by Tony Masero
Belle meanwhile, was being courted by a military type. A proud looking thirty-five year old man of tall bearing and handsome features. He was obviously a person of some renown, she could see that by the envious glances flicking her way from the other ladies that sat alongside.
‘Courtney Monette, ma’am,’ he said, bowing over her hand.
‘You are a soldier, sir?’ she asked.
‘You have me pegged. A colonel.’
‘Indeed, Colonel, well there are many men in service and not all of them know where their loyalties lie. Let me ask you where you stand now with all the divisions present in the city? I hope you are a true patriot.’
‘I shall follow my best inclinations if there is conflict, on that you may be sure.’
He was leaning over her, his hand upon the back of her chair and successfully barring any others that might try to intrude.
‘Well,’ said Belle, looking at him from beneath lowered eyelids. ‘I just hope those inclinations of yours blow from a southerly direction.’
‘I am a Southerner, ma’am,’ he affirmed, with a grin that quirked one side of his mouth and showed a row of even white teeth. ‘Through and through.’
‘You know, I am forever impressed by our bold fighting men,’ praised Belle, with a winning smile. ‘So ready and able to stand for our liberties. It does my heart good to know the call to the flag will be responded to with such vigor.’
‘Have no fear, dear lady. You shall sleep safe in your bed before any damnable Yankee attempts to overthrow this city of ours.’
She simpered and hid her face behind her fan, watching him coquettishly above the edge.
‘Such fair promise,’ she murmured. ‘I trust you are well armed, for if this frail female body is about to suffer invasion I would like to know our defense has a strong sword couched in a sturdy sheath.’
She watched his face twitch at the suggestive remark; he wore a dark mustache and his hand automatically brushed at the fringes in a devil-may-care attitude. Belle knew she had him hooked. He was a rakish man and full of his own self importance and she instinctively knew that with the right kind of inducement he would open up to her quite freely.
‘My weapon is ample enough to meet any demand and always at your command,’ he bragged in answer, his voice dropping in volume to a leering whisper.
‘Perhaps we could meet to discuss this more fully at some time,’ she breathed. ‘I find that I am quite swollen with curiosity at the state of your preparedness.’
‘You do me honor, Miss Slaughter.’
‘Please, call me Belle. If we are to be friends, Colonel Monette, we must think of each other in a kindly fashion. With tenderness and gentle communion.’
‘I should like nothing more,’ he said, licking his lips hungrily. ‘Might we promenade, do you think? There is a veranda outside and in the moonlight it might be pleasant to stroll.’
Belle inclined her head in acceptance and as he took her hand she watched the fluttering fans of the other ladies rise in a wave to hide their gossipy whisperings.
‘I am afraid we are noted,’ she said as they walked slowly away.
‘I think all eyes are on you alone, Belle. You shine like a sun in this dowdy congregation.’
Belle smiled, ‘How kind you are, Colonel,’ she murmured. ‘And so gallant.’
He led her through the pillared colonnade that partitioned off the ballroom from the veranda and they left the bright noise of the dance and stepped out onto the balcony outside lit only by a bright moon.
‘How pretty it looks,’ said Belle, leaning back seductively against a stone column and looking out across the moonlit gardens below.
‘Nothing compares to you,’ he praised, coming close to her. ‘You are more splendid than any fairy vision in this light.’
‘Oh,’ she laughed, raising her fan and cracking it open between them. ‘You tease me, Colonel. I am just a poor country girl, I assure you. Whilst you, bold soldier, ride at the head of a thousand marching men. Why, to bear such responsibility is far beyond my understanding.’
He smiled smugly, sure of his conquest. ‘Only a firm hand is needed to take charge of any situation.’
Breathing heavily, he pulled her to him then and Belle gasped as if in girlish surprise, ‘Oh, Colonel!’
He tried to kiss her but she twisted her head aside, ‘Sir! What can you be thinking? I am such an easy prize, that you might ambush me so readily. Pray, stand off and let me catch my breath.’
He backed away with a show of repentance, ‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘I am in full retreat, for a moment I was overwhelmed by your magnificence.’
She tittered in amusement. The man was a fool, so glibly led along by her teasing and Belle was amazed to see how easy his overthrow was achieved.
‘But are we truly safe here?’ she asked, brushing past him to the stone balustrade and standing there looking out over the gardens with both hands resting on the stonework.
‘We are, I assure you,’ he hurried over to stand beside her, his fingers reaching to entwine with hers.
‘But we are so close to Northern borders. Why, in one fell swoop we might be overcome.’
‘No, preparations are made. We are ready for any eventuality that may befall.’
‘How can you say that?’ she said, turning to him accusingly. ‘I am so distressed by all this talk of war and civil unrest. It makes my blood boil to think that we might lose our heritage on the whim of this new long-shanked Republican president.’
‘I promise you, Belle. Lincoln shall never pass through the portals of Baltimore safely, you have my word on that.’
‘I trust it is so. But you are one man, a brave and courageous soldier I have no doubt at all, but how can you succeed in such a mission alone.’
‘Where a soldier leads an army follows.’
There she had it, an admitted confession of a plot. It was time to wind the net tighter and Belle tipped her tongue along her lips to moisten them.
‘Courtney,’ she said, turning quickly to face him, her face tilted up towards him provocatively with her lips parted, expectant and glistening in the moonlight. ‘Kiss me now, for I shall fall in a faint if you never do.’
‘My dear,’ he said, sweeping her into his arms.
They were interrupted by the sounds of a struggle at the other end of the balcony and both turned to see Kirby fighting off two men.
‘It is my cousin!’ cried Belle. ‘He is being beset by hooligans.’
‘Damn their eyes, assaulting your cousin, this cannot be,’ growled Monette releasing Belle and in a show of bravado he strode off towards the fighting trio.
Kirby was kicking out with his boot and elbowing one of the large men but they were both tough fellows, well able to take care of themselves and one responded with a large fist to the side of Kirby’s head. The be-whiskered Waynes stood watching from the shadows, his whiskey flask in his hand and a slow smile playing on his lips.
‘Ho, there!’ cried Monette, striding up and taking one of Kirby’s attackers by the scruff of the neck. ‘Leave him be, you ruffians.’ He jerked the man back, who taken by surprise, stumbled. Kirby took full advantage and jerked himself away from the other attacker and drew the Colt from its holster. With a whirling blow he cracked the man with a hefty hit on the forehead. The man groaned and dropped to the tiles.
Monette meanwhile was struggling with his other opponent who had recovered and was putting up a good fight. ‘Blast you!’ roared Monette, in a sudden fit of desperate anger and with a gigantic heave, he dragged the fellow across the balustrade and tipped him over the edge. There was a satisfying thud as the fellow hit the gravel path below.
Kirby swung around and pointed his pistol at Waynes, who quivered round-eyed at the sudden change in events. He raised his hands slowly.
Kirby placed his boot on the neck of the man at his feet and glanced over his shoulder at Monette.
‘I don’t know who you are, fella but I’m obliged for your help.’
>
‘I was escorting your cousin when I saw this going on. I’ll see a fair fight if I see one at all,’ said Monette a little pompously. ‘What is this, Waynes?’ he asked, turning to the white-haired man.
‘Colonel Monette, I’m so sorry; I had no idea these people were with you. As you know we are commanded to keep an eye on things here and I saw that this fellow, I, um, mean that Mister Langstrom was armed. It was merely a precautionary measure.’
‘Well you shall apologize to the gentleman immediately,’ snarled Monette. ‘I am accompanying his fair cousin and this is no welcome for them to our city. To be set on by a pair of thugs in such a manner, it speaks ill of you, Waynes.’
Belle came swishing along the veranda, her wide dress stroking the balustrade as she came. ‘Are you alright, Kirby?’ she asked. ‘What on earth’s going on?’
‘I’m fine, thanks to your friend here,’ Kirby answered. ‘It seems there’s been some sort of mistaken identity and I was about to be policed out.’
‘In a damned rough manner,’ observed Monette.
Kirby dropped his revolver back in its holster, ‘Well, no harm done,’ he looked at the man under his boot and lifted it from his neck. ‘At least not to me that is.’
‘Heartfelt apologies,’ croaked Waynes.
‘Waynes,’ ordered Monette. ‘Get yourself and these fool felons of yours out of my sight this instant.’
A crowd of curious folk from the ballroom was beginning to gather behind Waynes as he and his man backed away and as his face disappeared into the shadows Kirby noticed a figure come forward to console him. The light from the ballroom flashed on the face for an instant and Kirby started in surprise. He was about to take off after Waynes when Monette caught his arm.
‘Most sorry, Mister Langstrom,’ he said. ‘I am Colonel Courtney Monette, at your service.’
Kirby took his hand, ‘Real grateful to you Colonel, guessed you saved my neck there.’
‘Think nothing of it,’ said Monette drawing himself up into a characteristic imitation of a military pose. ‘You and your cousin can count on me.’
‘Who is that Waynes fellow? He’s mighty full of himself.’
Monette frowned, ‘He is a marshal of police for the city and normally a sensible fellow, not given to outrages such as this.’
Belle moved in close to Kirby and clutched his arm tightly, ‘Will you take me back to our hotel, cousin. I am a little overcome.’
‘Perhaps I can escort you?’ Monette said hurriedly. ‘It would be an honor to do so.’
‘Thank you, dear Courtney; you are most kind and thank you so much for helping Kirby. You are indeed a bold and fearless man, never have I seen such swift action. But I am exhausted just now, let Kirby take me if you will.’
Monette preened under her praise, ‘Then at least you will allow me to call on you?’
‘Of course, of course I wish it so,’ Belle managed in a weak voice. ‘Permit me a day or two to get over these excitements though.’
Although obviously disappointed Monette gallantly demurred to her wishes and once their carriage had been called and they were safely ensconced, Belle loosened herself from Kirby’s arm and that disappointed him a little also.
‘My God! Kirby. What were you thinking? Were you deliberately trying to draw attention to yourself? Why didn’t you leave that gun at the hotel?’
‘Lucky I had it,’ Kirby defended. ‘Otherwise those lugs would have torn me apart.’
‘Yes,’ she snapped cynically. ‘And now we are under the eye of the police.’
‘Not as long as we have your bold Colonel to defend us. Where did you pick up that toy soldier?’
‘Fortunate that I did, don’t you think?’
‘Well, you certainly had him all dewy eyed and hornswoggled over you, that’s for sure,’ growled Kirby spitefully.
‘At least I got from him that there is a plot in place against Mister Lincoln, which is more than can be said for you.’
Kirby went silent, his eyes watching the lamplight flashing by in the street outside the carriage. He listened a moment to the steady clop of the horse on the stones of the cobbled road.
‘I found out something else,’ he admitted quietly. ‘Waynes is in close with an old friend of ours.’
‘Who?’
‘I saw him just as we were leaving but your tin soldier took my arm and I couldn’t follow. It was Ward Hill, I’m sure of it.’
Belle released a hiss of air through her teeth. ‘Hill? Here? And in company with the police, what can this mean? Did he see us?’
‘I doubt it, the moon was behind us and it was dark out there. He would only have seen silhouettes.’
‘I guess it’s the last place he would have expected us to be anyway.’
‘One thing’s for sure though, where Hill is, then Joe Bellows won’t be far behind.’
Chapter Fourteen
‘I’ve had word from Pinkerton,’ Kirby said to Belle where she sat across from him in their sitting room a week after their arrival in the city.
‘And?’
‘He’s says you’ve done right well. It confirms what he’s been thinking but he wants you to stay close to the soldier boy. He thinks there’s more you can get out of him. He’d like to hear times and places, how the Confederates plan on handling things once it gets to the fighting. Numbers, if you can get them. Troop movements, and that sort of thing.’
Belle shrugged, ‘I can do that but what about you?’
‘I’m to sit on Carter Waynes doorstep and see where it leads. If he’s in cahoots with Hill then maybe the pilfered gold was intended for something other than selfish gain. Pinkerton reckons it was meant to fill the Confederate war coffers and not just line Hill’s pockets.’
‘You think Hill is a Southern sympathizer?’
‘This town’s full of them, so why would he come here if he wasn’t?’
Belle thought on that one, ‘And Bellows?’
‘We’ll see, might be he’s just in it for the pay.’
‘So how will you handle it?’
‘I’ll take a place somewhere outside the city jail and keep watch until something turns up.’
‘Could be a long wait.’
‘It’s our best bet.’
‘Well, I have a riding date with Courtney so I’d best get ready,’ she said, getting to her feet.
‘Oh, It’s ‘Courtney’ now, is it? Getting kinda close ain’t we?’
Belle sighed in despair, ‘That’s the whole object, isn’t it? Lead the fellow on and learn all I can. Don’t keep on with all this, will you? We have a job to do here so let’s keep it on a professional level. Things will go more smoothly if we do.’
‘Can’t help how I feel about you, Belle,’ Kirby confessed.
‘Hardened gun hand like you, coming over all cow-eyed after one kiss. Seems barely believable.’
‘Surprises the hell out of me too.’
Of the two of them Belle felt the most comfortable with the situation, she was being treated well by Monette. Invited to all the best homes and introduced to the highest in Baltimore society. It was a role Belle had hankered after for so long, to be treated with respect and civility. To dress in the finest fashions and wined and dined in the best restaurants. And as the days passed she found herself fitting into the role with greater ease. She also enjoyed the subterfuge and using her natural guile to gain the information Pinkerton so desperately needed. It gave her a sense of purpose and justified her climb into the rarified heights of civil and political society.
Kirby on the other hand was restless and ill at ease. His distress founded, he understood with some objectivity, on the jealousy he felt at Belle’s accompanying the Colonel. Monette was a handsome and wealthy man and Kirby knew it would not take much to turn Belle’s young and fanciful head despite her protestations of the liaison being no more than a task of espionage. His realization that as a wandering Pinkerton agent he brought nothing with him except trouble and saddle sores put him in a
poor light alongside the moneyed military man. Even though Kirby reckoned the pompous fellow had his head up his ass most of the time.
The Baltimore City Jail and Penitentiary occupied a large courtyard block that stood between three busy roads, Trixton, Forrest and Madison. Bordering the yard on the west ran the Jones Falls, a tributary river that ran into the basin of the northwest branch of the Patapsco River.
Kirby took up position opposite the entrance outside the warden’s house and played at being an idle lounger across from the high walls and arched gateway. It was an ominous looking Gothic place with looming castle-like turrets built from grey and white brick. Each tower was reminiscent of some mediaeval castle, replete with fake arrow slits and crenellation and stood with uninviting menace on each side of the entranceway. The jailhouse was obviously well guarded and there was no way he knew that he could enter the grounds without causing suspicion. So he sat with the other idlers, resting on cotton bales left on a plaza outside a textile factory opposite and whilst he waited he brooded, stewing over what Belle might be up to with Monette.
He had been there the best part of the day watching the prison cart bringing prisoners to and fro for their court appearances when late in the afternoon a lone figure slipped from the partially opened gates and Kirby was brought to sudden attention. He was a slightly built man in a white suit and riding a chestnut pony and Kirby recognized him at once as Ward Hill. The rider took off along Harford Avenue heading north and Kirby collected his ride and followed on behind. The road was a busy one and it was difficult for him to keep Hill in sight amongst the many buggies and traps that filled the stretch of road.
The traffic eased off a little as they reached the outskirts of the city but Kirby was still able to follow as a train of freight wagons was heading in the same direction and enabled Kirby to slot in amongst them. He was glad now that he was dressed as a city man and did not have on his country clothes as he blended well with those around him and appeared as any other traveller.
The open countryside stretched before them and began to dip and roll with copses of trees alongside the road and on the hillsides. Finally, Hill took a branch road off to the left that was hemmed in by a small wood. Kirby waited a while to let him get ahead and then followed along the trail as it moved amongst the shadowing enclosure of the trees. He broke from the trees and Hill was lost to sight to him as a high tree-lined hill stood before him and track narrowed as it climbed.