The young woman was puzzled. “What may I do for you, Major Hays?”
“I just want to tell you something, Miss Campbell,” Hays said. “Do you see Lieutenant Tim Stephans standing over there in front of that company of dragoons?” She turned her eyes toward Tim. “Yes, of course.”
“Take a good look at him, Miss Campbell,” Hays said. “Because no matter how long you live or how many suitors you have, none of them will ever love or cherish you as much as he does. I want you to realize that.” Loralie lowered her gaze to the ground. “I imagine you know of his proposal of marriage to me.”
“Of course I do,” Hays said. “Your refusal broke his heart.”
“I cannot marry him, Major Hays, out of consideration and the love I have for him,” Loralie said, close to weeping. “After being with the Indians, I am not—”
“Tim knows, and in his heart, you are pure and worthy,” Hays said. “Which is exactly what you are. Why don’t you give that some thought?”
The major abruptly left her and walked toward the wagon, shouting, “Isn’t there a riverboat to catch? Let’s get this show on the road!”
Epilogue
Five years following the retirement of Major Darcy Lafayette Hays from the dragoons, the United States was poised on the brink of a civil war and the fifty-five-year-old ex-soldier’s rheumatism was worse than ever. On cold, damp, or rainy winter days, he could hardly walk.
But Hays didn’t care.
The family he had once lost had been replaced by that of his nephew Francis and his wife. The couple were openly affectionate to their old uncle, and their children adored him. On the many occasions that the little girl Belinda climbed up in his lap, the warmth of her affection made the pain in his knees and hips seem to melt away for a few short but wonderful moments.
When Hays first arrived back at his old home, suppressed memories and forgotten incidents swept over him in such a rush of recollections that he was emotionally floored. Several times, whether walking the grounds, going up the stairs, or visiting some former favorite spot on the plantation, he would nearly gasp with deep feelings as some particular moment or person swept into his mind.
The one place he avoided, however, was the spot between the Hays property and that of the Davenports. That was where he and Chandra used to meet. But one day, a year after his return, he forced himself to walk up there. He wasn’t able to stay long before making a hasty retreat back to less painful areas of his old home.
Finally he forced himself not only to return, but to stay there and stroll about the area. He gazed through the pines and could see the Davenport mansion. At first, the distant glimpse of the other family’s home was unbearable as he remembered that Chandra used to live there and walk on those same grounds. He could even see the window where he’d propped up the ladder on the night they eloped.
After an hour, Hays turned and walked back to his own house.
Her father, quite elderly, was still bitter, and Hays saw no reason to needlessly stir up hard feelings or unhappy memories by visiting there. He wondered if the portrait of Chandra as a young girl still hung in the family’s parlor. He knew he would have to wait for old Mister Davenport to die before he would ever find out, or be able to gaze on her likeness again. The knowledge that he might once again see it gave him a great deal of satisfaction.
Finally, emotionally under control and content, Darcy Hays settled into the comfortable life of a retired southern gentleman. Occasionally, he went into the town of Fayetteville to visit old friends, have a few drinks, and play cards. Once he entertained out-of-town guests, and the local newspaper wrote an article about the event.
The journal told of how Mister and Mrs. Timothy Stephans had come to pay a visit to Major Hays while on their way to live in Mister Stephan’s home in Atlanta, Georgia. The article went on to tell how Stephans, who had served in the dragoons with the major, had recently resigned his commission in the Army to return to the South. The story concluded by remarking that, during a party at the Hays’s plantation, Mrs. Stephans had shown herself to be a most charming and beautiful lady. Major Darcy Hays agreed wholeheartedly with the gallant assessment of the lady’s charms.
Loralie Campbell Stephans was almost as beautiful as Chandra.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Patrick Andrews was born in Oklahoma in 1936 into a family of pioneers who participated in its growth from the Indian Territory and Oklahoma Territory to statehood. His father’s family were homesteaders and his mother's cattle ranchers. Consequently, he is among the last generation of American writers who had contacts with those people from the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Patrick’s wife Julie says he both speaks and writes with an Oklahoma accent.
He is an ex-paratrooper, having served in the 82nd Airborne Division in the active army and the 12th Special Forces Group in the army reserves. Patrick began his writing career after leaving the army. He and his better half presently reside in southern California. He has a son Bill, who is an ex-paratrooper and a probation officer, and two grandchildren.
Among his many books, Piccadilly Publishing is pleased to be reissuing ebook editions as mini-series and stand alones, including: The Long-Knives, The Dragoons, Texas Trails, Indian Territory.
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