Dead Man's Walk

When the Texans entered Lady Carey’s room they were shocked to see Matilda Roberts, pink-faced, and with wet hair, in a clean white smock, sitting on a stool eating biscuits.

Beside her, in a chair, was the lady in black, the one who had sung so movingly over their fallen friends. Gus had hoped to get a glimpse of her face, but he was disappointed: Lady Carey was triply veiled, and the veils were black. Nothing showed at all, not her hair, not her face, not her feet, which were in sharp-toed black boots. Call supposed the woman’s face must be badly eaten up, else why would she cover herself so completely? He could get no hint even of the color of her eyes. Yet she was eating when they came in, eating a small thing that seemed to be mostly bread. When Lady Carey wanted to eat, she tilted her head forward slightly, and slipped the little bite of bread under the three veils—just for a second he saw a flash of white teeth, and a bit of chin, which seemed unblemished.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Lady Carey said, in a low, friendly voice. “When I’m hungry I have no ma

“It blows, don’t it?” Long Bill said—he was surprised that he had been able to utter a word, to such a great lady. They were in a large room whose walls had been hung with patterned cloth. The two windows were tightly shuttered. In one corner was a large, four-poster bed with a little dog sitting on it; beside it was a smaller bed where Willy slept.

“Certainly does—it blows,” Lady Carey said. “Eat, gentlemen. Don’t be shy. I expect it’s been awhile since you’ve sat down to a tea such as this.”

Lady Carey’s hands, too, were gloved in black—she reached down with two gloved fingers, took another small piece of the bread, and popped it under the veils and into her mouth.

Gus felt that it was his turn to speak—he had been about to address Lady Carey when Long Bill rudely jumped in ahead of him, and only to make a pointless comment about the wind. Before them on the table was an array of food, and all of it was rather small food, it seemed to him: there were little pieces of bread, cut quite square, with what seemed like slices of cucumber stuck between the squares of bread. Then there were biscuits and muffins, and larger, harder muffins with raisins stuck in them: he thought those might be the things called scones that Willy had referred to. Besides the various muffins and biscuits there were little ears of corn, with a saucer of butter and salt to dip them in; there were tomatoes and apricots and figs, and a plate of tiny fish that proved very salty to the taste. Gus had every intention of saying something complimentary about the food, but something about Lady Carey intimidated him, preventing him from getting even a word out of his mouth. He looked at her and opened his mouth, but then instead of speaking, put a bit of biscuit in his mouth and ate it.

The Texans were shy in the begi

“Lord, that’s sweet,” Gus said. None of the Texans had ever tasted pure sugar before. They were amazed by the sweetness it imparted to the tea.

“Oh well … that’s the nature of sugar,” Lady Carey said. She, too, was having tea, but instead of drinking it from a cup, she was sipping it through a hollow reed of some kind, which she delicately inserted under her veils.

“This was refined by my chemist, the learned Doctor Gilley,” Lady Carey said. “It came from sugarcane grown on my plantation, in the islands. I do think it’s very good sugar.”

“That’s where Mamma caught leprosy,” Willy said. “On our plantation. I didn’t catch it and neither did Emerald and neither did Mrs. Chubb.”

“Poor luck, I was the only one afflicted,” Lady Carey said.

“Well, Papa might have had it, but we don’t know, because the Mexicans shot him first,” Willy said. “That’s when we were made prisoners of war—when they shot Papa.”

“Now, Willy—these gentlemen have traveled a long way and lost many friends themselves,” Lady Carey said. “We needn’t burden them with our misfortunes.”

“I lost my Shad,” Matilda said. “It was a stray bullet, too. If he’d been sitting anywhere else I expect he’d still be alive.”

“Well, Matty, that’s not for sure,” Gus said. “We walked a far piece, after that, through all that cold weather.”

“Cold wouldn’t have kilt my Shad,” Matilda said. “I would have hugged him and kept him warm.”

“It is cold in our castle,” Willy said. “There aren’t many fires. But we have ca

“That depends on these gentlemen,” Lady Carey said. “We’ll discuss it as soon as they’ve finished their tea. It’s very impolite to discuss business while one’s guests are enjoying their food.”

“We can talk now, I guess,” Call said. “If you’ve a plan for leaving here, I’m for talking now.”

“Fine, there’s nothing left but the cucumber sandwiches anyway,” Lady Carey said. “I suppose cucumbers are not much valued in Texas, but we Scots have a fine appetite for them. Come help me, Willy, and you too, Mrs. Chubb. Let’s finish off the sandwiches and plan our expedition.”

Call was enjoying the breads and muffins and fruit. Everything he put in his mouth was tasty, particularly the small, buttery ears of corn. After the cold, dry trip they had made, across the prairies and the desert, it seemed a miracle that they had come through safe and were eating such food in the company of an English lady, her servants, and her little boy. He was startled, though, when she mentioned an expedition. The country around El Paso was as harsh as any he had seen. Five Rangers, four women, and a boy wouldn’t stand much chance, not unless the Mexican army was pla

“First, we need proper introductions,” Lady Carey said. “I’m Lucinda Carey, this is Mrs. Chubb, this is Emerald, and this is Willy. You know our names, but we don’t know yours. Could you tell us your names, please?”

Gus immediately told the lady that his name was Augustus McCrae. He was determined that Long Bill Coleman not be the first to speak to the fine lady who had fed them such delicious food.

“Why, Willy, he’s Scot, like us,” Lady Carey said. “I expect we’re cousins, twenty times removed, Mr. McCrae.”

The news perked Gus up immediately. The other Rangers introduced themselves—Woodrow Call was last. Long Bill took it upon himself to introduce Brognoli, whose head was still swinging back and forth, regular as the ticking of the clock. None of them knew how to behave to a lady—Long Bill attempted a little bow, but Lady Carey didn’t appear to notice. She divided the cucumber sandwiches between herself, Mrs. Chubb, and Willy, who ate them avidly.

All the while Emerald, the tall Negress, stood watching, near the bed. The little dog had gone to sleep and was snoring loudly.

“Throw a pillow at him, Willy—why must we hear those snores?” Lady Carey said, when the last cucumber sandwich was gone. Willy immediately grabbed three pillows off a red settee and threw them at the sleeping dog, which whuffed, woke up, shook itself, and ran off the bed into Lady Carey’s arms.

“This is George—he’s a smelly beast,” Lady Carey said. The little dog was frantically attempting to lick her, but the best he could do was lick her black gloves.