King's Fancy Read online

  “I hope you’re not planning on having company in that bed, Wright. If so, they won’t stay there very long.” Gentry Nelson reached over and snatched the tossed pine cone out of the air, from right in front of Jericho’s face.

  “The one in the bushes isn’t the only polecat around these parts,” Jericho muttered as he jumped on Gentry back, placing him in a chokehold. “You take back what you just said, you lily-livered Englishman.” Gentry bent low and reached back to grasp big Jericho’s shoulder, applying just enough pressure in just the right place to cause him to let go and fall to the side, laughing and gasping. “You and your fancy-ass Oriental moves.”

  “Kung-Fu, you cretin, and I only pointed out the obvious, Mr. Wright. You do snore when you sleep, you sound like a crosscut saw grinding through granite.”

  He proceeded to demonstrate the racket, causing Boone to cover his ears and nod his agreement. “Gentry’s right Jericho, I don’t see how you’re ever going to find a woman willing to share your bed. They’ll be running for the hills before your wedding night’s over, hunting a quiet cave to escape the racket.”

  “His snoring won’t be the only thing she’s trying to escape.” Gentry’s shoulder’s shook as he laughed aloud. “Have you seen his prick?”

  This time Jericho didn’t take offense, he dusted off his hat and grinned. “Now, you’re just jealous.”

  All the men joined in the laughter, glad to share in the lighthearted banter. For too long, they’d existed under a cloud of bleak melancholia, all were eager for things to get back to normal between them.

  King kept a protective eye on Jericho as they moved on down the trail. He’d been watching over him his entire life. Most didn’t know it, and you couldn’t tell by looking, but Jericho was a mulatto. His mother was Mattie, the mammy who’d raised King from a baby. No one ever said who sired him, but King was highly suspicious that he and the young man shared a father. Only Mattie knew for sure, and he didn’t know if she’d ever confided the truth to her son or anyone else, for that matter.

  Ironically, on the battlefield, Jericho had protected him, pushing King to the ground when one of their own, Jubal Pierce, put a bead on him. Jubal escaped to live another day, but so did King. None of the Cumberland Guard knew why someone they considered a friend had become a turncoat for the enemy.

  “Jealous?” Gentry scoffed. “Me? I’ll have you know I’ve pleasured some of the most beautiful courtesans and paramours in Europe.”

  “I don’t know what those big words mean, Gentry,” Jericho muttered as he sauntered, shading his eyes against the afternoon sun, “but if you pleasured some woman, it wasn’t with that grub worm between your legs.”

  “I’ll have you know my masculine appendage is above average in length and quite adequate for my needs.”

  King shook his head, amused at the differences between the two men who were such fast friends. They shared a bond of trust that rose above wealth, status, or rank. Gentry might be English nobility and his home a castle on a faraway heath, but his heart had always belonged to the American West. From the time he was a schoolboy, learning how to brandish a sword, his aim was to come to America and be a cowboy. Much to the Duke and Duchess’s dismay, Gentry made his dream come true. Unfortunately, he hadn’t made it west, yet. Like the rest of them, he’d gotten caught up in the web of war.

  King, for one, was glad he did. He’d never fought by so brave a man.

  Gonna lay down my sword and shield,

  down by the river side, down by the river side

  Gonna lay down my sword and shield, down by the river side,

  ain’t gonna study war no more.

  Jericho kept singing and the soldiers kept marching.

  Serving as the rear guard was Clay Bennett and Reno Black, each pretending they couldn’t see one another as they marched along. Even though they’d been neighbors before the war and fought alongside one another, they hadn’t been able to agree on the outcome. Reno had lost a brother who’d fought for the north and his allegiance was divided, more out of worry and remorse than a strong opinion on any issue.

  “Hey, Reno, what’s the first thing you gonna do when you get home?” Jericho asked, having finished his song. He sidled up next to Clay, hoping to be a buffer between the once best friends.

  Reno’s face broke out in a smile and he pushed his hat back over his dark hair. “Well, I’m gonna hunt me a willing woman. A clean one. Those camp whores weren’t to my taste. After I met that poor wretch who was ate up with syphilis, I decided my right hand was all the companionship I needed.”

  “Lord, ain’t that the truth,” Clay spoke up, then kicked a clod of dirt ahead of him, realizing he’d sided with his opposition.

  “We can’t all be as lucky as King, he’ll be married in a few days. Miss Caroline is certainly a fine woman.” Jericho stepped up and patted Kingston on the shoulder. “I sure hope we’re all invited to the wedding.”

  “You will be. I know Caroline is anxious to wed and so am I. You’re all welcome to stay at Magnolia Hall for a couple of days. I sent Father a telegram telling him we’re on our way home. I’m sure he and my brother, Winfield, are already planning a celebration. Mattie can throw a party together in no time, soon you’ll be waltzing with the prettiest bells in Dixie.” Kingston gazed off into the distance. “We should be there by nightfall.” The promise of a party wasn’t the only reason he wanted his men to linger and rest a day or two. He’d heard rumors of the war’s devastation on their familiar soil and he wanted to make sure he was with them if they didn’t find things at home to be the way they were expecting.

  “Do you think Mattie will still be there?” Moving up to walk in step with King was their court jester, Domino O’Neill, a Black Irishman. Of all the jobs in the war, Domino had the worst as far as King was concerned, for he was the division’s surgeon. He often thought the man joked so much to hide the horror of the day-to-day task of hacking off limbs and giving dying soldiers false hope. Despite his usual positive demeanor, Domino frowned at his commanding officer. “I know she raised you, King, but the North won the war.”

  Kingston considered the thought for a moment, then dismissed it. “Mattie wouldn’t leave, we’ve always treated her like family. She runs the whole household, nobody tells Mattie no about anything.”

  “I hope you’re right, I’m just grateful that feller from Appomattox showed up when he did, or we woulda continued to rip through them Yanks like Jericho tears through a pone of cornbread.” Domino clapped Jericho on the shoulder when his friend gave him the stink eye. “Don’t worry, you lost most of your gut marching across Virginia.”

  “I don’t have a gut,” Jericho grumbled as he patted his mostly flat belly.

  The hot August sun burned down on his men as they bickered and bantered. King just let them talk. He knew they were anxious for this nightmarish time to be over. They all ached to remove the scratchy uniforms they wore and replace the hot garments with regular clothes and shoes. It wouldn’t be long now. They’d just passed Gatlinburg and were heading west. The path they walked was already looking more and more familiar. Towering mountains, rich verdant valleys, and roaring streams. King closed his eyes, imagining what it would be like to be home again.

  “Look, King, up ahead,” Boone said, pointing. He did so and saw a man resting against a tree alongside the road.

  “Ho there, soldier! Heading toward Knoxville?” Reno called out. “Do you want to walk with us?”

  The man didn’t answer. The group slowed to a stop and King approached him. His grey confederate coat was wet and red at the right sleeve where it had been cut when the arm was amputated. His head was reclined against the bark, eyes closed, his left hand clasping the sleeve where his right forearm used to be. King imagined it would take a while to get used to a change so drastic.

  “Mister?” King spoke, but no answer came. Kneeling next to him, he could see there was no color in his cheeks, nor any heave in his chest. Just to be certain, he pushed gently a
bove his stomach but felt no movement of the diaphragm.

  “Careful, I’m sure the fever made its way down here too,” Domino implored his captain.

  “Yeah, I know.” King stood up and wiped his hands on his pants. “I needed to be sure.”

  The boys stood silently for a moment, taking in the sight.

  “I wonder if he was almost home,” Jericho muttered aloud.

  “No telling,” Boone answered. “Looks like he won’t ever make it either.”

  Kingston searched inside the jacket of their fallen comrade to find a scrap of paper pinned at the breast with the name ‘John Lucas’ written on it. “He probably couldn’t afford the sutler tag,” King remarked about the makeshift identification soldiers with enough coin could purchase from itinerant merchants on the battlefields, as he replaced the piece of paper where he found it. “When we get to Magnolia Hall, I’ll send someone back for him. If no one knows his people, we’ll have him buried in the local cemetery.”

  The men stood around the body for a few moments, each feeling grief for one who was so close, yet so far from where he surely wanted to be. “Clay, why don’t you say something?” King requested. “You’re the nearest to a man of the cloth that we have.”

  Clay, who’d served as Chaplain for their unit, pulled out his pocket Bible to read a few scriptures. When he was through reciting a familiar Psalm, he bowed his head. “We’re sorry you didn’t make it home, friend. But we thank you for your service and we pray you’re reunited with loved ones gone on before.”

  King put his hand on Clay’s shoulders, acknowledging the choke in his voice. “That was nice, he would’ve appreciated the kind words.” After covering John Lucas’s head with his own coat, he urged his men to continue their journey. “Not long now, just another mile or two.”

  …The closer they drew to Magnolia Hall; the more excited King became. “Just think,” he told his men, “this time tomorrow, we’ll be able to pick up our lives where we left off.”

  “I hope so,” Boone nodded. “I’ve heard rumors the area was hit hard by marauders.”

  King understood what his lieutenant was saying. Not only had Tennessee been the site of thirty-eight major battles, plus three thousand other skirmishes and raids, it had also fallen victim to renegades from both sides, taking what they wanted from farms and villages, and burning what was left. They’d seen evidence of this along the way, but none wanted to think they’d be personally affected. “Yea, me too. Let’s pray things are as we remember them to be.”

  As the sun began to go down in the west, the rag-tag group of men traversed the last mile of the way. “Listen, King, I hear music,” Boone murmured. “Do you think they started the party without us?”

  King smiled. “I’d say we’ve made it just in time.” He couldn’t help but strike up a trot. They’d sold their horses early on to have money to buy food along the way. Even though he was weary from weeks of walking, the thought of seeing Caroline and his family again gave him new strength. With shouts and laughter, his men followed suit. They darted among the trees until they could see the lights of Magnolia House. “My home is still standing, boys. I take that as a damn good sign.” The closer King came, the lighter his heart grew. Now, he could hear happy voices along with the strains of a dance number.

  “I wonder how they knew we’d get here today?” Reno asked with elation. “I wonder if they’re watching for us?”

  King wouldn’t say. His hopes were as high as the clouds.

  “I call first on a bath,” Jericho yelled. He knew right where the old clawfoot tub was located, he’d filled it for King’s mother many a time.

  “Make yourself at home.” King laughed. “Every man for himself. All I want to do is find Caroline. She’s here, she has to be here.” He ran the last few steps, coming close enough to see the guests were all dressed in finery. A group of them were standing on the verandah applauding. For a split second, he thought they were out there to welcome them home…but they were facing the wrong way. They were looking at the double French doors leading from the ball room. King slowed down as the doors opened, his six companions surrounding him. They stood, breathless, the smiles on their faces as big as the smile on King’s.

  “Hail to the bride and groom!” Several people chanted in unison.

  “Bride and groom?” Boone asked. “This is a wedding!”

  King stared at the happy couple as they appeared in the doorway. The lights of countless candles and lanterns lit up their smiling faces. As his brain processed the unbelievable image in front of his eyes, his heart sank.

  “Do you know them, King?” Domino asked.

  “Yea, I know them,” King admitted with a bitter taste in his mouth. “Too well.”

  “Who are they?” This question came from Reno.

  King faced his men, turning his back on Magnolia House and its happy partygoers. “The groom is my brother, and his bride is Caroline, my fiancée.”

  * * *

  “You hold still and let me doctor your hand, Kingston. Your knuckles are plum raw.” Mattie fussed over King the way she’d done when he was a baby. “Jericho, hand me that salve.”

  Jericho gave his mother the jar with one hand while holding a biscuit stuffed with ham with the other. “I can’t believe you broke Winfield’s jaw.”

  “He deserved it,” Clay interjected. “I don’t believe in hitting women, but Miss Caroline isn’t blameless in this affair.”

  “Clay…” Reno said, his voice taking on a warning tone. “King doesn’t want to hear all this.”

  “No, it’s fine.” King stared around the table at his men. At least they were comfortable and clean. Their bellies were full. “He’s right. My brother and my fiancée betrayed me. Even my father was complicit, he allowed Winfield to court the woman promised to me.” Once Mattie was finished, he stood and stared out the window onto the grounds of Magnolia Hall. “I don’t want to stay here. This isn’t my home any longer.”

  “At least you…” Boone started, then stopped, clearing his throat before continuing, “have a home. Some of us weren’t so lucky.”

  King felt contrite. “You’re right.” He surveyed his men. “What we’ve lost isn’t comparable. I’m lucky.” Seeing Domino start to protest, he held up his hand. “No, I am. I’ve always known my brother is an ass, but now I know how fickle a woman’s love can be. You,” he pointed to Boone, “lost everything.”

  Once the initial excitement of King’s confrontation with the newlywed couple was over, the wedding guests had embraced the soldiers’ homecoming and welcomed them with open arms. During the reunion, some had learned sad news as tales of death and destruction were relayed. Boone learned his small farm had been gutted when Champ Ferguson and his raiders came through.

  Mattie crossed her arms over her ample breast. “I say this is your home, Mister King. I wouldn’t let Win and that woman run you off it. Your daddy is getting up in years. He let that younger brother of yours walk all over him. If your sweet mother was alive, she would never have let this happen. Your daddy needs you here to set things right.”

  King shook his head. “I can’t, Mattie. I can’t stay here and watch them every day.”

  “Well, run them off,” Gentry barked. “That’s what I say, just run the betraying traitors the hell off.”

  King had to laugh. “No, I’m not going to run them off.” He walked to the window and gazed toward the setting sun. He’d been home only twenty-four hours and he was itching to leave again. “I’m heading west. I talked with a man last night, after the fiasco. His name is Daniel Taylor and he has a brother who’s interested in selling some land right smack dab in the heart of Texas. The brother wants to move home to Tennessee; he found the frontier to be a little too untamed for his blood. Wide open spaces. Land rich enough to grow cotton or cattle. Not a cannon or a battlefield in sight. I think I’ll make him an offer.”

  “Sounds good to me, if you want some company,” Boone admitted. “I dread trying to start over here. E
verything is depressed, from the economy to the people.”

  “Count me in.” Gentry slapped his hand on the table. “You know I’ve always wanted to go west.”

  “Excellent!” King whirled around, the first smile of his homecoming on his face. “I say we head out. Start over. Who else is with me? Who wants to tame the Wild West?” A cheer resounded in the room. “Tell the others. Send word to the whole company. Any of the Cumberland Guard who wants to come with us is welcome. And if anyone has anything to say about it, they can go to hell, because we’re going to Texas!”

  The war between the states had stripped them of family, friends, and property. Now, they were leaving the war behind them, turning their backs on both the north and the south. Appomattox seemed a lifetime ago and Devil’s Den just a bad dream. All the King’s men were ready to follow their fierce leader into the unknown. Different backgrounds, different strengths, different dreams for their future. Yet, they all shared one common belief - since they’d followed their Captain to hell and back, striking out on an adventure to find their fortunes out West would be a Sunday picnic.

  * * *

  Fancy

  St. Louis, Missouri - 1866

  “I’m nothing special,” Fancy protested. “Anyone would’ve done the same thing.” She pushed her singed hair from her face and folded her soot covered hands to hide the painful burns on her palms.

  “I think I could argue with that notion, considering no one ran into the fire to save those two little girls but you.” The reporter from the Missouri Democrat, whose office was on the same busy street, was clearly enjoying himself. “To what do you attribute your heroic tendencies?”

  Fancy thought the question was stupid, but she was too polite to say so. “I could hear them crying. I didn’t want the girls to burn to death.”