Her Abundant Joy

by Lyn Cote

  She didn’t want to tell him that it was because the cousin whom he had just struck had been rude to Sugar when they’d arrived at camp. She wanted to stop the duel, not make the relationship between the cousins more difficult. “It just came out when we arrive here. Then Ash said it was right I said it. That I would be better treated. Treated the way you wanted me to be.”

  Carson stood, obviously thinking this over. “Ash is right, as usual.”

  She wanted to ask him more but did not. Sometimes it was better to let matters rest. She walked with him toward where Ash and the rest were eating the evening meal around their cook fire. Everything within her cried out for his touch, but he did not take her hand. And it was her fault. Her unusual and momentary boldness had led her to claim a relationship she did not have with this man. Shame was her just reward for rash speech.

  The next uncomfortably hot evening near the river, Sugar stood beside Mariel, fanning herself with a woven palm fan. She and Mariel watched Remy LaCroix strut toward Carson. A slew of young officers trailed him. A duel, which normally should have taken place in private, had proved an irresistible draw.

  The other army wives had told Sugar that an army kept waiting was plagued by boredom; therefore, they should expect a large crowd to come watch the duel. Sugar didn’t think Remy could beat Carson at anything, but accidents happened. Emilio had escorted her and Mariel here, away from the main body; he’d told them to stay within the dogwood trees. After kissing Sugar’s hand, he’d left them and gone to act as Carson’s second.

  “I have never seen a duel,” Mariel murmured, sounding worried and tense.

  “Neither have I,” Sugar admitted, craning her neck to gauge the gathering crowd. Fortunately, Emilio hadn’t expected her to stay away completely, but she had to remember to remain here, away from what the other ladies had termed “the boorish crowd.”

  “Carson is good with a sword, yes?” Mariel’s voice quavered.

  “Of course,” Sugar heard herself lie. The truth was she’d rarely seen Carson with a sword in hand. Surely he wouldn’t have consented to fight a duel with swords if he didn’t do swordplay well. However, men did things that seemed foolhardy to her. She noticed a man ahead of them, collecting money from other soldiers. No doubt bets were being placed. Sugar shook her head. She’d also noticed that Carson was still keeping Mariel at arm’s length. Men could be so stupid at times.

  As Carson’s second, Emilio was standing talking to that Easterner Niven, who’d married Blanche. They shook hands, then Niven said loudly, “This is not a duel to the death. Merely a duel to settle a question of honor. The gentleman who manages to touch the point of his sword to his opponent’s chest will be deemed the winner.”

  This announcement didn’t reassure Sugar. Fighting could always spiral out of control. She worried her lower lip.

  Then Carson and Remy moved into the open area in the midst of the crowd and faced each other, their sabers upright in front of their faces.

  “En garde,” Remy said stiffly.

  Both men lowered their swords and began prowling in a circle like two cougars looking to spring. Just as Sugar was silently predicting that Carson would not make the first move, Remy thrust his blade toward Carson’s. It was easily turned aside, the blades making a scraping sound that went through her. And the contest began in earnest.

  Remy continued to be on the attack. Carson kept his guard up, not letting Remy succeed in getting past his sword. The metallic sound of blade upon blade tightened and tightened Sugar’s nerves. Soon she and Mariel were gripping each other’s hands.

  Remy’s fair face had turned red. From embarrassment or exertion—Sugar couldn’t tell which. Carson remained cool, but Sugar could tell he was giving his all to hold his own. The contest wore on. Finally, Remy appeared to lose his temper. He lunged forward and thrust his sword, trying to break through Carson’s unwavering guard.

  Carson caught Remy’s sword in midthrust and parried, making a circle with his wrist. This threw Remy off balance, and Carson managed to force the saber from Remy’s hand. It all happened so fast. It was over before Sugar could gasp.

  Remy stared at his sword on the ground. Blanche’s husband said, “LaCroix, your opponent has disarmed you—”

  Before the man finished, Remy lunged at Carson’s throat. Carson tossed down his sword. He leaped backward, out of reach. Remy stumbled, caught himself, and swung a fist.

  Carson dodged him and maneuvered out of Remy’s reach. This pattern—Remy attacking, Carson eluding him—went on for several moments. Finally, Niven said, “Finish it, Quinn.”

  What did that mean? Sugar pressed a hand over her mouth.

  Carson nodded and launched a flurry of blows.

  Remy staggered and fell to one knee.

  “Do you concede?” Carson asked.

  “Never.”

  Shaking his head, Carson lowered his fists and turned. He made a sound of disgust.

  Remy sprang up and hit Carson from behind.

  Sugar shrieked.

  A gasp sounded—an overwhelming one—as if every man watching had gasped as one person. And then there was shocked silence.

  Fourteen

  Carson felt the blow. But he didn’t quite believe it. Had it happened? To hit a man from behind—there was no more dishonorable behavior in the eyes of a gentleman than this. Prickling all over with icy shock, Carson turned back. He stared at his cousin. Remy’s horrified expression confirmed that he indeed knew he was guilty of extremely disgraceful behavior, the kind that could brand a man for life.

  Carson tried not to feel sorry for the boy who appeared to grasp the fact that he had just dishonored himself. And he had done it in front of everyone whose esteem he wanted most. Remy was breathing fast and shallow; his face was drawn, his eyes were wide with shock.

  As darkness drew down over them, Carson tried to think of a way to save Remy’s face. There wasn’t any way. Perhaps honesty would be best. “Remy, you don’t like me. I don’t like you. I hate slavery; you own slaves. Our mothers are half sisters, and that ties us by blood. Nothing will ever change that. But you’re not just my kid cousin from east Texas anymore. You’re an officer in the U.S. Army. It’s time to put away childish things.”

  Remy looked as if he would have liked to retort. And though his mouth moved, no words came out.

  Carson shook his head. “I hope you have learned from this. And won’t repeat it anytime soon.” Then Carson glimpsed his sister and Mariel standing in the nearby knot of trees. After returning Niven’s sword to him, he walked toward his family and didn’t look back. The silence followed him.

  Then, from the corner of his eye, he watched as bystanders began melting away into the darkness. Niven was standing near Remy, talking to him, looking earnest. Carson would leave it to Niven to try to soothe Remy’s anger and humiliation. That’s not my job.

  When Carson reached Mariel, he took her small hand and drew her away with him. He didn’t want her here, but he was glad she was. Seeing her thawed his tension even as it vexed him. Emilio had followed, leading Sugar, and the four of them left the scene of dishonor. They all went back to the fire near Ash and Amos’s wagons. Carson’s muscles were warm from the sword fight. He took off his black coat and hung it on the end of one wagon.

  The ugly expression on his cousin’s face tonight broke through Carson’s bemusement, muting it. Carson had never wanted this fight he’d been forced into. He had won; and his cousin had disgraced himself. That might bear fruit. Nasty, poisonous fruit.

  Suddenly sensitive to Mariel’s sweet presence, he drew her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. He could think of no other way to express his gladness that she was here. She looked surprised but said nothing. He recalled how brusque he’d been with her yesterday. Still, he couldn’t bring up any words. He was a dry well. What could he say now—with the war and Remy hanging over them? He would have to make certain that Remy didn’t try to hurt him through Mariel.

  He’d already made very sure
that soon every man in the U.S. Army would have heard by word of mouth that Mariel belonged to him alone. And tonight’s duel should add to the protection he’d tried to put around Sugar and Mariel. Now he just had to stay alive to take her home with him. He couldn’t say that to this woman, couldn’t speak of the specter of dying. So he said nothing, just accepted a hot cup of coffee from Reva by the fire. And started reminiscing about the childhood days spent with Antonio.

  The next morning dawned too early for Sugar. After the awful duel, her brother had spent the night near his family. Now they were all making sure that nothing belonging to the two families about to leave them would be left behind. At the same time, she knew that everyone was trying not to show how much Ash and Reva’s departure saddened them.

  Sugar clung to her husband’s broad hand, pressing into it all the sadness that buffeted her in waves. For as long as Sugar could recall, Reva had always been there just like the dawn every morning. This is best for them, for Antonio. I will see them again, she said to herself, yet deep down she knew that life was uncertain and she might never again see these two beloved friends this side of the Jordan.

  Finally the voices trailed off as no one could think of another item to pack. Ash offered his hand to Emilio and then Carson. Reva kissed them each, saying nothing. Her sorrow at parting was expressed in her forced smiles and teary eyes. Just as Ash turned to help Reva onto the buckboard, a familiar voice hailed them through the morning mist. “Hey! You there, stop!”

  Sugar could not believe her eyes. Remy LaCroix was striding toward them with several armed infantrymen behind him. Shock radiated up her spine.

  “You, people! Halt!” Remy shouted.

  Sugar tightened her mouth. What was Remy doing here? Had her cousin lost his mind?

  Carson stepped forward and growled, “What do you want?”

  Remy did not look at Carson. “My slave is missing. I just heard that your people were leaving. I’m sure that my man is hiding in one of their wagons, running away. I’m going to search their wagons for him.” Remy pushed forward.

  Sugar watched as Carson and Emilio’s hands suddenly and almost magically held Colts aimed toward the infantrymen. She blinked and then demanded, “Wasn’t last night enough for you, Remy LaCroix?” When she heard her thoughts aloud, she surprised herself. Her voice shook. All this morning she had dammed up tears of loss, refusing to shed them. Now she found she could not hold back anything else.

  LaCroix ignored her and moved to Ash and Reva’s wagon.

  Carson’s cold, tight voice halted him. “Ash, what do you want to do? Shall I start shooting?”

  From the corner of her eye, Sugar noted that the infantrymen, who were clutching their rifles, were staring in horror at the Colts aimed at them. Sugar had heard the other army wives parroting what was being said of the Rangers in camp. The regular army thought of them as they would a wild cougar, dangerous and deadly. Would they think themselves in danger? Would they try to shoot first?

  Remy turned to look at the men with him. It was obvious from his sudden flush that he had not anticipated Carson’s being here and ready to fight. No doubt he’d thought that Ash, Amos, and Emilio wouldn’t be hard to overpower. How stupid. Sugar shook her head.

  “Oh, go ahead,” Ash drawled, “and let the boy have his way. His man isn’t in our wagons.”

  Remy was foolish enough to try to backhand Ash. Ash knocked Remy to the dusty ground. When he tried to come up, Ash pushed him back down, planting his boot hard on Remy’s chest. “You are your grandpa all over. Anybody ever tell you that?”

  Remy lifted his shoulders, trying to get up, but he stopped. Grinning, Ash wouldn’t remove his boot from his chest. No doubt realizing how foolish he would look, Remy refused to struggle. He stared into the distance. Ash folded his arms, chuckling softly.

  Why would Remy put himself through this humiliation? Sugar had overheard her parents discuss Remy’s grandfather, and this foolish behavior matched his, just as Ash had said. Just like his grandpa.

  One of the infantrymen cleared his throat. “What should we do, sir?”

  “I’m glad you asked me,” Ash said, grinning wider with ironic humor. “Why don’t you come over here and lift the canvas on both wagons and find out if a man is hiding in them?”

  Again, Remy tried to get up, but Ash’s foot was planted on his chest. All Ash had to do was step down hard and Remy’s ribs would snap.

  The infantryman who’d spoken before moved forward, giving Ash a wide berth. He used his rifle barrel to raise the canvas a few inches on both wagons.

  “What did you find, young man?” Ash asked.

  “No one is hiding in the wagons,…sir.”

  “Thank you. You’re a mighty polite soldier. Your mama taught you right. You might live a bit longer than Kilbride’s grandson.”

  The infantryman hesitated.

  “Don’t worry, young man.” Reva patted the soldier’s sleeve. “My husband isn’t going to kill anybody this morning.”

  “Honey, that sweet streak of yours always spoils my fun,” Ash winked. Then he removed his boot from Remy’s chest. “Get,” he snapped. “Now.”

  Remy got up and dusted himself off, looking ridiculous. “I know you have lured my servant away from me.”

  “You know that, do you?” Ash scratched his chin.

  “Go away,” Sugar said, her face warm. “We’re tired of you embarrassing yourself and us. I’m ashamed to admit that you’re blood kin. Go.”

  “Vaya,” Emilio added.

  His ears bright red, Remy stalked away, the infantrymen trailing after him, hiding grins.

  Ash shook his head. “We needed a good laugh this morning.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Because the fact is his servant cut out last night and is waiting for us ahead. I visited him last night during the big nasty duel. And found he was not happy with his situation.”

  Sugar whooped with laughter, then smothered it with her hands over her mouth. This was why she would miss Ash and Reva. They brought a lightness of spirit that was so welcome in this world of trials. She threw her arms around Reva. This wasn’t the last of her seeing Reva and Ash. “When this war is over, Emilio will bring me to see you and Antonio.”

  Reva squeezed her close, as she always did. “You bet he will, my sweet child.”

  Then Ash was helping Reva onto the wagon. He slapped the reins, and the two wagons trundled off, heading westward. Carson leaped onto the back of Ash’s wagon, obviously to protect the two families as they made their way through the thousands of surrounding U.S. troops. Emilio kissed Sugar’s cheek, then ran to his horse and swung on bareback to trail after the wagons too.

  Mariel came to Sugar’s side and put an arm around her shoulders. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, Sugar thought to herself before turning and pressing a bittersweet kiss to Mariel’s cheek, grateful for this sweet woman who would be her sister—if Carson ever got smart and proposed.

  Late in September, Carson rode between Emilio and McCulloch on the Saltillo Road, approaching the fortified city of Monterrey. After they’d spent a steamy July and August scouting for Taylor, a battle was at last to begin. The army and Rangers had left behind the coastal plain and were approaching low mountains far inland in Mexico. The troops behind them, swollen with the new volunteers to over ten thousand, were sweating under a golden sun. Ripe corn fields—amber and green—crowded up against the rising land. Impending death dominated Carson’s mind, making every sight and sound more intense.

  Just yesterday a few Rangers had neared this pass between two peaks. The fort on Monterrey’s Independence Hill battery had barked and roared as the cannon fire warned the Americans away. General Taylor had made his plan of battle, which included General Worth’s leading a diversionary attack at this pass on Saltillo Road. General Taylor had put the Rangers in the front of that attack. Would the diversion work, permitting the main body of the army to breach the city’s defenses to the north?

  Carson went through hi
s usual preparation for going into a fight. He’d slowly divested himself of everything except his purpose—to kill and not be killed. It was a narrowing, flattening feeling, as if one became as thin as a face on a paper. It was a paring down, paring down until one hit the bone of existence—survival. Would Carson Quinn still be breathing at the end of today?

  With the constant sound of marching boots behind, Carson was very aware of Emilio beside him. Sugar had embroidered a large white star on the back of Emilio’s buckskin jacket. She had tried to make it seem as if she’d only wanted to decorate her husband’s jacket, but Carson had divined that she’d really been marking him with the Texas Lone Star in hopes that he wouldn’t be killed by some less-than-discriminating U.S. soldier. Still, Carson would keep one eye out for his friend and brother-in-law.

  He suppressed the urge to glance backwards, as if he could see Sugar and Mariel, miles in the rear of the main army, over the vast expanse of blue-clad infantry and the plainly dressed state volunteers marching behind them to the drum.

  Busy with scouting and fighting, he’d had almost no time to be with Mariel and no chance to speak to her privately after the duel. I should have apologized for the way I acted when I found out she had come with Sugar. He still didn’t want to think about what could happen to two women if for some reason the U.S. forces lost. He’d seen how some warriors gave in to the worst behavior in the flush of victory. We can’t lose.

  With the army wives and the troops protecting them, Mariel walked beside Sugar. She saw that Sugar’s lips were moving, probably in silent prayer. At dawn, when they had moved out, the word had come that today the army would try to breach the defenses around Monterrey and enter the city. Mariel dabbed at the perspiration gathering at her hairline under her bonnet. She wanted to pray, but her lips, as well as her heart, were paralyzed by fear. I will lose him. He will be taken from me. I know it.

  Farther along the Saltillo Road, the Rangers rode at an easy jog in front of the infantry. With his rifle lying across his lap, Carson rode round a bend. And there was the Mexican Army. Or some of it. Carson gasped, his nerves tingling. Emilio let out a Spanish curse. The Mexicans were ranged in and around the road and in the ripe cornfields on both sides of the road. Thousands of soldiers. A blue-and-white Mexican haze among the golden fields.