underscore the high skirling of the melody itself. It was beautifully played, and by the time he finished, there were many who were weeping.
After the interment, Falcon and Duff, who was still wearing his kilts, invited Lucy to have lunch with them.
“If we can have it at Fiddler’s Green,” she said. “I know that Biff had the cook do something special today to honor Annie.”
“That’s fine with me,” Falcon replied. “Duff?”
“Aye. I can think of no place I’d rather be right now,” he said.
When they returned to Fiddler’s Green, it was draped in black bunting. A sign on the front said, “IN MEMORIAM, MALTILDA ANN GILBERT, OUR ANNIE.”
Biff brought the meal to the table: roast beef, mashed potatoes, green beans, and freshly baked bread. When Duff and Falcon attempted to pay for it, Biff held out his hand and shook his head.
“No. This is for Annie,” he said. “But, if you don’t mind, I’ll be taking my dinner with you as well.”
“We don’t mind at all,” Duff said. “’Tis welcome company you’ll be.”
“I left my plate on the bar. I didn’t want to presume,” Biff said. He stepped back to the bar, then returned with his own plate.
“Tell me, Biff, why do you call this place Fiddler’s Green? Have you fiddlers who play here from time to time?” Duff asked.
“Colonel MacCallister, suppose you tell him about Fiddler’s Green. I know you know what it means.”
“Colonel MacCallister?” Falcon looked across the table at Biff for a moment, then he smiled and snapped his fingers. “You are Sergeant Johnson! You were with Custer at Ft. Lincoln!”
Biff smiled and nodded his head. “I knew you would remember it,” he said. “I was in D troop with Benteen.”
“No wonder you call this place Fiddler’s Green.”
“I still don’t know what it means,” Duff said.
“It’s something the cavalrymen believe,” Falcon said. “Anyone who has ever heard the bugle call ‘Boots and Saddles’ will, when they die, go to a cool, shady place by a stream of sweet water. There, they will see all the other cavalrymen who have gone before them, and they will greet those who come after them as they await the final judgment. That place is called Fiddler’s Green.”
“Do they really believe that?” Lucy asked.
“Why not?” Falcon replied. “If heaven is whatever you want it to be, who is to say that cavalrymen wouldn’t want to be with their own kind?”
“I like the idea,” Duff said.
“Many is the time we went into battle with the promise to a friend to be waiting at Fiddler’s Green,” Biff Johnson said. “I’ve many friends there now, waiting for me, and I’ve no doubt but that Custer and his brother Tom and Captains Calhoun and Keogh are there now.”
“And Isaiah Dorman,” Falcon added.
“Custer’s black scout,” Biff said. “That’s right; he was a friend of yours, wasn’t he?”
“He was indeed.”
“’Tis a good thing to hold on to,” Duff said. “I’ve many friends of my own who were killed in battle. Perhaps they have found their way there as well.”
“If they were good men, warriors who died in battle, you need have no doubt about it. My lads will invite them over, to sit and visit,” Biff said.
“I hope they behave like gentlemen when they see Annie,” Lucy said.
“You need not trouble yourself, Lucy,” Biff said. “All in Fiddler’s Green are gentlemen.”
“Tell me what you knew about the lass we buried this morning,” Duff said.
Biff shook his head. “I’m sorry to say that I know very little about her. She came into town on the stagecoach one day, came straight here from the stage depot, and asked me for a job. She was attractive and had a good sense of humor. The men liked her. I was glad to see that the whole town turned out for her funeral, but I wasn’t all that surprised. We are very isolated out here, and to a degree each one of us is dependent upon the other.”
“She was from Memphis,” Lucy said. “She had married into one of the wealthiest families there, but she was raped one night while her husband was out drinking. The rapist was one of her husband’s friends, but her husband blamed her and said he couldn’t live with her anymore because she was soiled. So she decided that if she was going to have the name, she would have the game. She came here with the specific intention of becoming a soiled dove.”
“I thought it might be something like that,” Biff said. “All of you girls had lives before you came here. I’ve never tried to find out, because I’ve always thought that you deserved some privacy.”
“We know that, Mr. Johnson. And we appreciate you respecting us in that way.”
After they finished eating, Duff and Falcon went down to the R. W. Guthrie Lumber and Building Supplies Company. There, they were met by the owner, a short, stout man with a round face and a somewhat oversized nose. Guthrie took Duff and Falcon out into his lumberyard to show them what he had.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “I’ve got everything you might need to build a house, from the studding, to the outside planking, to the inside walls and floor. I’ve got the roof trusses, the roof shingles, doors, and windows. I’ve got all the nails you will need.”
“That is good to know,” Duff said.
