THE BETTER PART OF VALOR. Morgan Mackinnon
58
Dedicated to Bvt. Lt. Colonel Myles Walter Keogh, Union Army,
and Captain US Army, Seventh Cavalry—Medaille Pro Petri Sede, Chevalier Ordine di St. Gregorio Magno
Sleep Soldier!
Still in honoured rest
Your truth and valour wearing
The bravest are the tenderest
The loving are the daring.
—Bayard Taylor, 1825–1878
Perhaps the essential lesson to be learned from…studies of Myles Keogh is how well the life of an enigmatic individual serves as a blank sheet to be written upon in whatever form suits the artistic will of the author….his mystique contains the very stuff of which legends are made.
—Myles Keogh: The Life and Legend of an Irish Dragoon, John P. Langellier, Kurt Hamilton Cox, and Brian C. Pohanka, eds.
Cornelia Eliza Martin
February 10, 1840–January 14, 1927
He never knew how much you loved him.
Chapter 1
New York City, April 1875
Although the snowy winter season was over in New York City, April had been what the locals referred to as the kind of month where shop proprietors could ensure the rain would keep their sidewalks filthy with mud for weeks on end. Nearly every day was dismal and dreary, rendering travel unpleasant for man and beast alike. Or should it be said, man, woman, and beast? A strikingly pretty woman of average height, dressed in a brown woolen traveling suit, stood under the marquee at the Metropolitan Hotel waiting anxiously as the doorman tried in vain to flag down an available carriage. Her smart traveling outfit was accented by an elegantly styled brown felt hat with cloth flowers, beige gloves on her delicate hands, and handsome buttoned-up boots. At that particular moment, a tall man dressed in a navy-blue army greatcoat and black slouch hat emerged from the hotel with the apparent intention of also hailing himself a cab.
Despite the efforts of the doorman, the horse-drawn vehicles continued down Broadway without even a glance of recognition from the preoccupied drivers. Consulting a small watch pinned to her jacket, the young woman sighed.
“I’m going to be late. I am going to miss my ship because I’m going to be late.”
The tall soldier could not help but overhear, so he tipped his hat in her direction and asked if he could be of service.
“If you would summon a cab with room for my trunks, I would be greatly indebted, sir.”
The man now noticed a stack of three large steamer trunks behind the young lady. That, in and of itself, was not unusual because fashionable ladies required several trunks of clothing and accessories if they were to travel in style. What was unusual, though, were the woman’s eyes. Vivid violet. The shade of an amethyst crystal. He did not think he’d ever seen such a shade of eyes as these.
Spotting a large carriage approaching, he stepped out into the road and caught the left horse’s bridle. The driver hauled on the reins, cursed, and immediately jumped down.
“Here now! Whaddya feckin’ mean by stoppin’ me, coach? I’ll skin ye fer this!”
The soldier put down a small valise and shrugged off his navy-blue greatcoat, handing it to the doorman who was hovering nervously on the sidewalk. That was when the cab driver saw the epaulets on the man’s shoulders as well as the cavalry sword riding by his left hip. He quickly pulled off his hat.
“Here, I didn’t mean no disrespect. Not to one who fought the Rebs. No, sir! Not Jack Dunn! Kin I offer ye a lift?”
This was much better, and the man indicated he required one trunk to be loaded on the cab as well as the three trunks the young lady owned. Once that had been completed, they should like to be taken to the wharf, specifically where the City of Paris was docked.
The young woman accepted assistance into the carriage by the gloved hand of the soldier, trying to hide a smile as she did so. Once both were seated inside, she studied him.
“How did you know I was going to board the City of Paris?”
Now the soldier removed his hat and bowed toward her. “Madam, anyone going to the docks at this particular time of day for embarkation must be intending to travel on that ship. Have I made an error?”
She admitted he had not. “Then I thank you, sir. I was afraid I would be late since I have not yet purchased my ticket.”
He laughed. “Neither have I. Do you have a reservation?”
The lady smiled. “Yes, yes I do. First-class apartment to Cherbourg and then on to Dublin.”
“I cannot believe my good fortune. I too am traveling on the City of Paris and am incidentally also disembarking in Dublin. I am sorry. I have not introduced myself. I am Lieutenant Colonel Myles Keogh. Formerly of the Army of the Potomac and presently assigned to the regular United States Army.”
Briefly touching his hand, the woman smiled again. “That you are also traveling to Dublin is fortuitous. I am Missus Cresta Leigh, on my way to Ireland to visit a distant relative. I’ve never been to Ireland before.”
The tall soldier, Myles Keogh, studied the woman. She was indeed lovely, and those eyes of hers could play tricks with a man’s mind. From what he could tell, her hair might be red but was tucked up under her bonnet. Red hair and violet eyes. What a strange combination. But cursing his luck, he now knew she was married. His discretion