Deke watched approvingly as the dozens of fresh-faced new recruits lined up for inspection. They’d streamed down into the canyon’s southern—and only—entrance late the day before, in good spirits and ready to begin what Deke had told Shinbone and the others who were out recruiting for the cause was going to be a hell of a second coming. The “Second Rising of the South” was what Deke had actually taken to calling it.
Cooter, the man he’d selected to be a sort of second in command under Shinbone, told him that old Shin had taken Lemuel and Mort and split off from the main group of recruiters. Said they had to go on a secret, special mission for Deke, but that they’d meet them back at the canyon. Coot was surprised that Shin and the boys hadn’t been there when he’d arrived with all the recruits and the wagons of fresh supplies. They’d even managed a few more cases of weapons and ammunition, which they’d left up top, under guard. Said they’d also found some blood near the canyon entrance. Looked to be a scuffle of sorts had taken place.
All this news—the odd little revolt of Rufus and kin, the disappearance of Julep and Slocum, Shinbone’s “secret mission” that Deke had no knowledge of, and then Shin and the boys’ disappearance—why, it made Deke’s head swim. What could it all possibly mean?
He had spent a good hour roving back and forth in the rubble of his wrecked campsite, massaging his bandaged hands. It dawned on him later, hours after he’d trashed the place, that it was as it should be. It was a sign from God telling him to leave the canyon forever, take the arms, lead his people in a mighty uprising against the foul Bluebellies.
And today was the day. He’d see what they were made of, first hauling up all the weapons from the secret cave guarded by his own sons, then they’d cut their teeth in battle against the filthy savage Apaches. Them dropping the rock on Henry’s head let Deke know that they were still around, still playing their Indian games.
And now here he was, inspecting the troops, his troops, and truth be told, he’d seen better. They were a ramshackle lot, straw hats, bare feet, no shirts, lots of corncob pipes, barely a few dozen teeth between the lot of them . . . But he wasn’t about to tell them what disappointments he saw. After all, these people were Southern folk, and when the true test came, as he suspected it would, by gum, they’d show their true worth.
“Now you all have listened to me yammer on for pretty near an hour. And you’re all still here, so I guess that means y’all wanna stick with me.” He eyed them, noticed a few shocked looks, and realized that of course they planned on following him—they’d come all that way, hadn’t they? On nothing more or less than the promise of seeing the South rise again.
Deke cleared his throat and said, “What I mean is . . . it’s time to clear out the stockpile. I’ve had wagons brought over to the cave, and men have been working on loading her up. So you all head on over there and finish off helping, then we’ll get them wagons on up to the top. You’ll note that them wagons is narrow. That’s to get them through those tight spots on the trail heading up to the rim. Now.” He clapped his big hands together and winced at the pain his damaged fingers felt. “Any questions?”
A thin-as-a-reed fellow wagged a big-knuckled hand, then let it drop, as if holding it up was just too dang much work. He ran a few grimy fingertips along the stubble on his chin. “I reckon I could use a biscuit afore I set to work.”
Deke stared at the man. He’d counted on Julep fixing food for them. Now she was gone, Lord knew where. Deke decided to take a hard approach. He rested his big ham hands on his hips and said, “You all get to work! I’ll roust up some vittles for the road. We ain’t got time to waste. Got to catch them Apaches while they’re still denned up like the snakes they are!”
The crowd dispersed slowly. He heard that same man mutter something about biscuits. Deke was about to shout something at the man when another man came up to him, shorter but just as haggard looking, and said, “Don’t see why we got to fight Apaches. I come here to get even with the damn North. Cooter said I’d get to kill me a pile of genuine U.S. Army Bluebellies and get rich in the process. Is that the way she’s gonna run, Cap’n?”
Deke wanted to clout the man for questioning his plans, but he liked that the man called him “Cap’n,” so he let it slide this time. “Yeah, it’s gonna play out just like that. But we got to get them guns up top, or else we’re sunk before we float. Got to deal with the Apaches as a sort of test, make sure the weapons run smooth. Then we head on over to the rail line. U.S. Army runs troops through there all the time, so that’s where we’ll start.”
The man looked convinced, pooched out his lower lip, and nodded. “Sounds good to this ol’ bird dog.” He turned to go, but Deke stopped him.
“Hey, Bird Dog, you know what a Gatlin’ gun is?”
The thin man rubbed his chin. “Seen one once.”
“You like to run one?”
For the first time, the man’s eyes widened. “You mean it?”
Deke nodded, smiling.
“Got me a chance to mow down a pile of Blues all at once.” Bird Dog smacked his callused hands together and grinned. “Yee-haw!”
Deke watched him walk toward the arms cave with the others. For the first time in a couple of days, he felt like he had before Julep left. Once again he felt like maybe his plans were all going to work out. The Second Rising of the South!