Cattle bawled inside the fog. "We wouldn't want to shoot a cow." Rhett stretched. "My father would be furious if we shot one of his cows.”

"Rhett...”

Rhett Butler laid a hand on John Haynes's shoulder. "I need you this morning, John, and I trust you to arrange matters properly. Please spare me your sound, kindly meant advice.”

John swallowed his advice, wishing he hadn't remembered about Shad Watling and the whippoorwill: After Langston Butler built Broughton's grand manor house, his overseer, Isaiah Watling, moved his family into the original Butler home, which was convenient to the rice fields and negro quarters. Huge live oaks, which had been saplings when the Butlers first arrived in the Low Country, shaded the small, plain farmhouse.

Nesting in a live oak, that whippoorwill welcomed them from twilight until dawn.

Apparently, Belle, the Watling girl, thought the bird was seeking a mate. Her mother, Sarah, said the bird was grieving.

The question of whether the bird was flirting or weeping was mooted at daybreak, not long after they moved in, when a shot blasted through the house. When his mother rushed into his bedroom, Shad Watling's smoking pistol lay on the windowsill. "Fool bird won't rise me up no more," Shad Watling grunted.

In poor light at sixty paces, Shad Watling had shot the tiny whippoorwill's head off its body.

John Haynes asked Rhett, "You've heard about that whippoorwill?”

"Just a yarn, John." Rhett scratched a match on his boot sole.

"Shad Watling has killed before, Rhett.”

The match sputtered and flared as Rhett lit his cigar. "But only negroes and men of his class.”

"Do you believe your gentle birth will turn a bullet?”

"Why, yes," Rhett said solemnly. "Hell yes! Gentle birth's got to be good for something!”

"Comes somebody," Hercules spoke from his elevated seat.

Breathing hard, a young man emerged from the fog. His frock coat was folded over his arm and his trouser knees were wet where he'd stumbled.

"Darn cows," he confided. He shifted his jacket and offered his hand to John Haynes, then thought better of it and made an awkward bow instead.

"Tom Jaffery. Amity, Massachusetts. At your service, gentlemen.”

"Well, Tom." Rhett smiled. "It seems your Charleston visit will be a memorable one.”

Jaffery was two or three years younger than Rhett and John. "They'll never believe this in Amity.”

"Lurid tales, Tom. Lurid tales are the South's principal export. When you describe us to your friends, remark the devilishly handsome, gallant Rhett Butler." Rhett's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "If I were telling the tale, I wouldn't mention the cows.”

"Has your principal arrived?" John asked the young Yankee.

Tom Jaffery gestured at the fog bank. "Watling and that Dr. Ward, too.

They don't care for each other.”

John Haynes took the younger man's arm, walking him out of Rhett's earshot. "Mr. Jaffery, have you seconded these affairs before?”

"No, sir. We don't hardly do this kind of thing in Amity. I mean, my grandfather might have done it, but nowadays we don't. I'm a novice, so to speak. My aunt Patience passed to her Heavenly Reward and she bequeathed me a sum, so I set out to see the country. Tom, I says to myself, if not now, for goodness' sake, when? So there I was, admiring your Charleston harbor, which is, if I might say so, every bit the equal of our famous Boston harbor.

Anyway, there I was when Mr. Watling approached me and asked was I a gentleman, and I said I certainly hoped so. When Mr. Watling asked if I would second him, I thought, Tom, you've come to see the country, and see the country you shall. I'll never get a chance like this in Amity.”

John Haynes didn't tell the younger man that Shad Watling's choosing a Yankee stranger to second him was a calculated insult.

"Are you familiar with your duties?”

"We seconds make sure everything happens regular.”

John Haynes eyed the young Yankee thoughtfully. "Seeking reconciliation between the principals is our primary duty," he said with the regret of the man who has failed that duty.

"Oh, my principal isn't contemplatin' reconciliation. My principal says he anticipates shootin' Mr. Butler in the heart. He and Mr. Butler are old acquaintances.”

"It will be light soon. We generally let sunrise be our signal.”

"Sunrise suits you, suits us.”

"When the sun comes over the horizon, the gentlemen choose their pistols.

As the challenged party, your man chooses first. Shall we load now?”

John Haynes braced the mahogany box on the carriage fender, unlatched it, and removed a pistol. The sleek knurled butt felt alive in his hand, as if he'd clutched a water moccasin. "As you see, the pistols are identical.

While you observe, I'll charge one pistol. You will charge the second.”

John poured powder, set a round lead ball into an oiled cloth patch, and rammed it home. He placed a cap under the hammer and eased the hammer to half cock.

"They'll never believe this back home," Thomas Jaffery said.

The morning gathered light, the fog tore into streamers, and two ghostly vehicles swam into sight across the meadow: a one-horse chaise and a mule-drawn farm wagon.

Rhett Butler untied his horse from behind the carriage and pressed his face against the beast's powerful neck. "You're not frightened, are you, Tecumseh? Don't be. Nothing's going to hurt you.”

"This meadow, John — they grew indigo here in my grandfather's day.

There's a pond in the woods where pintails hatch their young. Muskrats are fond of young pintails, and sometimes a brood will be paddling along, until one is pulled under — so swiftly, they don't make a flurry. Our trunk master, Will, trapped muskrats here.”

"Rhett, we seconds will speak with Watling. What apology will you accept?”

Rhett squeezed his eyes shut obstinately. "Shad Watling claims I am father of his sister's child. I have said Watling is a liar. If Watling admits his lie, I will withdraw my challenge.”

"Will you offer compensation? Money so the girl can go somewhere to have her baby?”

"If Belle needs money, I will give her money. Money has nothing to do with this.”

"As your friend, Rhett...”

"John, John ..." Rhett muffled his face in Tecumseh's neck. "A friend would help me finish this thing.”

Shadrach Watling's farm wagon was heaped with broken wheels, hubs, and rims. "Morning, Mr. Jaffery, Mr. Haynes. I see you brung Butler.”

"Shad...”

"It'll be 'Mr. Watling' today.”

"Mr. Watling, I trust we can reach an accommodation.”

"B'lieve Butler 'commodated my sister. B'lieve I'll 'commodate him.”

"When Rhett Butler treated you as a gentlemen, he complimented you.”

Shad spat. "I'm thinkin' of westering. Goddamn, I'm sick of the Low Country. Rich bastards and niggers. Niggers and rich bastards. I got cousins in Missouri.”

"Wherever you go, you'll want money. If your sister, Belle, were to go with you, the scandal would die.”

Watling chuckled. "Butler offering me money?”

"No, sir. I am.”

"All comes down to money, don't it?" Watling spat again.

Shadrach Watling was a beardless, thickset man. "Naw, not this time. I got a grudge against Butler. Even though Pa whipped Belle good, she never would say 'twas Rhett topped her. Ain't no nevermind. I'm craving to put a bullet in Butler. He weren't no 'count as the Young Master and I hear he weren't no 'count as a soldier boy, neither. Butler ain't worth a bootful of warm piss.”

Shad Watling eyed the river. "Gonna be light directly. I got four busted wheels for the wheelwright, and he starts his day early. Bein's I'm the challenged man, I'll be namin' the distance. Figure fifty paces'll be far enough for me to hit and him to miss. I wouldn't want be nicked by no stray ball.”

His stubby, stained teeth glistened in silent laughter.

Swaddled in thick woolen robes, the surgeon was snoring in his buggy.

When John Haynes tapped his boot toe, Franklin Ward opened his eyes and yawned. "Ah. Our business ..." He unbundled, stepped down, and faced away; the stink of his urine made John Haynes's nose twitch. The doctor wiped his fingers on his coattails.

i i Dr. Ward offered his hand to Rhett, "Ah, the patient, I presume!”

Rhett grinned. "You have appliances for extracting the bullet, Doctor? Probes? Bandages?”

"Sir, I studied in Philadelphia.”

"Doubtless, Philadelphia is an excellent city to have studied in.”

Shad Watling ambled behind, grinning absently and scratching his thigh.

"Mr. Butler," Tom Jaffery asked, "why are you removing your shirt?”

"Hold it for me, John? I take off my shirt, my Yankee friend, so the bullet won't push cloth into the wound.”

"Maybe you jest like goin' naked." Shad Watling eyed the slighter man disdainfully. "Me, I generally don't take off more clothes'n I got to.”

"Gentlemen," John Haynes interrupted, "this is a terrible, deadly business and I must ask again if honor wouldn't be served by Mr. Watling's retraction, an apology and recompense from Mr. Butler.”

Gooseflesh pimpled Rhett's arms in the chilly air.

"Fifty paces," Shad said, "oughta serve. Butler, you remember your nigger pal, Will? How Will cried for mercy? If n you cry for mercy, maybe I'll let you off." Watling showed his teeth again. "Let me see them pistols.

Yank, did you watch Mr. Haynes load? Didn't double-charge one of them pistols, did he? Might have had one charge already in the barrel 'fore he poured the second charge atop?”