Chapter 1

Ex-Capt. Beauregard DuVahl was excessively pissed! His horse had given out on him, and he was still 10 miles from his home plantation. Dammit! Well, the poor beast had not had a decent meal in weeks, except what he could crop from the winter vegetation that they had been passing through. Beau, as his friends called him, was from Southeastrn Alabama, and he had been in Northern Virginia when the War of Northern Aggression ended, though most Southerners just called it "the War." However, there was no doubt that you could hear the capitalized "W" when they said it.

Beau was running so late getting home because he had been detailed by the Damyankees to help them demobilize the Confederate troops and get them sent home as soon as possible. Beau was being imposed on, and he knew it, but there was nothing that he could do about it, and he did feel some responsibility for the Confederate troops who were suddenly turned out in a hostile land—hostile because it was occupied militarily by the Damyankees.

Capt. Beauregard DuVahl of the 17^th Alabama Light Cavalary was distinguished because of his college education. He was one of the first graduates of the East Alabama Male College (Methodist), Auburn, Alabama. In fact, he had graduated just in time to enter the Confederate Army after only a few days at home. His family had planned a big wedding for Beau and his fiancee for the fall of 1861, but, of course, it had never happened. One of the reasons that Beau was in such a hurry to get home was because Emily had promised to wait for him.

Beau was an imposing figure. He was 5'-11" tall and weighed in at 167 pounds. He would weigh about 20 more pounds as soon as he could get back to a normal diet, food had been kind of sparse toward the end of the War. His very dark hair, almost black, and green eyes went very well with his otherwise regular features. Beau could always count on turning the head of any woman he decided to smile upon. Beau was faithful to Emily, but he did smile a lot when he was around a beautiful woman.

As was usual with the Damyankees, they had let him keep his personal arms. In this case, Beau was armed with two LeMat standard issue pistols. They were a nominal .44 caliber 9-shot revolvers with an 18-gauge shotgun barrel mounted just below the regular bullet barrel. The revolvers had initially been .42 caliber, but they were enlarged slightly so that they would accept the regular US Army ammunition in .44 caliber when Confederate supplies began running short. These revolvers were the conventional cap and ball with loose powder type of weapon that everybody had by then. Beau also had two extra cylinders, so he was able to reload in a very short time.

He expended one of his bullets in putting his horse out of its misery, but he immediately reloaded—a habit he had picked up very early in the War. Of course, the Damyankees did not practice scalping their enemies, but the routine of reloading immediately was known among the troops as a way to "keep your hair."

Now Beau had a decision to make. There was more stuff packed on his horse than he could carry, but he didn't know how long he would have to wait for a ride to show up. He had seen almost nobody on the road that day, so he was taking a gamble by waiting. However, Beau's optimism paid off in less than an hour.

Beau spied an elderly man headed his way and in the direction Beau wanted to go. The man was driving a farm wagon pulled by a mule only a little bit better off than the horse that Beau had just shot. Beau stepped out into the road when the man got close and held up both hands to show that he was no threat. Despite that show of good intentions, the man still pulled a musketoon and pointed it at Beau.

Well, this was an unexpected greeting, but Beau recognized the elderly man as John Ward, the owner of a neighboring plantation. "Howdy, Mr. Ward? I guess you don't recognize me. I'm Beauregard DuVahl, your neighbor. I'm just headed back from the War."

"Well, glory be! Howdy, Beau? I thought ya was dead! So many of the men who went away ta fight was killed that we'uns what was left behind just give up hope of ever seein' y'all again."

"Well, I am glad to report that I made it back. My horse just died on me, and I wonder if I can get a ride with you as far as you are going toward my home?"

"Ya sure kin, Beau, but ya won't find nothin' there when ya get to Pecan Place. Some Damyankee marauders set fire ta it 'bout six months ago and burned down everythin' what was standin'. Ya ma died 'bout two years ago an' ya pa didn't last long after her. Everybody thought the place was abandoned, and some Carpetbagger has laid claim ta it, now."

John Ward could see how upset Beau was at this news and tried to calm him down. "Beau, ya gotta remember that we all figured that ya was dead. I kin tell by yer looks that ya're plannin' ta shoot more than one man over this, but I'll caution ya ta think it over afore ya start shootin'."

Beau breathed out a mighty sigh and said, "OK, you're right, Mr. Ward. I can't go around shooting people just because I'm upset and mad. I'll do it your way.

"Can you tell me what happened to Emily Hanson? You know that we were betrothed just before I left for the Army. Do you know where I can find her?"

"I'm afeared not, Beau. She married some gov'ment man 'bout 18 months after ya left. She went off with him, and we ain't never heard from her since then."

"Shit, Mr. Ward! What am I going to do? Suddenly, I have nothing to live for. I feel like I might as well shoot myself right now, and save myself a lot of grief!"

"Well, Son, I don't know fer sure what ta tell ya. I will say this, though. Ya're still a young man, soz ya gots yer whole life ahead of ya. Ya gots ta be both smart an' lucky ta live through the War. I'd hate ta see ya waste that just 'cause ya're sad and disappointed right now.

"There ain't nothin' much around here fer ya, but there's a whole world out there just waitin' fer a smart an' lucky man ta come along an' make somethin' of hisself ifen he just sets his mind ta it. Ifen I was in yer shoes, Son, I'd think real hard 'bout headin' West. This here country is pretty much burned out, both physically an' emotionally. It'll be years afore it works itself back ta bein' a land of opportunity. Ya ought ta go where good thin's is happenin'. Ya needs ta git out of this here cesspool that the Confederacy has become. Go where a man has a chance ta make somethin' of hisself. Well, that's what I have ta say, fer what it's worth."

"Mr. Ward, you have just done me a world of good! I'll take your advice and thank you kindly for it. Ever since I was a little tyke, I knew you for a smart man, but I never gave you the credit you deserved. I wonder if I can stay at your place tonight. Tomorrow, I'll try to find a horse so that I can head West. Is that OK with you?"

"Sure, Son. Ya're welcome ta stay as long as ya need ta, but I do think that ya should git out as soon as ya kin manage it."

The conversation continued in this vein for the next mile or so, then they were interrupted by two men who rode out of the bushes and stopped in front of them. One man grabbed the mule's halter while the other man came up to Mr. Ward. "Old man, we'll just take any money ya got on ya. Ya, too, young fellow. Now, hand it over!"

Beau's immediate thought was that this bandit must either be drunk or stupid. He was so overconfident that he had not even drawn his pistol. That was all of the edge Beau needed. He was wearing his guns in the crossdraw position, so he had no trouble getting his gun drawn from his left holster with his right hand, even though he was sitting down at the time.

He thumbed back the hammer and pulled back on the trigger, all in one motion. The bandit never even moved toward his gun, he was so completely surprised by Beau's maneuver. Beau's LeMat barked just once, but that was enough to eliminate the nearer bandit with a bullet in his chest.