Kirby was lost.
He had been caught in a rush of Confederate troops making their way back from Williamsburg and heading for the capital. The band of men had crossed the Chickahominy River further upriver and were falling back to defend Richmond. They were a ragtag bunch that had stood defense under General Longstreet’s rearguard. Those surviving had been cut off in the general retreat and had free ranged thereafter striking where they might at the advancing Union troops until finally breaking through to make the run back to the capital.
‘What’s your name, boy?’ Kirby asked a resting young private sitting propped up against the bole of a tree. The fair-haired boy was not more than nineteen years old, pale faced and looking exhausted. His uniform was torn and ripped from the thorn bushes and he was splashed with mud from head to toe.
He looked up tiredly at Kirby’s question and noted the chevrons on Kirby’s jacket sleeve, ‘Trooper Paul Nightingale, Corp,’
‘What unit?’
‘32nd Virginia originally, though Lord knows where they are now.’
‘It’s been that bad, huh?’ Kirby agreed in a companionable way.
‘Could say, cold and wet mostly. Had nothing but a bite of corn meal and bacon one time this past three days.’
‘That’s tough. Not much fare in this man’s army.’
The soldier chuckled, ‘We did manage a meal from an old lady a week or so back, I can’t rightly remember when. The old biddy charged us fifty cents for supper.’
‘Fair enough, I guess,’ Kirby sympathized.
‘If you got the cash, I ain’t seen the eleven dollars a month I was promised on joining for a while now.’
‘You ain’t alone,’ grinned Kirby. ‘Any idea what lies north of us?’
From him Kirby learnt that the ironclad CSS Virginia had held sway in the York River and had blocked the river from Union forces but was now scuttled allowing free access to the river by the Union navy.
The men were moving off. Not that any one of them was in obvious command but as a united group they just got up and started out as if some unseen commander had given them the word.
‘You coming, Corp?’ asked Nightingale, climbing to his feet.
‘I reckon not,’ said Kirby. ‘I’m going to find my own way along.’
As the men moved off, Kirby bid farewell to Nightingale and slipped away into the boggy mire that surrounded the Chickahominy and made his way to the riverbank. There was no way across other than by taking a dip and Kirby reckoned he was wet and muddy enough already so bundling up his clothes he plunged in and swum across reaching the banks on the northern side of the peninsular.
From there he continued to make his way in a northeasterly direction determined to reach the York River, hoping to meet up with Union troops on the way or pick up a ride on a naval ship when he reached the river.
All around him were signs of the general confusion; men from both sides were lost and stumbling through the forests of the muddy river valley. He could hear the continuing sounds of battle west of him around the embattled Richmond and the occasional jingle of harness came to him through the woods as cavalry or unseen riders passed by. They were always out of sight amongst the trees or too far distant for him to determine their uniforms. It was frustrating for Kirby, being so close to his army and yet not able to make contact and all the time moving in fear of being shot by some nervy conscript.
He was south of the York River and at the edge of the woods overlooking a rising pasture of open grassland when he heard the sounds of rustling undergrowth behind him.
Turning quickly, he saw the young trooper he had met earlier coming up the slope.
‘Nightingale, what are you doing here?’
‘What the hell,’ shrugged the boy. ‘I thought I’d tag along, it don’t seem to make much difference which direction we go anyway. Them Union boys are every which way.’
Kirby frowned; he could well do without one of the enemy trailing along with him when he made contact.
‘Don’t you want to get along to Richmond, might find yourself a decent meal there?’
‘Well, what are you doing out here, Corp? Ain’t you going back?’
‘Not right now,’ said Kirby. ‘I got a mission in mind.’
‘What that might be?’
‘Have to take a looksee behind enemy lines. You’d best go back, Nightingale, this could get tricky.’
‘Well, I’m here now,’ the boy sniffed. ‘I’ll cover your back, Corp.’
He stared past Kirby then, his eyes opening in wonder.
‘Will you look at that?’
A multi colored globe rose with ominous slowness over the brow of the hill beyond them and proceeded to drift ponderously along the skyline. It was a bizarre looking object and for a moment it startled Kirby into wondering if he was dreaming or not.
Both of them stood in shock at the strange object as it floated along. Distantly, Kirby heard the sound of a steam engine and the clank of couplings and guessed they must be near the York River Railroad line. As the strange shape rose higher Kirby made out a cable stretching from the base of the globe where a basket hung with two tiny figures inside. It was then Kirby realized he was looking at a Confederate hot air observation balloon being pulled along by the engine below.
The whole thing looked a homemade job sewn together from a variety of materials of different colors and sizes. He had heard about it from Lomas he recalled, how the balloon was filled each morning at the Richmond gasworks and then towed to overlook any battles taking place in the vicinity but this was the first time he had seen it in action.
For a moment it was in Kirby’s mind to steal a ride on the balloon. To cut the moorings and ride over the fields to Northern lines but the train moved off and the balloon drifted away westwards as the skies opened up and it started to rain.
The shot startled him as it came so close to his head and he spun around to see Nightingale’s raised Enfield rifle smoking in his hands.
‘Damn them bluebellies,’ chortled the trooper happily, lowering his rifle. ‘Too big a target to miss, sitting up there like a big old fat harvest moon.’
‘Nightingale! You fool…. That’s not a Union balloon, its one of ours.’
The crack of returning sharpshooter fire came from the balloon and Kirby dropped to the ground as shot whistled close by. Two more shots came their way as the balloon drifted out of range and Kirby lifted his head to see it vanishing over the horizon.
‘That was one dumb….’ He looked over at the trooper sitting spread-legged propped up by his drooping rifle. Slowly, the boy keeled over and slid to the ground and Kirby saw that half his face had been shot away.
With a sigh, Kirby laid out the body in a decent fashion and climbed to his feet. He looked around but there was no one in sight only the steady fall of a light rain and hunching his shoulders against the rainfall he broke cover from the trees and began to set off up the rise towards the railroad.
‘I’m telling you, Colonel, it was her!’
Joe was grinning from ear to ear and Monette poured himself a shot of whiskey before slamming the bottle back in his desk drawer.
‘Here in Richmond? Are you sure? How can it be?’
‘She was all dressed up in widow’s clothes. Her dress black as pitch and as she come out of the Capitol building the wind caught her veil. I swear, Colonel, it was your lady wife as plain as day. I’d know them golden locks and blue eyes anywhere.’
‘What was she doing in there? I thought the bitch would be long gone by now.’
‘I don’t know that but I followed her. I know where she’s lodged.’
‘Great God Almighty, Bellows,’ growled Monette. ‘If I can lay my hands on her she will pay a thousand fold for the trouble she’s caused me.’
‘Why not, Colonel. We can get her, sure as the day is long. You take down Belle Slaughter and your light will shine again here in Richmond.’
‘Yes,’ said Monette, guzzling his liquor and his eyes taken on a vengeful gleam. ‘Yes, it would be good. To bring her in and see all their faces as I present her to the General, then watch her riddled before a firing squad and be rid of her forever.’
‘I’ll get Obie, we can fetch her this instant.’
‘You have done well, Bellows,’ said Monette, opening the drawer and taking out his bottle again. ‘Here, have a glass with me.’
‘Why thank you, Colonel. Much obliged, I’m sure.’ Smugly, Joe leaned forward and accepted the offered drink.
‘Here’s to a worthwhile relationship,’ toasted Monette, with a slow smile. ‘I think we shall get on really well, Bellows.’
‘What hour do you want us ready, Colonel?’
‘Early evening, once we have full dark, I fancy. Bring your friend and we’ll meet up here and use my carriage.’
‘It’s done, sir,’ said Joe, swallowing his whiskey in a single gulp.
Later, once it was dark the three met as planned and Obie drove the closed carriage away from City Hall and along Broad Street until breaking off at the Seventeenth Street turn off and heading up to the Shockoe Creek neighborhood.
‘This is it,’ murmured Joe, knocking on the carriage roof with his fist to advise Obie they were at their destination and he pulled up the horse in the silent and empty suburban street.
‘Where is she?’ asked Monette, drawing his cloak more tightly around him as if he felt a sudden chill. He was both nervous and excited at the same time and Joe could see the shine of sweat on his sallow skin in the lamplight from house windows.
‘There,’ said Joe, indicating the building. It stood alone, a two-story brick structure set apart and in darkness except for a single lighted window.
‘Not many lights on,’ Monette observed as he took a silver flask from inside his jacket and swilled a slug. ‘She alone, do you reckon?’
‘Maybe,’ said Joe. ‘We’ll find out soon enough.’
‘What if that gunsel is with her? That Kirby Langstrom.’
Joe looked on his nervousness with a hint of distain ‘You up for this, Colonel? We don’t want no shake and rattle when we go in there. If Langstrom’s with her, they won’t be expecting us. It’ll be fine, I’m right looking forward to it, you know you ain’t the only one that owes Belle Slaughter for past deeds.’
Monette frowned at the glint of his teeth in the darkness. ‘Just being cautious, that’s all,’ he said in justification although Joe could hear the tremble in his voice.
Joe opened the carriage door and signaled up to Obie to tie off the reins at a nearby picket fence and get down from the driving seat. He looked into the carriage’s gloomy interior, ‘You coming or not, Colonel?’
‘I’m come, I’m coming,’ said Monette, bustling out.
‘Go check out the back, Obie,’ Joe ordered. ‘See if there’s a back door open.’
Belle was preparing for her dinner with Lamb inside the house as Obie stealthily made his way around back. She had laid out her dresses on the bed and was deciding which would best serve. She could not face wearing the veil and black again as she felt it did not become her nor would it help in any of her seduction plans to appear as a woman cloaked in death.
Her natural inclination anyway was to display her wares and since childhood she had always preferred the fanciest of dress. She made her choice and found preference in a tasteful number in satin with a long bustled back that swept the floor, the shade of green enhanced her eyes and the tight-waisted bodice enabled her to present her ample breasts to best advantage.
Once that was decided her next task was to set up her hair in ringlets and she sat in front of her dressing table mirror in a simple cotton shift and set about it. The job was best done with a maid but they could not risk having a stranger in the house so she heated the scissor-shaped tongs herself and coiled her golden hair as best she could alone.
She stopped once thinking she heard a creak on the stairs outside the bedroom but the house was old enough to offer all sorts of noises in the stillness of the night and she shrugged and continued crimping her hair into shape. Her arms were raised above her head holding the hot tongs in place when in the mirror’s reflection she saw the door to the room swing open and a tall dark shape appear.
‘Lomas?’ she asked. ‘That you?’
The lamp beside her shone on her image in the mirror but did not extend beyond into the darkened room.
‘I’m just getting ready to go see the General,’ she added. ‘You back from that Circle meeting?’
‘It ain’t nobody but me,’ said Joe as he came into the room, followed by the other two, their silhouettes crowding the doorway.
Belle gasped, starting to rise, ‘Joe Bellows!’ she hissed. ‘How in the hell….’
‘Yeah,’ said Joe, moving quickly forward and placing a heavy hand on her shoulder, pressing her back down into her seat. ‘Surprise, ain’t it?’
His hand played over her shoulder pushing the thin material away and caressing the sheen of her skin underneath. ‘Been a while, Belle. I see you still look a good as ever.’
Belle did not hesitate; she laid the hot iron tongs on the offending hand, scalding the wrist.
Joe yelped and cursed pulling his hand away quickly. ‘Goddamn you!’ he spat, bunching his fist and hitting her hard across the back of the head. Stunned, Belle slipped sideways off the edge of her seat and fell to the floor.
‘Get her up,’ ordered Joe and Obie straddled Belle and grasped her arms.
‘She sure is a pretty one, ain’t she?’ he chuckled.
Belle scissored in her position on the floor and kicked out, her bare foot missing its mark and striking Obie on the inner thigh.
‘Oh, my,’ he chuckled as he grabbed her firmly and lifted her up. ‘We have a fighter here.’
Joe sucked the back of his burnt hand and looked at Belle malevolently. ‘There’s someone here to see you, slut.’ He stepped away and revealed the cloaked figure of Monette standing in the doorway.
‘Good evening, wife,’ sneered the Colonel. ‘How good to see you again.’
Belle lowered her head and stared back at him, ‘What do you want, Courtney? It’s over between us now.’
‘I know that, my dear,’ said Monette, moving into the room full of smug confidence. He threw back the edge of his cape and took out his whisky flask. ‘But you have caused me such unpleasantness I could not leave you to run away without a last farewell. You have a charge of spying to answer for and maybe by handing you in I can reconstitute some of the honor you have lost me in the process of your deceitful behavior.’
‘You never held an ounce of honor in the first place, Courtney,’ Belle answered in a low voice.
‘As you well know, dear, my family is of the best in the South, why else would you attach yourself to me?’
‘Well it certainly wasn’t for your winning ways,’ spat Belle.
Joe’s eyes were fixed on Belle’s heaving bosom where the tension had raised her nipples under the thin cotton and he licked his lips in anticipation. ‘Colonel, seeing as you have no use for her now, you mind if me and Obie take a turn or two with your ex?’ he asked without turning away from her.
‘Why not,’ said Monette, dismissively as he swigged from his flask. ‘Help yourself to the tart, much good may it do you as she’s probably disease ridden anyway.’
‘You would watch this?’ spat Belle. ‘What manner of man are you?’
‘One who doesn’t give a fig for you, my dear.’
Joe lunged forward and caught the front of the cotton shift in both hands; he wrenched the fragile material apart and tore its length easily under his strong grip. With a rip, Joe pulled the material away revealing Belle’s nakedness underneath.
Even in the moment of his rampant lust Joe was stilled for a moment by the excellence of her form as it gleamed in the light from the lamp.
‘Oh my sweet Lord,’ he whispered breathlessly.
‘Me first,’ growled Obie. ‘I want a taste of this.’ He was holding Belle from behind and turned her around brutally to bend her back over the edge of the base of the bed.
‘Get off!’ complained Joe, pulling at Obie’s arm. ‘I waited a long time for this. You wait your turn.’
‘Shut up,’ growled Obie, pushing him away as his eyes ran greedily up and down Belle’s arched figure. ‘This one’s for me.’
Belle rested her hands on the bedstead behind, her mind racing as Obie’s large hands played freely over her breasts. She could smell his fevered breath and feel the heat of excitement emitting from his body. The testosterone levels had risen visibly in the enclosed atmosphere of the room and whilst Joe and Obie leered, Monette watched with a kind ensnared fascination.
‘Well, boys,’ she said with a sudden smile, changing tack as she played for time. ‘Can’t you make up your mind? I’m sure we can sort something out.’
There was a pistol kept under her pillow and Belle knew if she could make her way up onto the bed she would get to the weapon.
Joe rubbed his unshaven chin and the rasping sound filled the tense silence in the room. ‘You want it now, do you, honey?’ he said. ‘You willing to give it up freely, are you?’
‘Why not?’ asked Belle in a low seductive whisper. She parted her lips and licked them in the same girlish way she had done since childhood, ‘You both look like strong sturdy fellows who should be able to pleasure a gal real fine.’
‘What a disgusting common whore you are,’ spat Monette, gnawing nervously at his lower lip, both repelled and also drawn by Belle’s apparent display of immorality.
‘She sure played you for a fool though didn’t she?’ chuckled Joe.
‘Do it to her,’ snarled Monette. ‘Why should I care? Go ahead, ream the bitch. Just leave enough for me to take back for trial.’
‘Mind if I get up on the bed, boys?’ interrupted Belle, ignoring him. ‘Make it more confortable. Here let me get these rags off.’ Belle stood away from the bed and let the remains of the shift slide away from her. She posed naked for a moment, one knee tilted before the other, hands hanging free by her side. Holding herself as an offering waiting to be taken.
Obie was fumbling at his trouser buttons unable to wait, his breathing becoming heavy and labored. ‘Get up there,’ he croaked. ‘My God! I can’t wait to climb aboard.’
Slowly Belle raised herself onto the bed and languidly laid herself out across dresses lying there, shuffling and spreading herself to give them the best view of her splendor. She knew how to play them and was pleased that a simple show of her naked body could encourage this turbulence in the minds of these men. ‘Come on now,’ she whispered. ‘Lets see who can make the best of it. I’m more than ready.’
As she said it her hand casually slid above her head and under the pillow until it felt the hard butt of the pistol kept there.
‘You are one whoring piece of baggage alright,’ said Obie, dropping his pants and climbing up onto the bed. ‘Talk dirty to me, I like it when they talk dirty.’ He held his long erect member in his hand and he loomed, kneeling over Belle. ‘Open them up, baby,’ he muttered. ‘I’m going to give you the best damned ride of your life.’
‘Maybe it’ll be your last one,’ muttered Belle, and as Obie took his eyes from her and looked down to find position she slid the gun out and cocked it all in one motion just as Kirby had taught her.
Obie had only a moment to glimpse the weapon stuffed into his belly before Belle pulled the trigger and he was catapulted over the end of the bed by the blast. With a strangled squeal Obie lay in a fetal position squirming on the floor and clutching at his holed guts.
Joe stared in consternation at him before seeing Belle turn to face him; she raised herself on one elbow and pointed the smoking gun at him.
‘No, Belle, no!’ he pleaded.
‘Joe Bellows, you are one worthless piece of offal,’ spat Belle.
The gunshot boom was loud in the room and Joe took the slug in the neck below the jaw, he gagged and clutched at his throat, staggering in a stunned circle. Belle fired again the crash and flash of expelled gases reaching across the room and blasting the slug through Joe’s forehead and cascading his brains all over Monette standing in shock behind him.
As Joe fell, Monette screamed, dropped his flask and made for the door in a panicked run.
He collided with Lomas coming in, a pistol ready in his hand.
‘Stand aside, Lomas!’ howled Belle.
Wide-eyed and covered in blood spatters, Monette faced Belle, ‘You can’t,’ he begged. ‘You won’t.’
Belle shot him three times, each slug spiraling clean through his body and cascading holed plaster from the wall behind. Monette was slammed back, bouncing off the wall and sent crashing into the dressing table, upsetting perfume bottles and smashing the mirror.
Lomas stood in the doorway and watched in amazement as the naked Belle, rolled off the bed and pistol in hand moved around to stand over the still squealing Obie. Coldly and calmly, she pointed the pistol at his head.
‘Belle….’ Muttered Lomas, then Belle pulled the trigger and a single shot rang out. The gun was empty and there was only silence and smoke in the room.
Belle drew a deep breath and stood up straight, tossing the empty gun onto the bed.
‘Bastards were going to rape me,’ she explained to Lomas.
‘Hell,’ breathed Lomas. ‘They sure paid for that thought.’
With a dismissive sniff Belle took up a gown and threw it around her nakedness, ‘What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were supposed to attend one of those Circle meetings.’
Lomas was watching Belle closely and he noted that despite her apparent coolness her fingers were trembling as she fastened the gown.
‘They called it off, apparently the boss man had a more pressing prior engagement.’
‘That would be me then,’ Belle added, tugging at her disarrayed curls. ‘We have a dinner engagement.’
Lomas re-holstered his gun and rubbed his jaw as he looked over the wrecked room littered with blood and bodies.
‘I think we have a change of plan, Belle. We can’t stick around here after this, we have to get out now.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Belle coldly. ‘We still have a job to finish.’
Lomas was quietly surprised by her attitude and he recognized that Belle had entered into another stage in her development. To see her kill in such a cold blooded manner worried Lomas and it disturbed him that such a beautiful creature should develop the hand of an assassin in so easy a manner.
‘This ain’t you, Belle,’ he said quietly, with a nod at the dead men.
‘Why not?’ she said, calmly stroking her hair into place. ‘Because I’m a woman? You think I’m not just as capable as a man of seeing something through to the finish? I’ll bet you wouldn’t say such a thing to Kirby if he were here.’
‘It don’t become you, girl.’
‘It does now, Lomas. We’re at war and these men are the enemy. There’s no difference between what I do here and soldiers at the front do. We all fight and die for our cause.’
‘The Union troops are withdrawing, Belle. They ain’t going to take Richmond, McClellan’s been beaten. This city will be crawling with Confederate troops soon, all of them coming back from the battle line. We have to get out now to fight again another day.’
‘What about Lamb? I could finish it with him tonight.’
‘It’s too risky.’
‘Why? I’ll get him away somewhere on his own, he won’t be able to resist. If we kill him it’ll be a major blow to the Knights of the Circle and their bounty jumping scheme.’
‘If we kill him we won’t find out who’s behind it on the Union side.’
Belle’s blue eyes flashed in the lamplight, magically taking on a deep aquamarine glow. ‘Maybe that is something we can leave to another day.’
‘You’re going to insist on this, aren’t you?’ Lomas could see her resolution and feared that she might go ahead either with or without him.
She nodded picking up her curling tongs from the floor where they had fallen. ‘I am,’ she said firmly.
‘Then lets work it out properly. We need a plan. I think it’s a crazy risk but if you insist, the least we can do is be prepared with a proper escape route in readiness.’
‘You work it out, Lomas, that’s what you’re good at. I have to get ready.’