When the Splendor Falls (97 page)

“What?”

“He had a brother. An older brother. A Major Montgomery Stanfield. I met him several times when he came to our regimental headquarters from his department to visit his brother. Major Stanfield was the commanding officer of the troop guarding that shipment of gold bullion that was robbed near Gordonsville just before we left Virginia. Remember? The newspapers said it was Captain Dagger who robbed the train and massacred those unarmed soldiers. And remember that Confederate troop that was scouring the countryside for Captain Dagger because of that incident?”

Leigh lost all of the color in her face, her blue eyes darkening into indigo with the fear she could feel sneaking up her spine. “But it wasn’t true. Neil and his men didn’t rob that train and kill those men. You know that.”

“You and I know that, but most people don’t,” Guy reminded her. “When you have someone who becomes as legendary as Captain Dagger, instilling fear in the hearts of already frightened people, every act of violence is attributed to that mythical figure. It is far easier for them to accept Captain Dagger’s almost supernatural feats than to think there might be another murdering raider roaming their lands. That would be too much to bear.”

“Do you think this Stanfield knows Neil was Captain Dagger during the war?” Leigh asked, remembering Neil’s words that for some, the war would never be over.

“Well, it is mighty odd, Stanfield showing up here. Of all the places he could drift to after the war, this is the last place I would have thought,
unless
he had a reason for coming here. And he lied about his name. Why the devil didn’t he introduce himself to me? He knew me. But, if he somehow found Captain Dagger’s true identity, which he might have been able to, and believing he killed his brother, tracked him down here, then…” Guy said, his words hanging in the silence that suddenly fell between them.

“Tracked him down?” Leigh repeated the phrase. “Tracked him down like an animal he was out to trap and kill?”

Guy met her worried glance. “Stanfield is a gentleman, Leigh,” he said. “He’s one of the Stanfields of Virginia. He may mistakenly hold Neil responsible for his brother’s death, but I don’t think he will do anything more than confront him, perhaps try to bring him to justice, or…”

“Or…?”

“Or maybe call the man out,” Guy said almost in embarrassment as he remembered another hotheaded Virginian who’d done much the same thing. “He is a gentleman, Leigh,” he said again, for he supposed that still meant something in this world. “He won’t shoot Neil in the back,” he added, only making matters worse as he got quickly to his feet, wishing he’d said nothing to her before he could have had a word with Stanfield. They could have settled it between them without Leigh ever having known. But now, as he saw the expression on her lovely face, he believed her when she said she loved Neil with all her heart, because she looked terrified.

“I have to find Neil and tell him about this man Stanfield. He has to be warned,” Leigh said, already hurrying from the courtyard.

“Neil’s already gone, Leigh,” Guy called after her.

“Where?” she asked, damning herself for having slept so late.

“I don’t know, out somewhere on the property. I’ll try to find Stanfield,” Guy told her, hoping she wouldn’t do anything rash as he tried to catch up with her.

But Leigh was beyond listening as she hurried along the corridor, stopping briefly to look in Nathaniel’s study as Guy hurried to the big hall, where he’d heard voices. Someone might know where Neil had gone.

The study empty, Leigh hurried on and found Guy in the big hall speaking with Solange, who was writing a letter as she talked with Camilla.

“What is it?” Leigh demanded, seeing the look on Guy’s face.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset,” Solange said, staring up at Guy in dismay.

“Solange just told me that Michael Sebastian couldn’t come to her studio today to view her paintings because he was riding out with Neil to move a tree that fell across the creek during one of the last storms this winter. It’s damming up the water,” Guy said, glancing around almost helplessly as he stared at the whispering aunts, their furtive glances making him nervous.

“The tree fell during one of the winter storms, but it wasn’t causing any trouble until recently, when the snows started to melt, and then it caused the stream to become only a trickle. Nathaniel saw it the other day when he was out riding beyond the north pasture and he gave orders for it to be chopped up. Neil offered to do it,” Camilla told them, thinking nothing of it as she went back to her perusal of a fashion magazine.

“My God, I don’t even know where the north pasture is,” Guy said in growing frustration, beginning to worry that Michael Sebastian Stanfield might not still be a gentleman.

“I know where it is,” Leigh said, her steps carrying her quickly from the room. She reached Nathaniel’s empty study, walking without hesitation to the gun cabinet in the corner, knowing what she must do. She tried to pull the glass doors open, but they were locked. Glancing around, Leigh grabbed one of the brass fireplace tools, raising the poker and breaking the glass as she wedged the pointed end between the two locked panels and, with a splintering of fine wood, broke the lock in two.

Reaching in, Leigh grasped a rifle, then fumbled through the drawers beneath to find the shells. Dropping a couple of the metal cylinders, she finally loaded the rifle, then hurried from the room, meeting Guy in the corridor, but she brushed past him.

“Leigh! My God, Leigh, what are you going to do?” he demanded, unable to believe his eyes, and remembering the reb deserters she’d shot, he almost wished now he couldn’t see as he watched her running down the corridor with that rifle, unmindful of him as she disappeared out the door.

“Damn!” he swore beneath his breath, continuing after her and wondering what he could do. Not only did he not know where the north pasture was, he didn’t even have a horse to ride to the north pasture if he did.

Leigh reached the stables, not bothering to get a stable boy to help saddle Capitaine. She had to disappoint him when she entered his stall and he greeted her with a welcoming snort, for she had no apple for him this time. Patting his rump, she led him from the stall, quickly putting his bridle on and saddling him, then adding the leather holster for the rifle, something she seldom rode with. Leading him to the mounting block, she was up and heading out of the stables within ten minutes of entering, Capitaine’s hooves sending up dust as she rode across the
rancho
yard, not even seeing Guy running across the yard behind her, but Nathaniel did as he came riding from the opposite direction. He stopped just long enough to hear what Guy had to tell him, then he was riding after Leigh, the big bay traveling quickly across the grassland and through the streambed until Nathaniel caught sight of her disappearing into the woods.

Leigh paused on the soft bank overlooking the small lake that had formed where the pine tree had fallen across the streambed. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw Neil stretched out on the ground beside the fallen log, Michael Stanfield standing over his body, an ax raised high above his head—and held ready to swing down on Neil’s unsuspecting back.

Leigh could already envision the blood pouring from Neil’s back, cleaved in two by the blade of the ax, and she drew the rifle from the holster, raising it and holding it steady as she took aim on Michael Stanfield’s head.

But before Leigh could pull the trigger, her forefinger just touching it, a roar split through the quiet, and Leigh fought to keep her seat, hold on to the rifle, and control a frightened Capitaine. Glancing around in surprise, Leigh saw Nathaniel sitting astride his horse in the stream below. Knowing Royal Rivers better than she, he’d taken a different, quicker trail along the streambed, where only a ribbon of water remained, and she’d never even heard his approach.

Leigh sent Capitaine down the slope, riding toward Neil and his would-be murderer, Michael Stanfield, both of whom were standing in amazed silence as they watched Nathaniel and his daughter-in-law come riding up, their horses lathering.

Michael Stanfield stared down at the ax handle, the blade having been blown clean off before he could swing it down.

“Neil!” Leigh cried out, hopping down with her rifle, and running toward him. “He was going to murder you!” Her voice came hoarsely as she swung the loaded rifle at a startled Michael Stanfield.

“He’s not Michael Sebastian,” Leigh began, looking surprised when Neil took the rifle from her and pointed it away from Stanfield’s stomach. “His name is really Michael Stanfield, and he knows you were the Union raider Captain Dagger. He believes you murdered his brother, who was guarding a shipment of gold bullion he thinks you stole, and he has come here to Royal Rivers to get revenge,” Leigh said, her story tumbling out breathlessly.

Nathaniel sat his big bay easily, his rifle held casually across his knee as he listened, his pale gray eyes never leaving Stanfield.

“So Guy Travers did recognize me,” Michael Sebastian Stanfield said, glancing over at Neil with an almost comical expression on his face.

“Leigh, Michael Sebastian Stanfield rode with me from Washington. I’ve known all along who he is,” Neil said, staring at Leigh as intently as his father had been staring at Stanfield. “He did indeed come here to find the man who murdered his brother, Major Montgomery Stanfield, and stole that Confederate gold,
but
he came as an agent of the federal government. Do you still have that photograph?” Neil asked, trying to hide his smile at Leigh’s crestfallen expression.

Stanfield pulled a faded, dog-eared photograph from his pocket, handing it to Neil, who handed it to Leigh. “The man second from the right is one of the men who murdered my brother.”

Leigh stared at the photograph of about ten men in Confederate uniforms, their grinning faces smiling back at her, and she glanced up in surprise. “That’s Courtney Boyce.”

“When he was a member of my brother’s troop, his name was Clifton Butts. He was the only survivor of the massacre.
He
was the eyewitness who identified Captain Dagger as the raider. A couple of months after that, he disappeared mysteriously. I wanted to know why my brother was shot down in cold blood. Even though I was a reb, and had read about the exploits of Captain Dagger, I had never heard of him having committed such a heinous crime. He was no Quantrill. So I started investigating. I discovered there had been a number of robberies. And all very successfully executed. Not only had gold bullion been stolen, but guns and ammunition too. And all attributed to Captain Dagger. The only problem was that even Captain Dagger did not ride a horse with wings, and he could not be in two places at once, which it would have required for him to have been responsible for half of those robberies reported. The only man I could talk to, to confirm what he’d claimed, had disappeared. I started to look for the man, and my search kept coming back to one man, an Alfonso Jacobs. He was some official with the Treasury Department. This Alfonso Jacobs and Clifton Butts, if they worked together, would have had the information necessary for planning these robberies. I ran into a dead end with Clifton Butts, so I tried to find out all I could about this Alfonso Jacobs, and the more I dug, the more concerned I became. He was a wealthy rancher in the territories, with a Spanish wife and close ties to Mexico, and he was a rabid Confederate sympathizer. He, also, disappeared shortly after the last robbery. The more I discovered about the man, I began to suspect that he was the mastermind behind the robberies, and that he might have aspirations to form his own republic in the territories after the South fell. He could not have been in a better position. He had guns and ammunition, gold to fund his ambitions, and the federal authorities would be busy fighting the last of the Confederate army that refused to surrender. I felt as if I could read this Alfonso Jacobs’s mind. He had himself an empire out here in the territories. And he could very easily, after the last of the rebs were dealt with, stir up a problem with the Indians,” Stanfield told them, his voice coming evenly, convincingly as he spoke. “I took my suspicions to Washington, to the federal authorities. Although I was the enemy, I had a brother who was dead, murdered, and I told them I knew it was not their infamous Captain Dagger who committed the crime. I told them I thought I knew who was behind those acts against the Confederacy, and what would soon become acts of treason against the Union, and they listened. It didn’t hurt that I had friends at staff headquarters who could vouch for me. I had nothing to gain, except bring to justice the men who’d murdered my brother, and the Union had much to lose if they didn’t stop this new rebellion before it spread.”

“That is when I was called in to meet with Michael Stanfield. Headquarters wanted me to work with him,” Neil said, not saying that his superiors might not have completely trusted the former Confederate officer, despite his convincing evidence. “I knew Alfonso Jacobs, and Captain Stanfield knew this Clifford Butts, or as he was known here in the territories, Courtney Boyce. I realized that when I recognized the man the other day when he arrived here with Diosa and Luis. The authorities knew I would have an interest in keeping peace in the territories, and I could also make certain Captain Stanfield had a legitimate reason for being here. Fortunately he arrived in time for the shearing and there was no problem getting him hired on at Royal Rivers. He could stay here without casting suspicion on himself while he investigated Alfonso Jacobs and Courtney Boyce. They have been making too many trips into Mexico and Texas for the government’s peace of mind. Captain Stanfield’s story was already being corroborated by American agents in Mexico. That is why he is here at Royal Rivers,” Neil told them. “He is after Alfonso Jacobs and this Courtney Boyce, not Captain Dagger. We do not want another Civil War erupting here in the territories,” Neil said.

“And if Boyce recognized Captain Stanfield, remembering who his brother was, then Stanfield and I agreed to let them believe he was here at Royal Rivers to find Captain Dagger. We know Alfonso knew I was Captain Dagger and was the source of many rumors during the war as to my identity. That is also why there were so many erroneous reportings of raids by Captain Dagger. Alfonso was already using Captain Dagger to hide his own activities. We thought to do the same thing, letting them believe Captain Dagger was again under suspicion. It would work to our advantage to mislead them, and perhaps they would become careless. We were surprised, however, that Boyce did not attend the barbecue last night, until learning he and Alfonso left abruptly for Texas. We intend to ride over to Silver Springs later today and do a little reconnoitering while they’re away. I’ve already sent a couple of
vaqueros
to Fort Union and Fort Marcy, warning them to be on the lookout for Alfonso and Boyce, and for Diosa and Luis, who are heading into Mexico.”