King's Fancy

by Sable Hunter

  A rustle in the brush, set their feet in motion. “You go right, King. I’ll go left,” Boone said as he ran a finger over the ridge of scar tissue puckering the side of his face.

  “Will do.” If they’d had more time, King would’ve asked if the scar still pained him. He, for one, would never forget Boone receiving the wound while protecting him from a Union bayonet where he’d fallen, victim of a sniper whose aim was a little off. Because of his friend, he wasn’t buried six feet under in a Pennsylvania wheat field. “Watch your step, fellas. Let’s go.” They headed for the small grove of trees, thick with underbrush.

  The screech of a crow tore through the expectant calm, setting a whole flock to flight. Moving quickly, the men used the raucous cries of the disturbed birds as cover. King flipped the strap on his holster. He’d directed his men not to fire, but an ounce of prevention was worth a shitload of cure. As he moved stealthily along, memories of other days and other enemies caused the hair to rise on the back of King’s neck. He’d learned to expect the unexpected.

  Inching along, he glanced over his shoulder, just to make sure they were still alone. A distant muffled grunt set his feet to running, taking him into the dense undergrowth, sharp thorns ripping holes in his shirt and scraping raw marks on his skin. “Reno? Boone?”

  “We got him, Cap,” Reno hollered. “And guess what, he ain’t no Indian, he’s as white as you and Boone.”

  Feeling like the rabbit in the briar bushes that Mattie used to tell him about at bedtime, King eased back out the way he’d come in. By the time he was in the clear, Reno and Boone stood in the clearing with a scrawny kid dressed in buckskin, his blonde hair long and greasy. “Who are you and why did you steal from us?”

  “I was hungry.” His voice was thin and weak. “I’m not a good hunter, the pig was easy pickings and your cattle don’t run like the deer.”

  “Who’s with you out here?” Reno tugged upward on one arm, nearly lifting the boy off the ground. “Where are the others?”

  “I’m alone. No one’s here.” The boy shook his head, clearly ill at ease. “I just made that noise to throw you off. I escaped the Injuns, I ran away.”

  “You didn’t run far, why are you still hanging around?” Boone asked, clearly suspicious of the young man.

  “My sister is with them, we were taken a few months ago, west of San Antonio.”

  King pushed the muzzle of his gun into the boy’s ribs. Before the war, this boy’s age would’ve kept him above suspicion, but he’d gone against too many armed and dangerous juveniles. The war between the states had been a boy’s war, some of the soldiers as young as twelve. King learned the hard way that a gun would kill, no matter who pulled the trigger, and youth didn’t necessarily translate into innocence. “Why should we believe you?”

  “If you’ll give me a chance, I’ll pay you for what I stole. I just can’t leave here until I help my sister.”

  The boy was shaking and from the remains they’d found from his previous kills, he hadn’t eaten much before the wolves claimed it from him. “Fine, we’ll get you some help.” He didn’t know from where, but they’d work the details out later. The forts were almost deserted, the soldiers having been sent north to fight in the war between the states. During this horrific time, the Comanches had pushed the white settlements back almost a hundred miles. The tribes around the ranch weren’t part of the raiding parties, but Indians were Indians. “Let’s go home.”

  Reno never let go of their prisoner. “What’s your name, boy?”

  “Ace Phelps and my sister’s name is Amelia. We were kidnapped when our farm was raided a few months ago. Our folks were massacred.”

  “Damn, that’s tough. Sorry kid,” Boone said. He’d seen enough killing to last a lifetime.

  When the men mounted, Reno put Ace ahead of him in the saddle. “How did they treat you?”

  “How do you think?” Ace asked softly, his body slumping over the saddle horn. “They made me a slave, they made both of us slaves.”

  Reno and Boone exchanged looks, both knew what happened to white women in the hands of the Comanche.

  King pulled ahead of the others, his mind in turmoil. They might’ve solved one problem, but now they had a bigger one. He’d have to travel to the nearest army outpost to see if he could convince the Calvary to rescue the girl.

  “I wonder if Gentry and Domino are back yet?” Boone focused his eyes toward home. Around the riders the tall grass swayed with the gentle wind and Longhorn cattle grazed in contentment. Perhaps they sensed whatever danger threatened them was past.

  “I doubt it, the last telegram we received said it would be another two weeks before they return.” King didn’t say more, as far as the rest of the men knew, the trip was about Gentry meeting up with his parents in Boston. He didn’t want Reno to get his hopes up if the tip they’d received about his brother being alive wasn’t true.

  As they neared the homestead, King couldn’t help the spark of pride he felt at the sight. The cabins were almost completed, each man would have his own home. In the past two years, he and his men had accomplished a helluva lot. The memory of Caroline’s treachery still cut like a knife, but good had come from bad. When the last remaining members of King’s Calvary had come marching home to the hills of Tennessee, they’d discovered nothing remained unchanged. War had devastated the area. Plantations were burned to the ground, farms desecrated, whole towns had been erased from the map. His home had been destroyed also, but not by the ravages of war. After discovering Winfield and Caroline’s betrayal, he’d headed to Texas with the men who’d followed him to battle. Starting over, building a new life, became their salvation.

  “Gosh, these cabins are nice,” Ace said with wide eyes. “My family lived in a shack compared to these.”

  “They’re not fancy, but they’re well-built,” Reno explained, his eye on a cloud of dust coming down the trail in front of the ranch gate. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

  As they rode up to the corral, they were met by Clay. “I penned the stray pig.” When he noticed Reno had a passenger, he smiled with a friendly nod. “Who’s the kid?”

  “Our pig and cattle thief. We’re going to keep him here until I can make other arrangements. Put him up in the bunkhouse, Reno. Get with Jericho after breakfast and come up with some chores for him to do.”

  King handed Clay the reins to his mount. “Ace,” he addressed the former captive, who looked at him with wary eyes, “You’re welcome here, but I expect you to behave. Do what you’re told and all will be well.” Placing a hand over his empty stomach, he grimaced. “Anybody start some grub?”

  “It’s Jericho’s turn to cook.”

  At Clay’s unwelcome announcement everyone groaned. For the first year and a half, they’d been lucky to find a cook to run the kitchen. Unfortunately for them, Ling Ho’s family had come to California and he’d traveled to join them there. Since then, they’d taken turns, to no one’s satisfaction.

  “God, we’re gonna starve to death,” Boone lamented, helping Clay lead the horses to their stalls.

  King slapped his hat on his knee. “Well, someday soon, maybe one of you will marry and bring in some nice woman who’ll take care of all this for us.”

  “Women are a scarce commodity in these parts, Cap,” Reno noted as they followed the others into the dim interior of the barn.

  “I’ve heard tell there’s women who’d be willing to come west,” Boone suggested hesitantly, keeping a close eye on their Captain.

  King huffed. “Well, I can’t be bothered with that now.” He’d heard tell of the process and the whole business sounded like trouble to him. “I’ve got to ride over to Fort Mason to report Ace’s claim about his sister.”

  “Well, can we talk about it soon? We really need someone here to help out with the cooking and the cleaning…and such.” Reno said evenly, still holding onto Ace’s arm. “I don’t think we want to wait until one of us falls in love.”

  “Love?” King sc
offed. “Don’t bother. There’s no such thing, it doesn’t exist. There’s respect, there’s friendship, and there’s lust, that’s it.” When no one responded to his scathing remarks, he sighed. He knew his men had needs and it wasn’t fair to condemn them to the same hell he found himself in. “Sure, we’ll talk about it soon. I know our plan isn’t perfect.”

  “Did you hear that, Reno?” Boone whoopeed. “King said we could hunt a woman to help us out!”

  “Oh, hell yeah!” Reno voiced his approval and even Ace smiled to see the other men so jovial.

  “I didn’t say that!” King protested. “If we hire a cook, he will damn sure be a male!” By the time he voiced his protest, no one was around to hear him. Shaking his head, King headed to his own cabin to see what concoction Jericho had whipped up. As a rule, all the men congregated for meals with him, it was easier for one person to cook than for everyone to fend for themselves. Bounding up the steps, he smiled at the rocking chairs sitting in a row on the wide front porch. They enjoyed all the comforts of home at King’s Ransom, the only thing missing in their world was women. He knew his men longed for the company of the fairer sex, but the way things stood, they were forced to limit their interactions to trips into the city. What they did there, King didn’t want to know. Part of the reason for that dearth of female companionship was their desolate location and part was due to King’s lingering anger at women in general after he was jilted by the people he’d trusted most in this world. A betrayal like that changed a person.

  Throwing open the door, King let himself into the big log house. He loved this place, he and his men had built all the cabins with their own hands. His wasn’t as fancy as Magnolia Hall, but he was working to make it into a home he could be proud of. Every month or so, he sent for books from back east for his library, he even had a chess set and challenged different ones to a bout on a regular basis.

  Sniffing the air, he admitted he didn’t know what smelled worse, Jericho’s attempt at baking biscuits or the pile of dirty clothes behind the door needing to be washed. “I’m home!” About the time he stepped over what looked like a petrified cow patty on the floor, a whoosh of smoke billowed out of the kitchen. “Don’t burn the house down, Wright!”

  “Goldarned it all, King! I can’t make this cotton pickin’ stove work worth beans!”

  King had to laugh when big Jericho came stomping from the kitchen wearing a cloth tied around his waist like an apron, fanning the air with his hat.

  “Settle down, Jericho.” He realized he was between a rock and a hard place. “As soon as I find the time, I’ll place an ad for a housekeeper.” Scratched his head, King surveyed the mess his home had become. “Someone suitable.”

  “Thank the Lord above.” Jericho let out a long sigh. “She can’t get here soon enough for me.”

  “No one said anything about a she.” King insisted as he fanned the door to let the smoke out. “If anyone brings a woman here thinking to set her up in my household, it’ll be over my dead body.”

  Famous last words.

  * * *

  Three weeks later…

  “I don’t give a damn whether Bohannon wants a fence up or not. I’m tired of his scraggly cattle wandering over onto our land. If he rides over and gives you any trouble, you have my permission to shoot him!” King said with a snarl as he urged his horse into a gallop, riding away from the two men who were stringing wire between some newly set fence posts. With open range laws, fences were seldom met with approval.

  Boone waited a good three minutes before speaking. Their former Captain was known for his notoriously good hearing. “If King Ramsay doesn’t get laid soon, he’s gonna shoot one of us out of sheer meanness. I think we should take him to the nearest whorehouse and leave him there. A good fuck will calm him down.”

  Gentry threw back his head and laughed. “Do you ever think of anything other than sex, Boone?”

  “Not if I can help it,” he smirked, thinking of the last time he’d been with a woman. Lottie was a widow running a stagecoach inn outside of Waco. She had no intention of remarrying, but she did welcome Boone when he came to town. He didn’t frequent houses of ill repute, considering he’d spent his childhood in one, that was one part of his life he wanted to put far behind him. “The winds of turmoil have come and gone. Like Jericho sang as we marched south, I ain’t gonna study war no more.” With a smile he wiped the sweat from his brow. “Women are much more pleasurable to ponder. I just wish I could find me one to marry. Sweet. Innocent. Pretty as a picture.”

  “I agree with you, my exasperated friend.” Gentry tossed Boone his tooled-leather canteen. “Here, quench your thirst and cut King some slack. Losing a fiancé to another man, especially one’s own brother, must be a bitter pill to swallow.”

  Boone opened the canteen and took a sip, then sputtered a cough. “What the fuck is this?”

  “Wine, my good man, a fine French vintage. I’m sorry to surprise your plebian palate.”

  From behind them, hoofbeats sounded. Turning, they saw Domino and Jericho riding up to join them. “We just met King storming away, he said you might need some help,” Domino said pointing to Boone. “Why is he frowning?”

  “He doesn’t have an educated palate.”

  “Educated palate?” Jericho parroted Gentry. “I wish you’d speak English like the rest of us.”

  Domino laughed at Jericho’s unintentional humor. “How many bottles of that hooch do you have squirreled away in your saddlebags, Sir Lancelot?”

  “He’s not a Sir, Domino,” Jericho drawled, pulling his leather coat closer around him. The breeze was coming straight out of the north. “He’s a Duke. Isn’t that right, Gentry?”

  “Actually, I’m a prince of a fellow. I’ve worked hard to fit in with you ruffians.” He accepted the canteen back from Boone and offered it to the others. Jericho took it and smiled as he raised it to his lips.

  “Has there been any more word on Reno’s brother?” Jericho asked as he helped Boone attach the barbed wire to the post. “I didn’t hear anyone mention it after you returned from the East coast. All we knew is that he left as soon as you returned.”

  “We didn’t find him.” Gentry nodded sadly. “The tip we received led us to a man who was badly injured and unable to speak. We don’t know why he had Cole’s sutler tag. He didn’t match the description Reno gave us at all. When we told Reno, nothing could stop him from traveling there to check for himself.”

  “Well, I don’t blame him. I’d have gone too.” Boone hung his hammer in one of the belt loops on his military wool pants. “We don’t seem to be having much luck at anything lately. One reason King is so grouchy is that he had to come back and tell young Ace that no one is going to try and rescue his sister.”

  “I wonder why?” Gentry asked with a frown on his face. “What do they think the Calvary is for?”

  Domino dropped another fence post into a freshly dug hole. “The forts all have skeleton crews. Most of the soldiers were sent north to fight in the war. They’re just now sending units south to man the military posts.”

  “I don’t like it,” Gentry muttered. “I talked to Ace and he told me about Amelia. Just the thought of what that girl must be enduring worries me to death.”

  “Yea, but what can we do?” Boone asked as he pulled another strand of wire tight to affix to the top of the post.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t think I can just let it go.” The Englishman looked thoughtful, considering options he knew the others would think were crazy.

  “What about this cook King said we could hire? I think we should jump on this before he changes his mind.” Jericho was ready to find someone before it was his turn in the kitchen again.

  “I don’t know, I’m thinking this might be an opportunity for us to kill two birds with one stone,” Boone said slowly, holding Gentry’s gaze. “You know, righting a wrong. Doing something for a friend that he won’t do for himself.”

  “What are you jabbering about?” Domino a
sked, not following his friend.

  “We need a cook, but King needs a woman. It’s been two years and he hasn’t…you know…been to the city with us. He’s got to be frustrated as hell. I think we ought to do something to shake him out of these doldrums he’s in.”

  Domino started laughing, and soon Jericho joined in. Gentry didn’t laugh, but he narrowed his eyes and smiled at Boone as he asked softly. “Are you suggesting we find Captain Ramsay a woman?”

  Boone shrugged. “I’ve heard about those advertisements where women are offering to come west if offered matrimony.”

  “A wife? Are you crazy? We can’t offer matrimony on King’s behalf,” Jericho murmured in disbelief. “Can we?”

  Domino rubbed his chin. “Well, there is such a thing as a proxy marriage, where someone else represents one of the wedding party during the ceremony.”

  “Yea, but what preacher would do that without asking a whole bunch of questions?” Jericho persisted in his very reasonable questions.

  “Clay.” Gentry provided the answer. “Clay would do it.”

  “It wouldn’t be legal, though, would it?” Boone asked, the expression on his face as serious as a heart attack.

  Gentry, who’d studied law at university before coming to America, contemplated the question. “Well, that’s debatable. In Europe, there is a history of proxy marriages, and here in the states as well. Without King’s permission, it would only be legal if he didn’t contest the marriage. If both parties were happy with the arrangement, no one else would challenge it.”

  “That’s a big ‘if’ where King’s concerned.” Jericho looked off into the distance, clearly giving the matter some thought. “I agree that we need to make this first step. It’s worth the risk. He’s not going to make the move himself. If one of us were in the same boat, he wouldn’t hesitate to knock some sense into us. But I think we’ll be better off just bringing her in to meet him instead of trying to trick him with a proxy marriage.”