When the Splendor Falls

by Laurie McBain

  Her letters to Leigh, he was thinking, when he noticed a wadded-up piece of paper tucked down deep on the side. He pulled it out and smoothed it open.

  “Damn!” he cursed softly beneath his breath as he read the tax assessment and knew the reason now why the offending piece of paper had been crumpled into a ball and stuffed deep in the chest.

  He had one just like it in his own coat pocket.

  Replacing Palmer William’s sword, he lowered the lid of the chest, closing out the memories of happier times, of other days, of those who had died. He thought of the family cemetery on the high ground overlooking the peaceful river, where he had stopped and knelt beside his wife’s grave, the rest of the Travers family at rest around her. He couldn’t help them any longer, but his daughter, and these people at Travers Hill, who were his family now, he could help, he decided as he walked over to the window and stared out across the barren trees toward the bend in the river—remembering a secret place where he, Nathan, and Neil had hidden when boys.

  And he wondered if Sun Dagger—Captain Dagger—had remembered it.

  Seventeen

  Thou hast given him his heart’s desire.

  Psalm 21:2

  “Wish we had some more of that hot broth right now. Would taste mighty good,” the Bucktail said wistfully.

  “Wish we did too, Bucky, just to keep your stomach from rumbling so loud,” the sentinel about to relieve himself agreed as he heard the loud grumbling from behind his turned back. “Sure to give us away to any reb patrols nearby,” he commented, selecting a couple of green leaves and thinking they would do nicely.

  “Reckon they’ll jus’ think it’s thunder.”

  “What was that?” his friend asked, jerking up his breeches. “Wouldn’t you know, after all the battles I been in, the rebs would finally catch me, and me with my breeches down ’round my ankles,” he said, humiliated.

  “Didn’t hear nothin’,” the Bucktail said, gazing into the darkness beneath the stone bridge. “Gettin’ light,” he said, glancing at the gray clouds, tinged with pink, overhead.

  “Wonder how long the cap’n’s goin’ to stay holed up here.”

  “Reckon till some of them reb patrols get tired of bumpin’ into themselves comin’ and goin’ and findin’ nothin’ of the Bloodriders. Besides, McGuire and the lieutenant wouldn’t be able to get far, ’specially if we had to make a run for it. McGuire’s been feverish the last two nights. Never heard such babblin’. Lil’ reb knew what she was doin’, though, ’cause the cap’n says McGuire’s wound ain’t festerin’ none. Wish Jimmy was doin’ as well. Too bad, him havin’ that attack of swamp fever. Thought he was lookin’ a bit peaked. Kept gettin’ the shivers yesterday. Came down with it last summer. Remember when we were in White Oak Swamp? Didn’t think we’d ever get out of there to Seven Pines, then, couldn’t believe all that marshland north of Fair Oaks Station. Never thought we’d make it to the banks of the Chickahominy, and Jimmy comin’ down sick with that fever and rebs swarmin’ all over the place. I sure thought he was over it. Would’ve brought along a tin of quinine if I’d known.”

  “Wish we had a fire. It’d help poor ol’ Jimmy stop shakin’. Don’t think he’s goin’ to have any teeth left. Say, you remember them ash cakes we had a while back?” the other one asked, thinking of the cornmeal they’d mixed with water and salt and some beef drippings. Patting the mixture into cakes, then wrapping them up tight in wet cloth, they’d buried them under hot ashes. “Nice an’ crunchy, remember? Now that’d make a tasty breakfast this mornin’. Figure we’ll be chewin’ on beef jerky. Least it ain’t rainin’.”

  “Ought to have wars just in summertime. Figure the best time for fightin’, and bein’ out in the countryside, is in late summer or early autumn, ’cause there’s plenty to eat. You remember that cornfield? We took them ears of corn and roasted them right in the shuck. Best tastin’ I’ve ever had.”

  “Only wish we’d had some butter.”

  “Yup, would’ve too, ’ceptin’ for you makin’ eyes at that farmer’s wife. Shouldn’t have done that, Bucky. ’Specially after they gave us that buttermilk, and him standin’ there with that bucket of hog slop,” his friend complained, wandering around the small clearing as if searching for something.

  “Didn’t want to disappoint her, her bein’ so glad to see a good-lookin’ man for a change,” the Bucktail said. “Never seen such an ugly fella as that jug-headed jackass she was hitched to.”

  “Yeah, well he missed his aim and it took me a week to get that slop out of my clothes,” he remembered.

  “Gotta learn to move faster, Davy,” the Bucktail warned. “Figure you stood there lookin’ like a fool for about a minute.”

  “Yup, had me cold, he did. Me standin’ there jus’ to the left of you. Missed you by ’bout a foot didn’t he?”

  “You was about a foot back of me and to the right a bit. Wish you’d keep still now. What’re you looking for anyhow?”

  “Some more green leaves.”

  “Ain’t you finished yet?” the Bucktail demanded with a sigh. “Here, I’ll help you. Thought I saw some big, soft green leaves over this way,” he was murmuring thoughtfully as he moved toward the stone bridge where the entwining vines dangled thickly like a concealing curtain. “How many you goin’ to need?”

  “Reckon ’bout three.”

  “That many, eh?”

  “Yup. Say, do you remember when we got our hands on that whiskey and tried to sneak it back into camp?”

  “Sure do.”

  “Hid one barrel in Schneickerberger’s breeches. Tied the legs off and stuffed them full of corncobs. Put the other barrel in his coat, then stuck that lil’ pumpkin on top, with Schneickerberger’s slouch hat pulled down low. That picket let us walk right by, though I saw him eyein’ Schneickerberger’s breeches mighty close like, ’specially seein’ how that corncob was stickin’ out where it shouldn’t have been. Would’ve done all right, ’cept that dogrobber of a cook found the barrels and started to do a little double-shot drinkin’ out of them every time he was in our tent. Still wonder what he started puttin’ in the one to keep it filled. Kept gettin’ more sour by the day. Thought he was goin’ to faint when we forced him to drink from it.”

  “Ah, here’s one,” the Bucktail said, pulling on a green leaf from the vine, “and…two…and…THREE!”

  Suddenly he ducked beneath, his friend doing the same at precisely the same instant. There was a scuffling sound and some cursing, then they reappeared from behind the curtain of vines, dragging their struggling captive with them into the revealing light.

  “Works every time,” the Bucktail said with a grin, before making a sound like a whippoorwill, then glancing down at the man held trussed like a turkey between them. The knife held pressed against the man’s throat suddenly wavered, however, as he stared into the man’s pale eyes.

  “Cap’n?” he said in disbelief, shaking his head as if to clear it of grogginess, the knife falling from his hand.

  “Cap’n, sir!” Davy said, releasing the man’s arm as he took a step back, thinking they were in trouble now. He would have sworn no one had gotten past him. “Didn’t fall asleep, sir! I swear on my mother’s honor.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t,” the man spoke softly, his amused Southern drawl startling them.

  Davy glanced over at the Bucktail, who’d also rather quickly released his hold on the captive, but who’d also been eyeing the captain up and down, a frown gathering on his brow as he took note of the gray trousers beneath the long gray cape.

  “Always thought the cap’n was taller, didn’t you, Davy?” he asked now, his troubled gaze meeting his friend’s bewildered one as he stepped back and raised his rifle. “Jus’ knew we wouldn’t catch the captain sleeping. Hands up, reb!”

  “You sure he ain’t the cap’n?”

  “The cap’n don’t have no mustache. And he ain’t this skinny!”

  “Shoot, ye’re right, Bucky. But then who the devil is he, if h
e ain’t?” he asked, still not quite convinced.

  “Hello, Adam.” Their captain’s voice spoke behind them.

  “Neil.” Adam Braedon returned the greeting cordially.

  The Bucktail and Davy spun around, then glanced quickly between the two. “One of your kin, Cap’n,” the Bucktail stated, spitting just short of Adam’s shiny boot.

  “My cousin.”

  “Thank you,” Adam said, relieved to be identified.

  “Reckon I just about slit his throat. Figure him lookin’ so much like you, saved his reb neck.”

  Adam laughed. “Ah, one of the Bloodriders. And as bloodthirsty as I’ve been led to believe. This is truly an honor. I was afraid I’d never have the opportunity of making your acquaintance,” he said. “Your exploits are becoming legendary. You’ll forgive me for not holding out my hand, but I suspect any sudden moves would end in my demise.”

  “Real smooth-tongued talker, ain’t he?” the Bucktail said, eyeing this supposed kin of the captain’s suspiciously.

  “He was spyin’ on us, Cap’n. Caught him skulkin’ behind the vines,” Davy said, quick to explain himself.

  “Skulking? Good Lord, I’ve never skulked in my life,” Adam said, sounding insulted. “You’ve trained your men well, Neil. They did indeed catch me woolgathering. I was about to announce my presence, when my attention wandered momentarily. I am curious, though, did you really sneak those two barrels of whiskey into camp, or was that just for my benefit?” he demanded.

  The Bucktail laughed. “Yes, sir, it really happened, though Davy and me exaggerated a bit now and then just to keep the tale interesting, and sweetly baited. Never know what kind of fish we’re goin’ to catch on our hook,” he said, then glanced over at his captain. He’d come up quietly behind them, having heard the signal that they had trouble. The rest of the men were gathered at the mouth of the cave, alerted and ready to fight.

  “Sir?” he asked now, wondering what they were supposed to do with the gentleman reb they’d caught. “He’s the enemy, Cap’n,” he reminded him unnecessarily. “He might be of a mind to give us away, ’specially if you got any feudin’ in your family. Reckon these folks might not look kindly on you wearin’ blue.”

  “Had I been of such a knavish disposition, I already would have alerted the countryside. The whole Confederate army seems to be hot on your trail,” Adam told them. “I had the devil of a time avoiding the many patrols, but since they caught Dahlgren, and southeast of here, they’ve loosened the noose somewhat. Although, Captain Dagger and the Bloodriders would be quite a catch for some troop hungry for glory.”

  “Has a way with words, he does,” the Bucktail muttered.

  “Thank you,” Adam said, a slow grin spreading across his face as he met Neil’s glance.

  “Hey, how’d he know who we was, and where to find us?” the Bucktail suddenly demanded.

  His captain held out his hand, Adam grasping it unhesitatingly and warmly. “My cousins and I used to hide out in this cave when we were boys. And I was known to them then as Dagger. He’s always been very good at putting two and two together. We can trust him. I’ll stand the watch now,” he said, ordering his men back into the cave, while he remained, standing alone with Adam in the clearing that was now lightened by daybreak.

  They stood in silence, each taking the other’s measure, their hands still clasped for a moment in friendship.

  “I had wondered if I’d ever see you again, Adam,” Neil said.

  “And I you, although I did have the advantage of being able to follow your daring exploits in the newspapers,” he said.

  Neil frowned slightly. “You should not believe all that you read.”

  “I never have, but I’ve also had the advantage over most Southerners who do. I know Neil Braedon, and Sun Dagger, they don’t.”

  “Thank you,” Neil said, eyeing his cousin curiously, and worriedly, for Adam did not look well. His once healthy complexion was sallow, his cheeks sunken, his eyes almost feverishly bright, and although always of a slender build, he was gaunt-looking now. “How did you know I was here?”

  “I arrived at Travers Hill yesterday.”

  Neil nodded understandingly.

  Adam laughed. “No, Leigh didn’t tell me, at least not until I’d already tricked the information out of Stephen. Then, and most reluctantly, she confessed her sins of having helped you and your men, and then stated most emphatically that she had no idea where you had gone—although, I suspect she hoped it might be to the devil,” Adam added, being purposefully provocative as he watched his cousin’s face.

  “Naturally,” Neil said shortly, his pale gray-green eyes glinting with a strange expression.

  “You certainly have a way of rubbing her the wrong way.”

  Neil looked momentarily startled, and Adam smiled, an interested gleam in his eyes as he wondered about what had happened between them. “Coming from Richmond, I heard about the gold bullion being stolen.”

  “That is one of the stories about the Bloodriders that you shouldn’t believe,” Neil reminded him.

  “So I understand. Apparently Leigh believed you when you told her you hadn’t massacred those guards. However, I understand you can claim as your handiwork the blowing up of the railroad trestle. I also understand that you were caught in an ambush. Hear you’ve quite a few wounded, so I suspected, if you were still around here, this was the only safe place you could hide. I hadn’t realized you would go to Travers Hill first—but then, perhaps, that shouldn’t surprise me,” he stated oddly.

  “I hadn’t planned on it, but after seeing Royal Bay—I am sorry, Adam,” Neil said abruptly, remembering the haunting sight of the solitary chimneys rising from the ashes of the once great house.

  “Leigh told you what happened?”

  “Yes. And she told me about your family. She says Nathan is missing in action in Tennessee.”

  “Good ol’ Nathan. What a waste,” Adam said bitterly. “Althea thinks he’ll come back one day, and I haven’t the heart to tell her that he’s probably dead.” He hesitated, then said, “Leigh told you about Blythe?”

  “Yes.”

  Adam nodded, unable to say anything for a moment. “I still cannot believe she is gone, Neil. We had so short a time together, but it was the happiest time of my life. I look around, and I cannot believe any of this has happened. Sometimes I feel as if I’m going to wake up, and find that I’ve had a horrible nightmare. Royal Bay gone. Mother. Nathan. Even Julia is lost to us. I heard about Justin.”

  Neil said something beneath his breath that Adam couldn’t understand, the tongue unintelligible to him. “He was a fine young man. Years ago, when our father wasn’t around to overhear, Justin would talk me into telling him stories of the great Comanche warriors. He always seemed fascinated that a warrior’s destiny should be to die honorably on the field of battle.”

  “Seems like yesterday, Blythe’s birthday party. I can still see Justin and Palmer William in their uniforms, both so young, and now both gone. How is Aunt Camilla?”

  “I had a letter a couple of months ago from Lys Helene. She says her mother collapsed when she was informed of Justin’s death. Did you know she was planning a trip to Virginia? She wanted to attend his graduation from VMI.”

  “Your father?” Adam questioned.

  “He never says much. He was always proud of Justin, and they got along well enough, but Justin was closer to Camilla. At least she still has Lys Helene and Gil, who is too young to fight in this war. And what fighting there was in the territory is over now that it is under federal jurisdiction again.”

  “We…ah, the Confederacy, claimed the territory early in the war, I believe,” Adam said, frowning, for he hadn’t paid much attention to the battles in the west.

  “Yes, some Texans under Sibley, but they were driven out during the fighting in Apache Canyon and Glorieta Pass. Lys Helene said my father would have fought them whether they’d been wearing blue or gray, more concerned that they were Texans.”
/>
  “There hasn’t been much fighting out there, since?”

  “No. At least not between the Union forces and the Confederacy.”

  Adam coughed, choking slightly. Tapping his fingertips together as if lost in thought, he asked, “Royal Rivers is safe from Indian attack, isn’t it?”

  “No place is safe from attack, especially if you get careless,” Neil said.

  “Have there been many attacks, or massacres, recently?”

  “When I left the territory, Kit Carson, who was the Indian agent for the Pueblo Indians, the Apache, and the Utes, and is now in command of the First New Mexico Cavalry, was handling any uprising that threatened. Lys Helene wrote that he led an expedition against the Navajos, and defeated them at Canyon de Chelly and on the Little Colorado. Why?”

  “It just seems to me that Royal Rivers hasn’t been bothered by the Indians in some time.”

  “It hasn’t, probably because my father takes every precaution he can to protect his family, and the servants and workers who live at Royal Rivers. And we get protection from Fort Union.”

  “Aunt Camilla? She’s been content living in the territory? She seemed very happy when I visited there.”

  “You saw Royal Rivers. Aunt Camilla lives like a queen. Royal Rivers is a kingdom unto itself. As you know, my father inherited a handsome sum from our grandfather, and he’s made a fortune selling his beef and wool, especially since the war. The house has been furnished like a palace. My father has never begrudged Camilla, and the others, anything, except perhaps his love, but I’ve never heard Camilla complain. Of course, she has her family around her, and her widowed sister and two maiden aunts are now living at Royal Rivers. They keep her company. She has countless friends in Taos and Santa Fe, Las Vegas and Cimarron. The ranch always has overnight visitors.”

  “You still have rooms there, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Riovado?” Adam asked.

  “Someday,” Neil answered, thinking of his cabin in the high country. “Why all the questions, Adam?” he suddenly demanded.