The next pair of ragged veterans to gather at Blackthorn Hall are men who always preferred to settle matters at considerably shorter range. Both had served with the 27th Virginia Cavalry, both had survived the collapse of the Confederacy, and both had learned during the war that when fighting moved into farmyards, lanes, barns and buildings, a shotgun could be a far more persuasive weapon than any amount of elegant cavalry doctrine. The call of Lucien Beauregard Saint Clair has brought them back to the old circle once again, older, poorer and rather less impressed by grand causes than they had been in their youth.

Hiram Ambrose Rucker

Hiram Ambrose Rucker had worked around horse yards and livestock markets before the war and joined the 27th with a borrowed saddle, a doubtful horse and a confidence in his own abilities that somehow survived both. He was never a particularly accurate shot at distance, but once the fighting became close his heavy double barrelled shotgun made accuracy a considerably less important consideration.

Rucker soon developed a reputation for being the man to send into barns, farmhouses and narrow lanes where cavalry tactics had ceased to have much meaning. He survived several encounters by firing both barrels at distances where missing would have required considerable effort, after which he generally relied upon profanity and a very large knife until somebody gave him enough time to reload.

After the war he returned to horse dealing and discovered that peace had not made him noticeably more honest. For several years he drifted between livestock markets, questionable card games and business arrangements in which ownership of the horse being sold was sometimes open to interpretation. He eventually heard that old men of the 27th were gathering at Blackthorn Hall and arrived without waiting for a formal invitation, bringing his shotgun, two bottles of whiskey and a horse of uncertain provenance.

Rucker claims that he returned because he was curious, although nobody who knows him believes curiosity alone would have carried him that far. The truth is probably simpler, because Blackthorn Hall offered him familiar faces, familiar arguments and the possibility of once again belonging to something larger than his next horse deal.

Edmund Lee Garnett

Edmund Lee Garnett came from a Virginia family that had once possessed considerable standing but considerably less money, leaving Edmund with the manners of a gentleman and the finances of somebody who could rarely afford to behave like one. He joined the 27th determined to restore something of the family reputation and discovered very quickly that war cared remarkably little for pedigree.

Garnett became a dependable cavalryman and developed a particular fondness for the shotgun during the increasingly confused actions of the final campaigns. His calm manner concealed a willingness to fight at unpleasantly close range, while his habit of apologising before firing became one of the regiment’s stranger traditions and did very little to comfort the men on the receiving end.

The years after the surrender were not kind to him, and he eventually made a living as a professional gambler, relying upon good manners, a respectable coat and the tendency of other men to underestimate somebody who spoke softly. Lucien’s invitation to Blackthorn Hall offered him something gambling never could, namely a return to a world in which the Garnett name, the Saint Clair name and the memory of the old regiment still carried weight.

Garnett remains unfailingly polite around Blackthorn Hall, even when discussing matters that would persuade most visitors to leave by the nearest door. He has also learned that Lucien’s hospitality comes with certain complications, particularly when some of the men sitting around the fire appear to belong to a generation that should no longer be attending reunions.

Hiram Rucker and Edmund Garnett give Lucien’s growing force the sort of brutal close range firepower that the old cavalrymen understand instinctively. Neither man has much interest in firing carefully from a distant hillside when a shotgun and a few yards of open ground will settle the matter more quickly, and both are particularly useful when Lucien’s business carries the posse into buildings, narrow streets or places where mounted manoeuvre is no longer an option.

For all their differences, the two men have found Blackthorn Hall disturbingly easy to settle back into. Rucker treats the strange noises, empty graves and unfamiliar riders with the same indifference he once applied to stolen horses, while Garnett prefers not to ask questions that might require impolite answers, and between them they have reached the practical conclusion that whatever Lucien Saint Clair is building, a pair of loaded shotguns will probably remain useful.