears falling onto the velvety folds of the cloak.

  He touched the moist spot and saw the ivory fan. He remembered the night of her sixteenth birthday party, when he’d first realized she had become a beautiful woman, the woman he had fallen in love with. She’d flirted innocently with him that night, peeking at him from behind the delicately carved ivory, teasing him, and never realizing she’d captured his heart. Folded on top of the cloak was the shawl. He ran his finger along the lacy edge, remembering draping it across her pale shoulders, and placing a kiss against her throat, where her pulse had been beating wildly, and he had known then she was not averse to his touch.

  Adam’s hand closed around the dark green perfume bottle. How she had loved it, he thought, and removing the stopper, he caught his breath as the sweetly spiced fragrance floated around him, reminding him of when they had lain together as lovers. Carefully, he replaced it, his hand touching the silver brush and comb that had graced her dressing table. He felt the flatness of the delicate, floral-painted embroidery work box that held her sewing materials: mother-of-pearl thimble, needle cases, scissors, and tape measure. He had given it to her, thinking it merely a pretty box, but she’d seemed to take great pleasure in actually using it, especially when mending his clothes, although she’d despaired of ever having enough gray thread. He’d gotten her the cut brass and red tortoiseshell desk set when in the Bahamas. She’d used it to write letters home, and to him. Long, loving letters that had been such a joy to receive, lifting his spirits as he thought of returning to her. A stack of neatly tied letters had been placed next to the desk set in the chest.