“I knew. That’s enough.” The stranger did not back down. “If you order the northbound train’s engineer to stop at Rivington, General Lee, we’ll put aboard the first shipment of rifles and ammunition. That would be, hmm, about twenty-five-hundred weapons, with several magazines’ worth of rounds for each. We can supply as many again the night after that, until your army is fully equipped with new pieces.”

“A hundred thousand rifles would oversupply the Army of Northern Virginia,” Lee said.

“The Confederacy has more armies than yours. Don’t you think General Johnston will be able to use some when General Sherman brings the whole Military Division of the Mississippi down against him come spring?”

“General Grant commands the Military Division of the Mississippi,” Walter Taylor said: “all the Federal troops between the Alleghenies and the river.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right, so he does, for now. My mistake,” Rhoodie said. He turned back to Lee, this time with a hunter’s intent expression on his face. “And don’t you think, General, that Nathan Bedford Forrest’s troopers would enjoy being able to outshoot the Federals as well as outride and outfight them?”

“What I think, sir, is that you are building mighty castles in the air on the strength of a single rifle,” Lee answered. He did not care for the way Andries Rhoodie looked at him, did not care for the arrogant way the man spoke, did not care for anything about him…except for his rifle. If one Southern man could deliver the fire of five or ten Unionists, the odds against which Confederate armies had to fight in every engagement might all at once be set at naught.

Rhoodie still studied him. Lee felt his cheeks go hot, even on this icy winter’s day, for he knew the stranger could see he was tempted. The book of Matthew came into his mind: Again the devil taketh him up into an exceeding high mountain, and sheweth him all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them; And saith unto him, All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me.