43

EVIL MEN AND EVIL DEEDS

THE THREE LOOKOUT SCOUTS STANDING inside the tavern were the last of several hired scoundrels paid to patrol the roadways in search of the runaway slave with distinctive features and clarity of speech. The foreman heading the search teams had owned up to his failure. Not locating Lilly for the Dutchman was causing him more aggravation as the days stretched into weeks.

“It’s time to scout the farms and plantations between here and the wharf. She couldn’t have gotten far. Those boys said she was bleedin’ pretty bad.” The gruff man stood in front of a tavern table not far from a table occupied by the Dutchman, who had hired him to do his dirty work. He spoke hesitantly, with anxious eyes on the evil man seated alone in the dimly lit tavern, polishing off the half-empty bottle of Scotch.

“You three just do what I paid you to do and quit mealy-mouthing about how all your good-for-nothing hired hands managed to mess up!” He snorted and pounded his fist on the table for emphasis. Startled patrons throughout the tavern looked his way. The hired men darted out of the tavern to complete their mission.

The foreman remained standing but awkwardly glanced around the tavern. He was on a clandestine mission on the wake of a murder that had just taken place in Savannah. This mission was becoming dangerous, and he had a family to protect from the outlandish exploits of the notorious Dutchman, who was now glaring at him from steely eyes.

“I’ll start right away, boss.” The man turned abruptly and rushed out of the tavern to mount his horse.

Two of Nadine’s watchdogs had been standing outside while listening through an open side window. They nodded to each other. In a whisper, one said, “Let’s go. We need to report this meeting. That’s Gabe Philips, who trades near here. He’s fierce and not one to reckon with in these parts.”

Just as they were about to embark on their secret mission, the double doors of the tavern swung open with a bang. The Dutchman appeared in his drunken stupor and squinted before staggering into the bright light of the noonday sun. He placed his hat on his head before continuing, which gave the two watchdogs plenty of time to disappear into the crowded street.

* * *

The Dutchman had no sooner appeared than a private carriage pulled up to greet him. He staggered slightly before a footman jumped from behind to assist him into the cab. As they drove away, two other watchdogs followed from a single-horse buggy. The trail of the Dutchman took them just around the corner from the Dutchman’s favorite tavern. It showed the arrogance of the man who thought he could get away with murder and not need to change his pattern or alter his ways to keep from being found. After all, the only person who could point a finger at him was fried to a crisp. After violating the infamous Lady Genevieve Richardson in the deepest part of the forest, he strangled her to death with his own bare hands before dowsing her limp body with kerosene to set on fire. He considered it a fitting death for the greedy witch with a lovely neck stuck in other people’s business once too often. His only regret was that she had stashed his money before she met her demise. He would need to pay a visit to her Irish immigrants before the mission was accomplished. The smell of blood was in the air, and he was close to the ultimate human trophy. He headed into the Traveler’s Inn to capture some sleep. The other business would have to wait. Murder and rape usually had a way of energizing him, but the bottle of Scotch needed to be slept off before the rest of his evil deeds could be completed. During his drunken stupor, he vowed to stop at nothing to get his prize.