Jack Caldwell - Pemberley Ranch

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[*]—Historical Character

Natives and/or longtime residents of Rosings, Texas:

Catherine “Cate” Burroughs—Owner of the B&R Ranch and Rosings Bank; widow of Lewis Burroughs and cousin by marriage to Matthew Darcy, William Darcy’s father

Anne Burroughs—Only daughter of Catherine Burroughs

William Darcy, Captain, Texas Legion, Confederate States Army (CSA)—Owner of Pemberley Ranch and Darcy Bank

Gabrielle “Gaby” Darcy—Only sister to Darcy

José Estrada—Assistant trail boss of Pemberley Ranch

Hill—Farmhand at the Bennet Farm

Deputy Jones

Father Joseph—Rector of the Santa Maria Catholic Mission chapel near Rosings

Sheriff Lucas—Longtime sheriff of Rosings; widowed

Charlotte Lucas—Only child of Sheriff Lucas

Judge Alton Phillips

Margaret Reynolds—Cook and housekeeper at Pemberley; former slave.

Deputy Smith

Reverend Henry Tilney—Minister of the Rosings Baptist Church

Sally Younge—Owner and madam of Younge’s Saloon, inherited from her late husband

Carl Zimmerman—Owner of Zimmerman’s General Store and titular mayor of Rosings

New to Rosings:

Thomas Bennet—Native of Ohio; now owner of former Thompson farm west of Rosings

Fanny Bennet—Wife of Thomas Bennet

Jane Bennet—Eldest Bennet daughter

Elizabeth “Beth” Bennet

Mary Bennet

Kathleen “Kathy” Bennet

Lily Bennet

Dr. Charles Bingley, Medical Corps, CSA—Native of Georgia, now practicing doctor in Rosings

Billy Collins—Native of Georgia, manager of Rosings Bank

Joshua “Kid” Denny, Quantrill’s Raiders, CSA—Native of Missouri, gunfighter and foreman of the B&R Ranch

Richard “Fitz” Fitzwilliam, Major, Virginia Cavalry, CSA— Native of Texas, now foreman and trail boss of Pemberley Ranch

Pyke, Corporal, XIII Corps, United States Army, (USA)—Native of Illinois

Thorpe—One of Denny’s gang

Washington family—Newly freed slave family from Louisiana, owners of new homestead farm east of Rosings

George Whitehead, Major, XIII Corps, USA—Native of Illinois, now Recorder of Deeds of Long Branch County, appointed by the governor

Others:

Caroline Bingley—Native of Georgia and sister to Bingley, now resident of New Orleans

Capt. John Buford—Member of the U.S. Army Cavalry stationed at Ft. Richardson, Texas

William Tecumseh Sherman, Major General of Volunteers, XV Corps, USA [*]

Ulysses S. Grant, Major General, Army of the Tennessee, USA [*]

Vicksburg, Mississippi—May 22, 1863

The day was several hot, stifling hours old when the young, gray-clad captain of infantry once again peeked carefully over the ramparts of his position into the morning sun, telescope in hand. He saw nothing, but he was not deceived. Since the initial assault upon their location three days ago, the enemy had tirelessly moved men and materiel into position for another attack. The sounds of horses and cannon wheels had been constant since before daybreak. The heavily wooded hilly terrain was not only perfect for defense but also for hiding the maneuvers of their attacker.

“Them Yankee boys are gettin’ ready to come a’visitin’ again, Cap’n?” a voice whispered into his ear.

William Darcy, captain in the Texas Legion, Confederate States Army, turned his bright blue eyes to his sergeant beside him and wiped a dirty hand across his beard-covered chin before answering. “My compliments to the colonel, and report that the enemy is moving forward.”

No sooner had the man offered the barest of salutes and moved away from the front lines than the woods opposite exploded with noise. Darcy’s screams of warning were unnecessary as men ducked from the incoming cannon fire. Darcy lay at the bottom of the trench like the others, keeping his head as low as possible. On an impulse, the twenty-year-old officer pulled out the pocket watch his father had given him for his birthday two years before.

Ten o’clock exactly.

The cannonballs began to fall behind the lines towards Vicksburg itself. Darcy knew what that was about even before the cries of the enemy reached his ears. He pulled out his sword and stood in a low crouch.

“To the line, boys, to the line! The enemy is upon us! Give ’em hell!”

The bedraggled Texans, in various uniforms of Confederate gray, rushed to the ramparts, muskets in hand, screaming the Rebel Yell that had terrified more than one Union solider since Bull Run. Just in time, too, as the first of the men in blue were mere yards away. Darcy’s view of the attackers disappeared behind a cloud of smoke as the muskets fired in a volley. The smoke cleared to show a score of figures in dirty blue scattered on the bare ground before the earthworks, but there were a hundred more advancing. The first line of defenders fell back to reload as the second line took their places.

“Fire at will!” Darcy yelled as he drew his Colt revolver. “Fire at will!”

Time lost all meaning as Darcy fired into the advancing horde again and again. The Texans knew that their position, straddling a rail line, was a key point in the defense of Vicksburg, and they fought desperately against the Union soldiers, who were just as desperate to take it. The din was deafening as gunfire, explosions, and screams blended into an unearthly sound.

Darcy had ducked down to reload his pistol for the third time when he noted that the noise had abated a bit. Creeping up, he saw through the smoke and haze that the Yankees were pulling back in good order. He ordered his men to cease firing and conserve their precious ammunition as he glanced at his watch again.

Ten fifteen.

Darcy and his company had been relieved about midday as fresh troops took up their position in the lunette[1]. They were resting as well as they could, with the occasional cannonball falling throughout the afternoon, when they were approached by a group of officers on horseback. The commander of the legion, Colonel Waul, spoke to them.

“Men, we’ve got some Yankees that have broken through at the redoubt. They’re a stubborn bunch, an’ I need some volunteers to help clear the vermin out. Are you with me?”

Darcy looked at his men. “Sir, how many do you need?”

“A score will do, Captain. We muster down the lane here.” With that, the party rode off. Darcy rose to his feet and looked around. A good two dozen men volunteered, and soon the detail moved off to the rendezvous point. They joined up with others and the plan was formed. By late afternoon, the force moved into position near the railroad redoubt.

Darcy could see men in blue hiding in the trenches or behind shelter. He knew this assault would be costly.

A shout went up, and the Texans charged. Darcy ran before his men, the Colt in his right hand and a sword in his left. The men to either side fired their muskets on the run and continued the charge, bayonets gleaming in the afternoon light. The enemy returned fire from their positions, but even as men fell around him, Darcy knew it was too little, too late. They were almost upon them. The Union soldiers began to fall back in some disorder. Darcy bared his teeth as he smelled the impending victory…

There was a mighty explosion, and Darcy experienced a feeling of flying before the world crashed into his face.

Will Darcy knew nothing, except that he hurt. Hurt all over. Hurt bad.