before I hooked up with the Texas Rangers,” he said with a roar of laughter. “The state was under Yankee military rule, like every place else in the South, but hell—apologies, ladies—those bluecoats didn’t have the first idea what to do about the Indians. The Rangers had been fighting ’em all along, and the only hope the ranchers had was that the Rangers would keep on protecting them. So that’s what they did. I knew right off that I’d found my kind of people, and I joined up. It was glorious! No uniforms, no marching on an empty stomach to where some fool general wants you to go, no drilling, no sir! You jump on your horse and head out with a bunch of your fellows and go find the fighting.”
Tony’s black eyes sparkled with excitement. Alex’s matched them. The Fontaines had always loved a good fight. And hated discipline.
“What are the Indians like?” asked one of the Tarleton girls. “Do they really torture people?”
“You don’t want to hear about that,” said Tony, his laughing eyes suddenly dull. Then he smiled. “They’re smart as paint when it comes to fighting. The Rangers learned early on that if they were going to beat the red devils, they’d have to learn their way of doing things. Why, we can track a man or an animal across bare rock or even water, better than any hound dog. And live on spit and bleached bones if that’s all there is. There’s nothing can beat a Texas Ranger or get away from him.”
“Show everybody your six-shooters, Tony,” urged Alex.
“Aw, not now. Tomorrow, maybe, or the next day. Sally don’t want me putting holes in her walls.”
“I didn’t say shoot them, I said show them.” Alex grinned at his friends. “They’ve got carved ivory handles,” he boasted, “and just wait till my little brother rides over to visit you on the big old Western saddle of his. It’s got so much silver on it you’ll half go blind from the shine of it.”
Scarlett smiled. She might have known. Tony and Alex had always been the most dandified men in all North Georgia. Tony obviously hadn’t changed a bit. High heels on fancy boots and silver on his saddle. She’d be willing to bet he came home with his pockets as empty as when he left on the run from the hangman. It was major foolishness to have silver saddles when the house at Mimosa really needed a new roof. But for Tony it was right. It meant that he was still Tony. And Alex was as proud of him as if he’d come with a wagon-load of gold. How she loved them, both of them! They might be left with nothing but a farm that they had to work themselves, but the Yankees hadn’t beaten the Fontaines, they hadn’t even been able to put a dent in them.
“Lord, wouldn’t the boys have loved to prance around tall as a tree and polish silver with their bottoms,” said Beatrice Tarleton. “I can see the twins now, they’d just eat it up.”
Scarlett caught her breath. Why did Mrs. Tarleton have to ruin everything that way? Why ruin such a happy time by reminding everybody that almost all of their old friends were dead?
But nothing was ruined. “They wouldn’t be able to keep their saddles for a week, Miss Beatrice, you know that,” Alex said. “They’d either lose them in a poker game or sell them to buy champagne for a party that was running out of steam. Remember when Brent sold all the furniture in his room at the University and bought dollar cigars for all the boys who’d never tried smoking?”
“And when Stuart lost his dress suit cutting cards and had to skulk away from that cotillion wrapped in a rug?” Tony added.
“Remember when they pawned Boyd’s law books?” said Jim Tarleton. “I thought you’d skin them alive, Beatrice.”
“They always grew back the skin,” Mrs. Tarleton said, smiling. “I tried to break their legs when they set the ice house on fire, but they ran too fast for me to catch them.”
“That was the time they came over to Lovejoy and hid in our barn,” said Sally.
Tony’s black eyes sparkled with excitement. Alex’s matched them. The Fontaines had always loved a good fight. And hated discipline.
“What are the Indians like?” asked one of the Tarleton girls. “Do they really torture people?”
“You don’t want to hear about that,” said Tony, his laughing eyes suddenly dull. Then he smiled. “They’re smart as paint when it comes to fighting. The Rangers learned early on that if they were going to beat the red devils, they’d have to learn their way of doing things. Why, we can track a man or an animal across bare rock or even water, better than any hound dog. And live on spit and bleached bones if that’s all there is. There’s nothing can beat a Texas Ranger or get away from him.”
“Show everybody your six-shooters, Tony,” urged Alex.
“Aw, not now. Tomorrow, maybe, or the next day. Sally don’t want me putting holes in her walls.”
“I didn’t say shoot them, I said show them.” Alex grinned at his friends. “They’ve got carved ivory handles,” he boasted, “and just wait till my little brother rides over to visit you on the big old Western saddle of his. It’s got so much silver on it you’ll half go blind from the shine of it.”
Scarlett smiled. She might have known. Tony and Alex had always been the most dandified men in all North Georgia. Tony obviously hadn’t changed a bit. High heels on fancy boots and silver on his saddle. She’d be willing to bet he came home with his pockets as empty as when he left on the run from the hangman. It was major foolishness to have silver saddles when the house at Mimosa really needed a new roof. But for Tony it was right. It meant that he was still Tony. And Alex was as proud of him as if he’d come with a wagon-load of gold. How she loved them, both of them! They might be left with nothing but a farm that they had to work themselves, but the Yankees hadn’t beaten the Fontaines, they hadn’t even been able to put a dent in them.
“Lord, wouldn’t the boys have loved to prance around tall as a tree and polish silver with their bottoms,” said Beatrice Tarleton. “I can see the twins now, they’d just eat it up.”
Scarlett caught her breath. Why did Mrs. Tarleton have to ruin everything that way? Why ruin such a happy time by reminding everybody that almost all of their old friends were dead?
But nothing was ruined. “They wouldn’t be able to keep their saddles for a week, Miss Beatrice, you know that,” Alex said. “They’d either lose them in a poker game or sell them to buy champagne for a party that was running out of steam. Remember when Brent sold all the furniture in his room at the University and bought dollar cigars for all the boys who’d never tried smoking?”
“And when Stuart lost his dress suit cutting cards and had to skulk away from that cotillion wrapped in a rug?” Tony added.
“Remember when they pawned Boyd’s law books?” said Jim Tarleton. “I thought you’d skin them alive, Beatrice.”
“They always grew back the skin,” Mrs. Tarleton said, smiling. “I tried to break their legs when they set the ice house on fire, but they ran too fast for me to catch them.”
“That was the time they came over to Lovejoy and hid in our barn,” said Sally.
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