14/ Tyrell’s Pistol
When in doubt, always tell a man he’s God’s gift to women.
“Okay, Jasper,” I whispered to myself, “a stranger’s pointin’ a gun at us. How’d you let that happen?”
“Hey,” the boyish voice in my head protested, “you’re the Stone-Warden here. I’m just a lowly servant. Put those wonder senses to their proper use.”
“Ain’t you supposed to protect me from imminent danger?”
“Don’t seem imminent to me.”
“He’s got a gun!” I shouted aloud, before I could catch myself.
The strange voice said, “So I do. Thereis a war on. Can’t be too careful.”
My eyes rose to the top of the highest boulder to my left. Silhouetted by the setting sun, the speaker was just a long-haired shadow in a gray kepi. I shaded my eyes and edged sideways to try for a better look.
“Ah-ah,” he said, scolding me with the barrel of his enormous pistol. “You didn’t say ‘mother-may-I.’ Hands where I can see them, please.”
With a disbelieving snort I pointed out that I was only twelve, and a girl, to boot. That didn’t wash with our new friend. “I’d be tempted to sympathize, but it just so happens that a sergeant in my troop got shot off his horse by a Federal drummer boy who was merely ten. And you’re a sight bigger than him. Look to be a cooler customer, too…er, ma’am.”
I held my hands up and turned around in a full circle. “Look. No gun, no knife, nothin’. Not even a slingshot.” At a nod from me Romulus did the same. “We’re harmless, sir.”
“I don’t know about that. Your darky there looks like he could pick up this rock and heave it to Richmond. He yours?”
“Yes, sir. Bought and paid for.” Sorry, Romulus. I’ll make it up to you later.
“Who else you got with you?”
“Nobody. Just us.”
He seemed to be considering something. After a short pause he slid backwards out of sight. When that happened Romulus moved over so that he could shield me if the Reb came back shooting. I motioned for him to stop. The Marshal would have to pretend to be a slave again, submissive. Small and young as I was, I should still be the white person in charge. This stranger had to be led to believe that, or he might send for more soldiers. It seemed unlikely that he was here on his own.
Romulus got the message at once. He seemed to shrink to half his size and stared at the ground. It broke my heart to see him do it, but knowing that it was just an act reassured me. I did my part by puffing up as if I bossed around giant Negroes every day. I’d seen others do it in Maryland. Though it left a bad taste in my mouth, I was stuck until we could get rid of this fellow. At least the Stone’s still warm. That’s a good sign.
Tyrell eased around the side of the rock pile as if he had not a care in the world. Now that we weren’t staring into the sun we could see him clearly. Tall and lean, but not scrawny, he wore a dusty Confederate uniform. The coat was short, trimmed in yellow, and had three bars on its high collar. Thigh-high black boots with silver spurs clung to his long legs. At one time the kit must’ve cost a pretty penny. You could’ve said the same about its owner. He carried himself with the same haughty air that Booth did. In fact, he might’ve been the actor’s kin, seeing as how he had a similar dark moustache and handsome profile. His face looked longer and sharper, though. More fox-like, with a clean white scar along the left jaw line. Brown as fine chocolate, his eyes gave the unsettling impression that they could both read your mind and see your underclothes.
“Now, then,” he said, slapping rock dust from his clothes while keeping the gigantic pistol trained on us, “you have the advantage of me. I’ve told you my name but I don’t know yours.” His voice betrayed some fine schooling, maybe in Europa. I wondered what had made him join the army. Some fool lust for excitement, I imagined, like most of them.
“Mary Williams,” I answered, picking the name of one of my school friends. Giving this fellow my real name didn’t strike me as sensible. I had no reason to believe he was a Merchantry man, but better safe than sorry at this point. With a nod toward Romulus I added, “This here’s Tom.”
Tyrell leaned back against the rock as if he was safe in his own home. “Well, Miss Williams, I can’t help but wonder why someone of your tender years would be between the lines. Do you live hereabouts?”
“Oh, no, sir,” I said, deciding that playing dumb and innocent might work on his chivalrous nature. In my experience cavalrymen all thought they sat at King Arthur’s table. “I’m lookin’ for my older brother, Eddie. We got word that he might be in Richmond, wounded. Ma sent us to go see.”
The Reb scratched his ear and peered at me. “Is that a fact? Which regiment?”
I knew he’d be bound to ask that, so I was ready for him. Me and Eddie had spent quite a bit of time reading the papers and talking to soldiers. Jackson’s Valley Campaign, a flat Federal failure, had been the talk of Washington that month. “Stonewall Brigade. 33rd Virginia. Company E.”
“Ah, the Emerald Guard. Fine lads. From Irlann, most of them. You look the part yourself and no mistake.”
I made myself look all anxious. “Are they in Richmond, do you know? We’re ever so worried about him. There was some sharp fightin’ in the Valley and down south. Got a letter from a cousin, we did, sayin’ that he thought he’d seen Eddie in Chimborazo.”
Tyrell frowned. “Lot of boys in that hospital. Easy to mistake one of them for someone else, bandaged and all. Seems a flimsy reason to send a girl-child on a hundred-mile journey.”
“He’s the last survivin’ man in our family,” I blubbered, figuring that turning on the waterworks might help my case. “We lost Pa to a shell at Manassas and Jim to dysentery in camp this winter. Eddie’s the only one left. Ma’s beside herself with worry. So she asked me to go huntin’ him while she stayed to work the farm with our other two hands. And now I’m lost!”
Wailing like some two year-old, I feared that I’d over acted it. What would Mr. Ford say? Romulus shuffled over and gave my shoulder a clumsy pat. “There now, Miss Mary. It’ll be alright. Ole Tom’ll look out for you. We’ll find Mr. Eddie, just you wait and see.”
Good job, Romulus. They must have actin’ lessons at the Marshals’ Academy. I could see that Tyrell was buying our story. His pistol barrel drooped off-line and he seemed to be considering his options. Sticking out my lip and making it quiver, I gave him my best forlorn-waif look. What red-blooded Southern gentleman could resist coming to the aid of such a befreckled urchin as me?
“Tell you what,” the good captain said, “I’m a bit lost myself, in a small way. Heading south to get back with Wade Hampton and Jeb Stuart. They need the intelligence I’ve gathered. I reckon I can take you under my wing for a spell, if you’re so inclined.”
I sniffed and wiped my nose on my shirt. “That’s a fine offer, sir. I know it’d make my ma breathe a sight easier to know that such a fine figure of a man as yourself is lookin’ out for us.” Yep. When in doubt, always tell a man he’s God’s gift to women and girls.
The hand-cannon dropped into its holster. With a satisfied smile Tyrell gave me a nod and clapped his hands. “Well, then! Too late to start today. Not more than a couple of hours till sundown. We should get shelter for the night and plan our route for tomorrow.” He waved a hand to the west, toward the houses I’d spotted earlier. “Already spied a likely place. There’s a house yonder that looks as if it’s been abandoned for some time. In fair shape, though. Not plundered too badly by either side yet. No food, but the well seems alright and the roof is good.”
I beamed at him with my most grateful face. “See, Tom, I told you he’d be as sharp as he is handsome. Trust a scout to know the lay of the land. Lead on, Cap’n.”
Tyrell half-turned to do just that, then twisted back around. “Where are your bundles? Surely you aren’t out here with just the clothes on your backs?”
Romulus spoke up, eyes lowered. “Lost ‘em crossin’ the river, sir. Canoe got swamped
by a steamer.”
I backed him up on that. “Like to scared me outta a year’s growth, it did. We were lucky it happened close to shore or my ma might be all alone right now. All I saved was this haversack. Lost my dress and had to uh, borrow these boy’s clothes.”
“Looks like we’ll have to rustle up some grub then,” Tyrell said, squinting into the lowering sun. “But let’s get to that house first and settle in. It’s a goodly hike for a girl your age. Maybe two miles or more. Time for you to join the cavalry.”
With that he gave a whistle as piercing as a steam locomotive’s. My magicked ears felt like they were being stabbed with needles. As I turned away from the noise I saw Roberta take off from her tree. She flew in an alarmed way, it seemed to me. Ernie rode atop her neck, brandishing his little spear. I waved them off as well as I could without attracting Tyrell’s notice. The parrot got the message and swooped low, gliding along the top of the high grass until she landed behind a bush a few yards behind us.
When I looked back to Tyrell, I saw him jog out past the clump of rocks. A vibration buzzed through the ground and up into my feet. Something came our way, signaled by the soldier’s shrill whistle. My better-than-human senses told me it was big, powerful, and alive. It seemed like every time a thing like that showed up it tried to kill us. I laid my fingers on the handle of my Morphageus-cup, just in case it turned out to be something hostile.
Our new arrival came out of the red setting sun like a god in a fairy tale. Bloody light haloed its huge head. Long lovely fair hair danced in the summer air as if it had a life of its own. Full of dark fire, its eyes seemed to dare you look in them for the terrible knowledge it held. Its broad chest and stout legs promised any enemy a hard time of it. This was an impressive specimen. I caught my breath as it skidded to a dusty stop in front of Tyrell.
“Nice horsie,” chuckled Jasper.
“Darn tootin’,” I replied silently, remembering that I needed to keep Jasper a secret.
Tyrell stroked the giant golden horse’s neck and muzzle like a lover. “This is Alcibiades,” he announced, as if the beast was royalty. Maybe he was, with all of the shape-shifting going around. I had read about Alcibiades in school and remembered that he’d been a famous Greek hero who ended up betraying Athens. Prob’ly not a tactful time to bring that up.
“Old Al’s taken me safe and sound through many a battle,” the captain continued. “I know he’ll do the same for you.” I wondered if he’d meant to imply that we’d be fighting battles on our trip. That didn’t bode well. But it would also be typical of the turn my life had taken.
Before I could react Tyrell had grabbed me around my waist and tossed me onto his horse’s back. It felt like sitting on a field of shorn golden grass. That is, if you like being plopped onto the world’s hardest McClellan saddle while you do it. Ow! My bottom! Did he expect me to ride all the way to Richmond on that torture device? Torquemada would’ve blushed to go so far. Maybe Jasper could magick me a pillow.
“Off we go,” said the handsome Rebel, striding ahead of the stallion. He didn’t even bother to grab the reins or bridle. The enormous horse ambled behind him as if tethered by thought instead of harness. Romulus got in step beside me, keeping an eye out for any nasty surprises. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of red and blue in the sky. Roberta followed at a careful distance. Good. We were all together.
As uncomfortable as Tyrell’s saddle felt, at least to my civilian backside, Al’s gait turned out to be smooth as satin. Like riding on a cloud. No wonder the cavalryman seemed in love with his beast. We glided west along the rolling landscape, shading our eyes as the sun slid lower into the mountains. There wasn’t much sign of war here, except for the lack of people. No burning trains, no dead bodies along the road, no signal towers, no fortifications. We could’ve been on a typical summer evening’s stroll. I almost forgot the previous night’s terrors.
Tyrell chattered as he walked, seemingly without a care in the world. But I noticed that his hand stayed near his holster and his eyes never stopped sliding across the terrain. He’d probably sprung enough ambuscades, or blundered into them, to be always on his guard for enemy action. Nothing like a nasty year of war to teach you to stay alert. I’d learned that lesson in just one day.
“I’m from Williamsburg myself,” our host said, waving his left hand to the south. “Lovely old town. Been there forever. Founded in the early 1600’s. Used to be the state capital. The Tyrells have been there since Hector was a pup. Now the Bluebellies have their muddy feet all over it.”
Reminding myself that I was supposed to be a good Confederate, I said, “You must be right eager to get back down there and help clear ‘em out. I know I would be.”
He nodded with a bright smile. “True enough, little lady. I have some special friends waiting to meet me who are itching to help. We should meet up with them in a day or two.”
I wanted to know who these people might be. The more folks we were surrounded by the more likely that we’d be discovered for what we really were. But prying might make him think that we were spies instead of friends. A sidelong glance at Romulus told me that he thought the same thing. We’d have to wait and see how things developed.
At first Tyrell seemed so unguarded in his talk that he might tell us what we wanted to know without a lot of prompting on our part. He mentioned his parents’ names, his sister’s wedding date, his dog’s favorite game, and all manner of personal information. After about a half hour, though, I noticed that he gave out nothing specific about his regiment, commanders, battles, weapons, or plans. Outwardly a charming fool, our captain proved to be nothing of the sort.
We responded in kind. As Tyrell casually but keenly questioned us on our past movements and future intentions, I spun him a long fluffy story about evading Federal patrols in Leesburg, getting spooked by a persistent sharpshooter around Manassas, and stealing a skiff from a wharf in Alexandria. Romulus would help me out when I’d get stuck. Whenever Tyrell tried to pry to closely for details, I managed to fend him off with funny little side stories adapted from tall tales I’d heard from actors and stagehands at Ford’s.
“How’d you come to be in the army?” I asked, to get him off of our affairs and back onto his.
“Why do you ask?” he frowned, as if it was so obvious that no one but a fool would ask.
“I mean did you join like some of the boys did, just because their friends had? Or from pure patriotism, to defend hearth and home? Did your family insist you do them honor by fightin’? Have you hated Yankees from birth? That’s true of a lot of folks.” I gave him a wicked grin. “Or maybe your girl said she’d never kiss you again if you stayed out of the fight?”
He threw his head back and laughed like a bronze bell at that. “Becky? Little you know of her. She’s more likely to be entertaining half a dozen new beaux, now that I’m riding with Stuart.”
“Oops. My mistake, then.”
“On the contrary, Miss Mary. The mistake was all mine, trusting that her good breeding meant that she would be of high moral character, rather than being the harpy she most plainly was.” He made a sour face. “Let my life be a warning to you. Choose your own mate. Don’t let your mother have a hand in it.”
Aha. A motive I hadn’t thought of. Going to war to escape the love of your life. No wonder Tyrell seemed so carefree. He was less miserable being shot at than he’d been in the arms of Miss Becky.
“Words to live by, Cap’n,” I smiled, giving Romulus a look. He knew how likely that was to happen. My stubbornness came direct from my ma, both by blood and by example. It’d never occur to her to try to stuff a husband down my throat.
That is, if I ever see her again. And if I ever begin to age past twelve. This save-the-world quest has barely gotten started.
“Don’t start with the self-pity and the poutin’,” Jasper sighed.
I looked around in a panicked way, but Tyrell didn’t react. Jasper’s voice in my head always sounded like a clear voice right be
side me. Every time I heard him it amazed me that no one else could. “Easy for you to say, Mr. All-Powerful Sword of Destiny.”
“Ah, about that. Since you still haven’t bothered to check the ground rules, I thought I’d take it upon myself to warn you that at midnight tomorrow—that would be about 30 hours from now--my initial charge of magick will be gone.”
My eyebrows shot up. What?! “Gone?” I yelled in my thoughts. “Gone? As in…gone?”
“Gone as in ‘exhausted, emptied, spent, finished, used up, depleted.’ Gone as in ‘maybe it’s in my other purse. Gone as in ‘with the wind.’”
“This is a fine how-do-you-do! What good is bein’ the Stone Warden then? I’m supposed to be savin’ the world with a Morphageus that don’t work?”
“Who said I won’t work? You’ll still have me for immediate self-defense. That power draws from you and the Stone bein’ together.”
“That’s a relief. Wouldn’t want to try to fight Venoma again with just a tin cup.”
“Oh, I think you could still…handle…her. Fill her to the brim with your vengeance. Drown her with your righteous fury.”
“Ha, ha. You’re such a drip.”
“But any shape-shiftin’ or other exotic magicks will have to be paid for in advance.”
“What on earth does that mean? You openin’ a bank account? I have to bribe you to help me?”
“Somethin’ like that. I’ll let you read the ground rules tonight.”
“Lovely. They ain’t gonna be in Roman or Greco or Pomeranian, are they?”
“They are, now that you mention it, but I’ll translate ‘em for free.”
“Thank you kindly. If I decide to use the cup as a spittoon, will you take offense?”
“Not as long as you don’t take it personal if I turn into a seven-foot steel scorpion right after that.”
“Oh, okay then. Tonight it is.”
At that moment Alcibiades stopped moving. We’d arrived at the farmhouse where we planned to spend the night. Now I saw the war up close. The walls were bullet-pocked.
Brimstone and Lily (Legacy Stone Adventures) Page 14