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                            KITTY'S CONQUEST.

                         BY CHARLES KING, U.S.A.,

                    AUTHOR OF "THE COLONEL'S DAUGHTER."


    PHILADELPHIA:
    J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
    1890.

    Copyright. 1884, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.




PREFACE.


The incidents of this little story occurred some twelve years ago, and
it was then that the story was mainly written.

If it meet with half the kindness bestowed upon his later work it will
more than fulfil the hopes of

     THE AUTHOR.

February, 1884.




KITTY'S CONQUEST.




CHAPTER I.


It was just after Christmas, and discontentedly enough I had left my
cosy surroundings in New Orleans, to take a business-trip through the
counties on the border-line between Tennessee and northern Mississippi
and Alabama. One sunny afternoon I found myself on the "freight and
passenger" of what was termed "The Great Southern Mail Route." We had
been trundling slowly, sleepily along ever since the conductor's "all
aboard!" after dinner; had met the Mobile Express at Corinth when the
shadows were already lengthening upon the ruddy, barren-looking
landscape, and now, with Iuka just before us, and the warning whistle of
the engine shrieking in our ears with a discordant pertinacity attained
only on our Southern railroads, I took a last glance at the sun just
disappearing behind the distant forest in our wake, drew the last
breath of life, from my cigar, and then, taking advantage of the halt at
the station, strolled back from the dinginess of the smoking-car to more
comfortable quarters in the rear.

There were only three passenger-cars on the train, and, judging from the
scarcity of occupants, one would have been enough. Elbowing my way
through the gaping, lazy swarms of unsavory black humanity on the
platform, and the equally repulsive-looking knots of "poor white trash,"
the invariable features of every country stopping-place south of Mason
and Dixon, I reached the last car, and entering, chose one of a dozen
empty seats, and took a listless look at my fellow-passengers,--six in
all,--and of them, two only worth a second glance.

One, a young, perhaps very young, lady, so girlish, _petite_, and pretty
she looked even after the long day's ride in a sooty car. Her seat was
some little distance from the one into which I had dropped, but that was
because the other party to be depicted was installed within two of her,
and, with that indefinable sense of repulsion which induces all
travellers, strangers to one another, to get as far apart as possible on
entering a car, I had put four seats 'twixt him and me,--and afterwards
wished I hadn't.

It _was_ rude to turn and stare at a young girl,--travelling alone, too,
as she appeared to be. I did it involuntarily the first time, and found
myself repeating the performance again and again, simply because I
couldn't help it,--she looked prettier and prettier every time.

A fair, oval, tiny face; a somewhat supercilious nose, and
not-the-least-so mouth; a mouth, on the contrary, that even though its
pretty lips were closed, gave one the intangible yet positive assurance
of white and regular teeth; eyes whose color I could not see because
their drooping lids were fringed with heavy curving lashes, but which
subsequently turned out to be a soft, dark gray; and hair!--hair that
made one instinctively gasp with admiration, and exclaim (mentally), "If
it's _only_ real!"--hair that rose in heavy golden masses above and
around the diminutive ears, almost hiding them from view, and fell in
braids (not braids either, because it _wasn't_ braided) and rolls--only
that sounds breakfasty--and masses again,--it must do for both,--heavy
golden masses and rolls and waves and straggling offshoots and
disorderly delightfulness all down the little lady's neck, and, landing
in a lump on the back of the seat, seemed to come surging up to the top
again, ready for another tumble.

It looked as though it hadn't been "fixed" since the day before, and yet
as though it would be a shame to touch it; and was surmounted, "sat
upon," one might say, by the jauntiest of little travelling hats of some
dark material (don't expect a bachelor, and an elderly one at that, to
be explicit on such a point), this in turn being topped by the pertest
little mite of a feather sticking bolt upright from a labyrinth of
beads, bows, and buckles at the side.

More of this divinity was not to be viewed from my post of observation,
as all below the fragile white throat with its dainty collar and the
handsome fur "boa," thrown loosely back on account of the warmth of the
car, was undergoing complete occultation by the seats in front; yet
enough was visible to impress one with a longing to become acquainted
with the diminutive entirety, and to convey an idea of cultivation and
refinement somewhat unexpected on that particular train, and in that
utterly unlovely section of the country.

Naturally I wondered who she was; where she was going; how it happened
that she, so young, so innocent, so be-petted and be-spoilt in
appearance, should be journeying alone through the thinly settled
counties of upper Mississippi. Had she been a "through" passenger, she
would have taken the express, not this grimy, stop-at-every-shanty,
slow-going old train on which we were creeping eastward.

In fact, the more I peeped, the more I marvelled; and I found myself
almost unconsciously inaugurating a detective movement with a view to
ascertaining her identity.

All this time mademoiselle was apparently serenely unconscious of my
scrutiny and deeply absorbed in some object--a book, probably--in her
lap. A stylish Russia-leather satchel was hanging among the hooks above
her head,--evidently her property,--and those probably, too, were her
initials in monogram, stamped in gilt upon the flap, too far off for my
fading eyes to distinguish, yet tantalizingly near.

Now I'm a lawyer, and as such claim an indisputable right to exercise
the otherwise feminine prerogative of yielding to curiosity. It's our
business to be curious; not with the sordid views and mercenary intents
of Templeton Jitt; but rather as Dickens's "Bar" was curious,--affably,
apologetically, professionally curious. In fact, as "Bar" himself said,
"we lawyers _are_ curious," and take the same lively interest in the
affairs of our fellow-men (and women) as maiden aunts are popularly
believed to exercise in the case of a pretty niece with a dozen beaux,
or a mother-in-law in the daily occupations of the happy husband of her
eldest daughter. Why need I apologize further? I left my seat;
zig-zagged down the aisle; took a drink of water which I didn't want,
and, returning, the long look at the monogram which I _did_.

There they were, two gracefully intertwining letters; a "C" and a "K."
Now was it C. K. or K. C.? If C. K., what did it stand for?

I thought of all manner of names as I regained my seat; some pretty,
some tragic, some commonplace, none satisfactory. Then I concluded to
begin over; put the cart before the horse, and try K. C.

Now, it's ridiculous enough to confess to it, but Ku-Klux was the first
thing I thought of; K. C. didn't stand for it at all, but Ku-Klux
_would_ force itself upon my imagination. Well, everything _was_ Ku-Klux
just then. Congress was full of them; so was the South;--Ku-Klux had
brought me up there; in fact I had spent most of the afternoon in
planning an elaborate line of defence for a poor devil whom I knew to be
innocent, however blood-guilty might have been his associates. Ku-Klux
had brought that lounging young cavalryman (the other victim reserved
for description), who--confound him--had been the cause of my taking a
metaphorical back seat and an actual front one on entering the car; but
Ku-Klux couldn't have brought _her_ there; and after all, what business
had I bothering my tired brains over this young beauty? I was nothing to
her, why should she be such a torment to me?

In twenty minutes we would be due at Sandbrook, and there I was to leave
the train and jog across the country to the plantation of Judge Summers,
an old friend of my father's and of mine, who had written me to visit
him on my trip, that we might consult together over some intricate
cases that of late had been occupying his attention in that vicinity. In
fact, I was too elderly to devote so much thought and speculation to a
damsel still in her teens, so I resolutely turned eyes and tried to turn
thoughts to something else.

The lamps were being lighted, and the glare from the one overhead fell
full upon my other victim, the cavalryman. I knew him to be such from
the crossed sabres in gold upon his jaunty forage cap, and the heavy
army cloak which was muffled cavalier-like over his shoulders,
displaying to vivid advantage its gorgeous lining of canary color, yet
completely concealing any interior garments his knightship might be
pleased to wear.

Something in my contemplation of this young warrior amused me to that
extent that I wondered he had escaped more than a casual glance before.
Lolling back in his seat, with a huge pair of top boots spread out upon
the cushion in front, he had the air, as the French say, of thorough
self-appreciation and superiority; he was gazing dreamily up at the lamp
overhead and whistling softly to himself, with what struck me forcibly
as an affectation of utter nonchalance; what struck me still more
forcibly was that he did not once look at the young beauty so close
behind him; on the contrary, there was an evident attempt on his part
to appear sublimely indifferent to her presence.

Now that's very unusual in a young man under the circumstances, isn't
it? I had an idea that these Charles O'Malleys were heart-smashers; but
this conduct hardly tallied with any of my preconceived notions on the
subject of heart-smashing, and greatly did I marvel and conjecture as to
the cause of this extraordinary divergence from the manners and customs
of young men,--soldiers in particular, when, of a sudden, Mars arose,
threw off his outer vestment, emerged as it were from a golden glory of
yellow shelter-tent; discovered a form tall, slender, graceful, and
erect, the whole clad in a natty shell-jacket and riding-breeches;
stalked up to the stove in the front of the car; produced, filled, and
lighted a smoke-begrimed little meerschaum; opened the door with a snap;
let himself out with a bang; and disappeared into outer darkness.

Looking quickly around, I saw that the fair face of C. K. or K. C. was
uplifted; furthermore, that there was an evident upward tendency on the
part of the aforementioned supercilious nose, entirely out of proportion
with the harmonious and combined movement of the other features;
furthermore, that the general effect was that of maidenly displeasure;
and, lastly, that the evident object of such divine wrath was, beyond
all peradventure, the vanished knight of the sabre.

"Now, my lad," thought I, "what have you done to put your foot in it?"

Just then the door reopened, and in came, not Mars, but the conductor;
and that functionary, proceeding direct to where she sat, thus addressed
the pretty object of my late cogitations (I didn't listen, but I heard):

"It'll be all right, miss. I telegraphed the judge from Iuka, and reckon
he'll be over with the carriage to meet you; but if he nor none of the
folks ain't there, I'll see that you're looked after all right. Old Jake
Biggs'll be there, most like, and then you're sure of getting over to
the judge's to-night anyhow."

Here I pricked up my ears. Beauty smilingly expressed her gratitude,
and, in smiling, corroborated my theory about the teeth to the most
satisfactory extent.

"The colonel," continued the conductor, who would evidently have been
glad of any excuse to talk with her for hours, "the colonel, him and Mr.
Peyton, went over to Holly Springs three days ago; but the smash-up on
the Mississippi Central must have been the cause of their not getting to
the junction in time to meet you. That's why I brought you along on this
train; 'twasn't no use to wait for them there."

"Halloo!" thought I at this juncture, "here's my chance; he means Judge
Summers by 'the judge's,' and 'the colonel' is Harrod Summers, of
course, and Ned Peyton, that young reprobate who has been playing fast
and loose among the marshals and sheriffs, is the Mr. Peyton he speaks
of; and this must be some friend or relative of Miss Pauline's going to
visit her. The gentlemen have been sent to meet her, and have been
delayed by that accident. I'm in luck;" so up I jumped, elbowed the
obliging conductor to one side; raised my hat, and introduced
myself,--"Mr. Brandon, of New Orleans, an old friend of Judge Summers,
on my way to visit him; delighted to be of any service; pray accept my
escort," etc., etc.--all somewhat incoherent, but apparently
satisfactory. Mademoiselle graciously acknowledged my offer; smilingly
accepted my services; gave me a seat by her side; and we were soon
busied in a pleasant chat about "Pauline," her cousin, and "Harrod," her
other cousin and great admiration. Soon I learned that it was K. C.,
that K. C. was Kitty Carrington; that Kitty Carrington was Judge
Summers's niece, and that Judge Summers's niece was going to visit Judge
Summers's niece's uncle; that they had all spent the months of September
and October together in the north when she first returned from abroad;
that she had been visiting "Aunt Mary" in Louisville ever since, and
that "Aunt Mary" had been with her abroad for ever so long, and was just
as good and sweet as she could be. In fact, I was fast learning all my
charming little companion's family history, and beginning to feel
tolerably well acquainted with and immensely proud of her, when the door
opened with a snap, closed with a bang, and, issuing from outer
darkness, re-entered Mars.

Now, when Mars re-entered, he did so pretty much as I have seen his
brother button-wearers march into their company quarters on inspection
morning, with an air of determined ferocity and unsparing criticism; but
when Mars caught sight of me, snugly ensconced beside the only belle on
the train, the air suddenly gave place to an expression of astonishment.
He dropped a gauntlet; picked it up; turned red; and then, with sudden
resumption of lordly indifference, plumped himself down into his seat in
as successful an attempt at expressing "Who cares?" without saying it,
as I ever beheld.

Chancing to look at Miss Kitty, I immediately discovered that a little
cloud had settled upon her fair brow, and detected the nose on another
rise, so said I,--

"What's the matter? Our martial friend seems to have fallen under the
ban of your displeasure," and then was compelled to smile at the
vindictiveness of the reply:

"_He!_ he has indeed! Why, he had the impertinence to speak to me before
you came in; asked me if I was not the Miss Carrington expected at
Judge Summers's; actually offered to escort me there, as the colonel had
failed to meet me!"

"Indeed! Then I suppose I, too, am horribly at fault," said I, laughing,
"for I've done pretty much the same thing?"

"Nonsense!" said Miss Kit. "Can't you understand? He's a Yankee,--a
Yankee officer! You don't suppose I'd allow myself, a Southern girl
whose home was burnt by Yankees and whose only brother fought all
through the war against them,--you don't suppose I'd allow myself to
accept any civility from a Yankee, do you?" and the bright eyes shot a
vengeful glance at the dawdling form in front, and a terrific pout
straightway settled upon her lips.

Amused, yet unwilling to offend, I merely smiled and said that it had
not occurred to me; but immediately asked her how long before my
entrance this had happened.

"Oh, about half an hour; he never made more than one attempt."

"What answer did you give him?"

"Answer!--why! I couldn't say much of anything, you know, but merely
told him I wouldn't trouble him, and said it in such a way that he knew
well enough what was meant. He took the hint quickly enough, and turned
red as fire, and said very solemnly, 'I ask your pardon,' put on his cap
and marched back to his seat." Here came a pretty little imitation of
Mars raising his chin and squaring his shoulders as he walked off.

I smiled again, and then began to think it all over. Mars was a total
stranger to me. I had never seen him before in my life, and, so long as
we remained on an equal footing as strangers to the fair K. C., I had
been disposed to indulge in a little of the usual jealousy of "military
interference," and, from my exalted stand-point as a man of the world
and at least ten years his senior in age, to look upon him as a boy with
no other attractions than his buttons and a good figure; but Beauty's
answer set me to thinking. I was a Yankee, too, only she didn't know it;
if she had, perhaps Mars would have stood the better chance of the two.
I, too, had borne arms against the Sunny South (as a valiant militia-man
when the first call came in '61), and had only escaped wearing the
uniform she detested from the fact that our regimental rig was gray, and
my talents had never conspired to raise me above the rank of
lance-corporal. I, too, had participated in the desecration of the
"sacred soil" (digging in the hot sun at the first earthworks we threw
up across the Long Bridge); in fact, if she only knew it, there was
probably more reason, more real cause, for resentment against me, than
against the handsome, huffy stripling two seats in front.

He was a "Yank," of course; but judging from the smooth, ruddy cheek,
and the downiest of downy moustaches fringing his upper lip, had but
just cut loose from the apron-strings of his maternal West Point. Why!
he must have been at school when we of the old Seventh tramped down
Broadway that April afternoon to the music of "Sky-rockets," half
drowned in stentorian cheers. In fact, I began, in the few seconds it
took me to consider this, to look upon Mars as rather an ill-used
individual. Very probably he was stationed somewhere in the vicinity,
for loud appeals had been made for regular cavalry ever since the year
previous, when the Ku-Klux began their devilment in the neighborhood.
Very probably he knew Judge Summers; visited at his plantation; had
heard of Miss Kitty's coming, and was disposed to show her attention.
Meeting her on the train alone and unescorted, he had done nothing more
than was right in offering his services. He had simply acted as a
gentleman, and been rebuffed. Ah, Miss Kitty, you must, indeed, be very
young, thought I, and so asked,--

"Have you been long in the South since the war, Miss Carrington?"

"I? Oh, no! We lived in Kentucky before the war, and when it broke out
mother took me abroad. I was a little bit of a girl then, and was put at
school in Paris, but mother died very soon afterwards, and then auntie
took charge of me. Why, I only left school last June!"

Poor little Kit! her father had died when she was a mere baby; her
mother before the child had reached her tenth year; their beautiful old
home in Kentucky had been sacked and burned during the war; and George,
her only brother, after fighting for his "Lost Cause" until the last
shot was fired at Appomattox, had gone abroad, married, and settled
there. Much of the large fortune of their father still remained; and
little Kit, now entering upon her eighteenth year, was the ward of Judge
Summers, her mother's brother, and quite an heiress.

All this I learned, partly at the time, principally afterwards from the
judge himself; but meantime there was the rebellious little fairy at my
side with all the hatred and prejudice of ten years ago, little dreaming
how matters had changed since the surrender of her beloved Lee, or
imagining the quantity of oil that had been poured forth upon the
troubled waters.




CHAPTER II.


The "Twenty minutes to Sandbrook" had become involved in difficulty.
Interested in my chat with Kitty, I had failed to notice that we were
stopping even longer than usual at some mysterious locality where there
was even less of any apparent reason for stopping at all. All without
was darkness. I pushed open the window, poked out my head, and took a
survey. All was silence save the hissing of the engine way ahead, and
one or two voices in excited conversation somewhere near the baggage-car
and by the fence at the roadside. Two lights, lanterns apparently, were
flitting rapidly about. I wondered at the delay, but could assign no
cause in reply to the natural question Miss Kit asked as I drew in my
head.

Mars opened his window as I closed mine, looked out a moment, then got
up, gave himself a stretch, and stalked out; this time without slamming
the door; a bang would have been too demonstrative in that oppressive
silence. In one minute he came back with a quick, nervous step, picked
up a belt and holster he had left at his seat, and, without a glance at
us, turned sharply back to the door again. As he disappeared, I saw his
hand working at the butt of the revolver swung at his hip. Something was
wrong. I knew that the Ku-Klux had been up to mischief in that vicinity,
and the thought flashed upon me that they were again at work. Looking
around, I saw that three of our four fellow-passengers had disappeared.
They were ill-favored specimens, for I remembered noticing them just
before we stopped, and remarked that they were talking earnestly and in
low tones together at the rear end of the car. The other passenger was
an old lady, spectacled and rheumatic. Without communicating my
suspicions to my little charge, I excused myself; stepped quietly out;
swung off the car, and stumbled up the track toward the lights.

A group of six or eight men was gathered at the baggage-car. About the
same number were searching along the fence, all talking excitedly. I
hailed a brakeman and asked what was the matter.

"Ku-Klux, sir! Tried to rob the express! There was two of them in mask
jumped in with their pistols and belted the agent over the head and laid
him out; but afore they could get into the safe, the baggage-master, Jim
Dalton, came in, and he yelled and went for 'em. We was running slow up
grade, and they jumped off; Jim and the conductor after them; that's
why we stopped and backed down."

"Which way did they go?" I asked.

"Took right into the bush, I reckon. That lieutenant and another feller
has gone in through here, and Bill here says he seen three other fellers
light out from the back car,--the one you was in, sir. That's enough to
catch them if they're on the trail."

"Catch them!" I exclaimed. "Those three men in our car were of the same
gang, if anything, and that makes five to our four."

"Yes, by G--d!" said another of the party, a sturdy-looking planter;
"and what's more, I believe they've got a ranch in hereabouts and belong
to Hank Smith's gang. There ain't a meaner set of cut-throats in all
Dixie."

"Then, for heaven's sake, let's go in and hunt up our party!" said I,
really apprehensive as to their safety. Three or four volunteered at
once. Over the fence we went, and on into the pitchy darkness beyond.
Stumbling over logs and cracking sticks and leaves, squashing through
mud-holes and marshy ground, we plunged ahead, until a minute or two
brought us panting into a comparatively open space, and there we paused
to listen. Up to this time I had heard not a sound from the pursuit, and
hardly knew which way to turn. Each man held his breath and strained his
ears.

Another minute and it came,--well on to the front,--a yell, a shot,
another shot, and then,--"This way!" "This way!" "Here they are!" The
rest was drowned by our own rush, as we once more plunged into the
thicket and on towards the shouts. All of us were armed in one way or
another,--it is rare enough that any man goes otherwise in that section
of the country,--and to me there was a terrible excitement about the
whole affair, and my heart came bounding up to my throat with every
stride.

One or two more shots were heard, and on we kept until, just as every
man was almost breathless and used up, we were brought to a sudden stop
on the steep bank of a bayou that stretched far