Read Online Only the Gallant by Kerry Newcomb - Free Book Online

thumb in his gunbelt. A Colt dragoon rode high on his hip in a worn leather holster. “Let it lay. We don’t need trouble with the army. Not now, when Cicero here is fixing to make us all rich.”
    His words had an almost magical effect on his two brothers and Titus. Suddenly all differences were set aside, animosity vanished, weapons were lowered as the Starks and their cousin came together in the center of the barn.
    “That’s how it should be.” Doc nodded approvingly. “We’re blood kin. If we turn against each other, we’re no better’n animals.”
    “A pretty speech, Doc,” Titus remarked. “I like how it began. Something about this darkie making us rich.”
    “The name is Cicero,” the black man interjected.
    “I found him hiding in the stable out back of Letitia’s Sporting House down by the river. Seems he’s a runaway.”
    “I’m free. I aims to stay that way,” Cicero said, heading for the coffeepot.
    “What’s he got to do with us?” Milo asked.
    “Gold. A strongbox full of Spanish gold,” Doc replied. The men around him grew silent. The only sound came from the restless herd of half-wild horses in the pens. Sweat rolled down Doc’s cheeks and lost itself in the black stubble. He shifted his gaze to the black man. “Tell them,” he said.
    “Spanish gold in a wood-and-iron chest, so big.” Cicero held his hands about two feet apart.
    “Where?”
    “Hidden on Dunsinane, the plantation where I was born, just a long day’s ride from Vicksburg,” the ex-slave told them, nursing his coffee. It was the first time in his life Cicero had ever felt important, and he was enjoying himself.
    “I don’t know how old Marse Tyrone came by it. But before he died he done had my pa hide that chest on the plantation. Now only three people know its whereabouts. Bon Tyrone and Miss Ophelia is two. And I be the third. My pa told me where he put it for Marse.”
    “On a plantation!” Titus said, ruefully shaking his head. “What are we supposed to do, fight our way to Vicksburg, us four, against the whole damn Rebel army? Cousin, I admire your notion of fair odds.” He started to turn away, but Doc caught him by the arm and turned him back.
    “We let Grant do the job for us. It’s common talk that Sherman and Grant will be joining up to march on Vicksburg. No one’s sure as to the course they’ll take.” Doc folded his arms across his barrel chest and looked from Milo to Emory to Titus. “I say we tag along. And when we’re close to Cicero’s plantation, we’ll light out, get the gold, and head for Indian Territory.”
    “Taking me along,” Cicero added.
    “Of course,” Doc told the black man. “We’re partners. Equal shares and you’ll ride with us out of this heathen land to freedom.” He extended his arm. “And here’s my hand on it, in front of my kin.”
    Cicero nodded and clasped Doc’s outstretched hand. Then he returned to the biscuits and bacon, his appetite yet to be appeased.
    Behind him, Doc Stark continued to smile warmly, though on closer look, his eyes betrayed him. They glittered with a different hunger. Spanish gold—now, there was a feast a man might live and die for—or kill for. It was all a matter of taste.

Chapter Six
    T OAD BRADLEY STOOD ON the porch of his mother’s Rooms for Ladies and stuck two fingers in a jar of dark brown honey then popped them in his mouth. He was eleven years old, fair-haired and sunburned. He wore woolen knee-length trousers, suspenders, an oversized shirt haphazardly tucked in his waistband. He sucked his fingers clean and pulled them from his mouth with a pop.
    “I said she’s gone, mister. And my ma ain’t here, so I can’t get her. But she’d tell you the same thing. Miss Tyrone up and left this morning.” He jammed his fingers in the honey jar, then, as if remembering his manners, removed his hand and tilted the wide-mouth jar toward Jesse McQueen.
    “Have some. Autumn honey’s thick as molasses and sweeter. Some