Sundown (18 page)

Crickets chirped in unison to the sway of a soft early morning breeze filled with the scent of sweet magnolia and earthy fodder.  Every now and then, the moon peeped through broken clouds, illuminating a portion of a wooded pathway. 

Three men road in wary silence, one man in particular, hiding behind a battered hat shifted cagey eyes, peering into the secluded darkness.  If the tail end of dusk could talk, it would reveal that before the war, the surreptitious man had once lived a privileged life of a cultured man, yet the bitterness of a brutal war had inevitably changed him.  The battle-worn soldier exuded solidity, and mov
ed with an effortless skill, which
marked him as an expert cavalryman. 

Now, as he crossed into familiar territory, memories beckoned to him like an inviting hearth on a cold winter’s morning.  He imagined the scent of tobacco, drying on racks in the afternoon sun, or a hint of gardenia wafting into a candle-lit ballroom, while listening to the soft lilt of a feminine voice whispering seductively in his ear. 

The sudden thought of her voice triggered an emotion he could not deny.  Tiny shards of unfettered verve prickled at the back of his nape when he thought of his beautiful fiancée, Julia.  She being the one and only reason he wore a damnable rebel uniform.  Even now, after four long years he still risked his life to get back to her.

The war had cost him nearly everything. 

He wanted to laugh, quite tactlessly, at his derelict predicament.  His mother, God rest her soul, passed away after his father snuck off to join the war and met his demise at the Little Round Top in Gettysburg.  Without a proper overseer to work the plantation, the family fortune lay rotting in ruin.  H
is only remaining hope was
his beloved
Julia waited
for his return.

Soon, he would know. 

Down a steep ravine gushed a babbling creek he knew all too well.  Another five hundred yards and he and his brothers would crest a hill opening to a wide expanse of barren tobacco fields.  Past those fields was the looming remnant of a time long since gone, a white pillared mansion sheltered by a row of monolith oak trees, and a blanket of hanging moss.

Then he sensed it. 

Something was wrong, all wrong. 

Upon the rise, a large black plume of smoke spiraled into the air, and then a few shots rang out, echoing from the distance.  He thought it strange.  Throughout the war, he had never experienced a single hair prickle the back of his neck until now.  The sudden fear, which struck a chord within him, was beyond anything he had ever felt before.  He knew the enemy had been tailing his party but he never thought they would counter an ambush upon his home. 

When they reached the oak tree drive, he could see the flames rising above the mansion.  Then another shot rang out, followed by a terrified scream.  He knew the voice, though it had been quite some time, he could not forget.

Through the heavy smoke and marauding chaos, there on the Bowling Green, overgrown with weeds was his beautiful Julia, lying in a grotesque heap.  He dismounted, amid random fire and rushed to her side.  His sixth sense told him she was already gone, but he longed to hold her once again.  Even in death, she was still as beautiful as the day he had left her.

“Figured the little woman would lure you in.”

When he looked up, a pair of placated eyes stared at him without a hint of remorse within.  The Yankee officer smiled, cool and
cunning as he pulled out a pistol and aimed the firearm at his face.

Just then, a shot rang out and a bullet whizzed by nearly grazing the officer’s face.  He watched the soldier rear back, diving from another round of fire he rolled away before taking cover. 

It was then he felt a sudden searing pain, like fire spreading in the pit of stomach, the intensity brought him to his knees, weakness took hold and then blackness ensued …

Luke awoke, seeping with perspiration.  The dream always ended the same way, he in an obscure void.  Of course, he knew the rest of the story.  With a steady breath, he shook off the nightmare, rose from his bedroll and drew himself near the warmth of a dying fire.  Crouching on his hind legs, he stoked the embers, and then warmed his hands before checking in on his brothers.  The sound of Jake snoring while Trig murmured in his sleep, alerted him to the fact all seemed well save for himself.

Already the first rays of morning filtered the starry-lit skies.  In a few hours, he and his brothers would exact their plan to hold up the latest stage due to arrive in Adder Creek Station at noon.  If all went as planned, he would wreak his vengeance for the last time. 

Yes, he told himself quite confidently, for the last time.

When it was all over, he could go back home and woo Arabella the proper way.  He would ask for her hand and give her exactly what she wanted. 

Only there was one problem. 

She wanted Luke Shelton, and not Bray Hanly.  He shook his head over his predicament.  The deception was necessary, but how would she react when she found out the truth? 

If she loved him, she would forgive him. 

He wanted to laugh at himself for thinking it simple. 

Then another thought came to him.  Perhaps she was in love with Bray Hanly instead.  Luke felt his jaw clench.  Jealousy over women was not something he was familiar with, especially when it pertained to competing with himself.  Closing his eyes, he thought back to the day in the barn when he stole a kiss.  He had not missed the bewildered pleasure in her eyes or the fire in her voice when she slapped his face.  Though he was satisfied she remained true to her lover, she had no idea her resentful feelings for Bray Hanly only stemmed from her own confusion.

“You change your mind?”

Luke pulled away from his musing when he heard the sudden concern in his brother’s voice.  Jake had caught him unaware.  He always did.

“Nope.”  Luke reached for a nearby tin, and poured himself a cup of tar black coffee.  Taking a swig, he clenched his teeth as he swilled the bitter
blend.  “Nothing has changed since you laid down that pretty head you’ve got there.”

Jake ignored the sarcastic reply. 

“Do you think he’ll take the bait?”
             
“We shall see.”   Luke gave his brother a narrowed flickering glance.  Not much for talk, he stood to his feet and circled the fire.  Pausing in front of Trig, he stuck out his boot heel, and then gave his youngest brother a quick nudge.  From beneath his covering and swift as a snake, the wide-eyed kid whipped out his pistol and pointed with deadly aim. 

“One of these days that tricky hand you’ve got there is gonna end up killing someone.”  Luke grated his mouth set with annoyance.  “Get up.”

Trig slowly lowered his gun as well as the terminal look, which pierced his haunted eyes.  Luke turned away not wanting his brother to see the worry on his face.  He knew the kid still carried his torment.  How could he not being the sole survivor of a bloody massacre?  It had been his fault.  If it had not been for him, Trig would have never had to suffer the death and destruction he witnessed that long ago morning.  The memory burned in him as if just yesterday.  It would not let him rest, nor would it allow peace within his life, he knew at least until he could avenge his loved ones.

“We’d best get a move on.”

It only took a few moments to break down camp, pack the horses, and mount up.  With the sun already breaking the horizon, and the rays of morning touching his face, Luke felt its inviting warmth.  He suddenly felt tired, older than his years, and the very notion frightened the Hell out of him.  From deep within an unsettling, almost foreboding feeling, this nagged at his conscience made his heart give way.  Closing his eyes, he uttered a silent prayer, thinking of Arabella.

This is t
he last time, I promise you
…

“Adder Creek Station.”

“You better be right.”  Wade Coffee rumbled at the Parson with chary-eyed suspicion.

“They’ll be there.”  Jude returned, frowning at the sheriff’s deputy.  Mounting his saddle, he turned and waited for the Sheriff to finish packing his shotgun and saddlebags before replying.  “I have good word on it.”

Wyeth heard the Parson’s reply, but refrained from comment as he tied the leather bags, cinched up the harness, and then mounted his horse.  He gave a quick glance back at his party and then nodded his head.  “Time is wasting.”

Arabella took a step forward, skirting the corner of the house, she watched as her father and his posse rode off with the Parson, spewing dust in their wake.  Not wanting to waste time, she set herself in motion and headed toward the barn to get her mount.  The last thing she wanted was to fall behind, and lose track of their
outfit. 

With a knapsack in hand, she rushed inside the barn and opened a stall, coxing one of her father’s mares from its berth.  Reaching for a riding blanket, she covered the mare’s girth and then hefted a cumbersome saddle over the horse’s back end, and carefully girded the straps.  Once secure, she hoisted herself into the saddle and then gave the animal a soft nudge.

She risked everything.  Even her reputation, but more importantly, it was simply a matter of life and death.  Luke was in danger, and she could not shake the impending doom she felt.

For nearly an hour, she tailed her father and the Parson, falling back far enough so they would not detect her.  As the riders disappeared over a distant rise, she picked up her pace, ascending the hill with full force. 

She had little idea on the other side of the rise, riders waited patiently, taking cover behind a tree line.  When she cleared the
slope, one rider swooped down upon her, taking her by surprise.  Dropping her chin, she held on for dear life as the skittish mare reared back, kicking legs into the air as a strange man grabbed hold of her mount’s reigns. 

Arabella gripped the pommel of her saddle, trying to control her fear, she caught herself looking over her shoulder uneasily as group of ominous riders surrounded her.  With a feeling of dread, she realized his salient smile, cunning and smug with attainment challenged her with knowing derision when he said. 

“Perfect timing
.”