by Tony Masero
With a smile of satisfaction, thinking he had downed Kirby permanently, Bond heaved his bulk away from the balustrade. He looked over to see the stable buildings pouring out flames and black smoke in roiling wall. To his left the gun battle was still going on amidst his soldier’s homes and as he looked towards the barracks that made up the slave’s quarters, he was surprised to see them all gathering. As if they were an audience paid up for the entertainment. Bond did not like the look of the silent mass of black faces, he sensed that given the right kind of signal they would throw off their fearful reserve and come running to overthrow him.
He turned to advise his harem of girls that they would be leaving, when Belle burst into the room her pistol held before her. Without a second thought and with a vicious snarl, Bond caught one of the lounging women and dragged her up by the hair in front of himself as Belle fired.
The girl was a pretty half naked mulatto and Belle’s bullet caught her in the ribs, she screamed and clutching her side, she doubled over. With a snarl, Bond pushed the wounded girl aside and fired at Belle, his shot cracking a hole in the plaster wall beside the door. Belle backed away into the hallway outside the room, swinging the door half closed to give her some cover as she did so. The wounded mulatto was writhing on the floor; her mouth open in a silent scream of agony and Bond stepped over her to deliver another shot at Belle.
The girl reached out and grasped his trouser leg, whether it was to plead for his help or to stop him from leaving, it was impossible to say. As the girl hung on, Bond turned on her, distracted from following Belle and annoyed at being held up, he pointed his pistol down and callously shot the girl dead.
There was a collective gasp of horror from the other women in the room. They all backed away, clinging to the walls and furniture, afraid that Bond might turn on them next.
Bond blundered over to the door but Belle was waiting for him in the corridor outside and a shot from her pistol sent him veering back into the room.
‘I’ve come for you, Xavier Bond and I’m taking you back to the States. Surrender now and it won’t have to be passage in a coffin.’
‘Who the hell are you?’ asked Bond looking around wildly for a way out. There was nowhere to go, except for over the balcony and he was no longer limber enough to make it out that way so that was not an option. There was no other exit from the set of rooms except by the corridor, which Belle now watched over.
‘I’m Belle Slaughter, agent for the Pinkerton Agency and I’m going to arrest you Xavier Bond, Grand Knight of the Golden Circle.’
‘Pinkerton!’ Bond spat in disgust. ‘You’ve got no entitlement to act here, you’re in a foreign country now.’
‘Yes,’ Belle said cynically in a mock-consoling voice. ‘Shame isn’t it? But I’m still taking you back.’
‘I don’t think so,’ growled Bond and he grabbed one of his harem by the arm. She was a tall, thin Negress and she cringed away from him in fear. ‘Come on, honey,’ he whispered to the girl. ‘You go sort her out.’
‘No, Xavier. Please, don’t,’ the girl begged, trying to escape. ‘I don’t want to.’
With that, Bond roughly pushed her through the doorway. She ran, waving her arms and screaming in panic down the corridor but Belle did not fire and the Negress got safely away.
Bond’s face twisted into an angry frown. ‘You can’t hold me,’ he bellowed. ‘You have no legal right whatsoever to come busting down here, setting my home on fire and killing my staff. I’ll see you hang for this.’
‘Not if you hang first, Bond.’
In that instant, the roaring flames finally reached stacked barrels of lamp oil kept for the house lights and some barrels of gunpowder stored at rear of the stables. The explosion was tremendous, its blast first sucking in the turgid air and them releasing it in a bow-wave that billowed across the courtyard. What was left of the stable structure was lifted into the air in the up draft of energy released by the explosion. Like the ribbed bones of a cindered dinosaur, the flaming debris reached its azimuth above the yard in a lurid orange and dove-gray cloud then it rained down in a shower of erupting sparks and blazing timbers to pockmark the courtyard below.
The blast wave hit the house and blew its way through the open doorway of the balcony, ripping the tall patio doors off their hinges as if they were tissue paper and roaring through the rest of the room. It wrenched pictures from walls, overturned plinths and vases and threw the occupants of the room to the floor. Glass shattered and fabric was ripped apart. Books flew through the air as if on wings and furniture was overturned.
Bond ended up in a heap, with two of the girls sprawled across him. Angrily he pushed them aside and shook his dazed head. He looked up to see the dark barrel of Belle’s gun pointing down at him.
‘Don’t make a move unless I say so,’ she warned, clicking back the hammer. ‘Drop the weapon.’
Bond glowered and did as he was told, allowing his pistol to fall from his fingers and thud onto the floor.
‘Now what?’ he snarled.
‘Now we take a walk, up you get. You girls,’ she said to the remaining women. ‘Get out of here and don’t come back, there’ll be nothing here for you now.’
Thankfully, the girls rushed in a crowd for the door.
They froze as they saw Kirby standing there, leaning with one arm up against the doorframe.
‘Okay,’ he said, letting them through with a little bow. ‘So long, ladies.’
‘You all right?’ asked Belle.
Kirby rubbed his forehead where a trickle of blood ran down from a gash, ‘Kind of,’ Kirby allowed.
Belle noticed the hole in his shirtsleeve and the blood there. ‘Your arm?’ she asked.
‘It’s okay, took some skin away but I’ll live.’
A low rumble of sound coming from outside interrupted them.
‘What’s that? Asked Belle, not taking her eyes from Bond.
‘It appears the contingent of slaves are getting restless,’ said Kirby looking out from the shattered doorway of the balcony.
‘Come on, get up,’ Belle urged Bond and the overweight man rolled over on his side and pushed himself upright with a wheezing pant. Nudging him along in front of her, Belle made her way over to look into the courtyard.
‘My God!’ she gasped. ‘How many of them are there?’
‘How many you keep here, Bond?’ asked Kirby.
Bond shrugged indifferently, ‘No idea, you think I bother myself with the help?’
‘There must be a couple of hundred of them.’
In a dark wave, the crowd of slaves most of them male and dressed in rags with the rest almost completely naked, made their way along the row of Confederate cottages. The slaves ran in amongst the buildings and soon screams and pleas for mercy were heard as Bond’s men were winkled from their hiding places. The fury of the slaves was released and they set about their captives mercilessly. In a crowd they descended on the individuals and their prisoners were lost from sight amongst the press. A wailing chant arose from the slaves and it was only when they backed away that Belle and Kirby saw the destroyed bodies lying dead in pools of blood that they knew no mercy was to be given.
‘They’ll be here next,’ warned Kirby. ‘Best we make our exit.’
The small army of slaves was now rampaging, they knew their rulers were overthrown and they were bursting forward in rapacious orgy of destruction. The sounds of demolition and howls of anger echoed around the courtyard and soon even more fires were blazing as every outhouse was set afire. Belle and Kirby could see no sign of Tiago or Guatano amidst the clouds of smoke and racing Negros.
They made their way down the stairs, pushing Bond on ahead and hoping to find some way to reach the courtyard gate. They passed gangs of slaves intent on scouring the kitchens below; they had discovered the wine cellar and were guzzling down bottles and feasting on the food found there. Prime meats and delicacies and the best of champagne and wine the like of which the poor souls had never seen before in the
ir chained lives were stuffed into hungry mouths.
The trio made their way along the corridor and slipped unseen past the noisy crowd to find the door that led out to the main gateway. They stepped outside only to be surprised by a rampaging mob that ran wildly around the corner of the building and confronted them. They carried decapitated heads hoisted on the tips of poles and machetes. Bloody white men’s heads, their Confederate forage caps still balanced precariously on top. The revenge had been total and it looked like any of Bond’s remaining men had met a terrible end for all the grief they had caused over the years.
As they burst into sight, the gang froze when they spotted Bond, their learned fear so impressed into them over the years that it stopped them in their tracks. They stared silently at the three whites for a long second and them a mumbling chant began. It gained momentum and rose in volume and the group of slaves moved forward a step at a time, almost as if in a ritualistic dance recalled from their earlier lives in Africa.
‘Hold on!’ Kirby called loudly. ‘We’re Pinkerton agents out of Chicago and we’re taking this man back as our prisoner to face trial as a traitor and renegade.’
The group of slaves paid him no heed and continued their ominous shuffle, ringing the three and closing in on them threateningly, grunting in chorus as they came.
‘We’re going to have to shoot our way out of this,’ growled Kirby. ‘I reckon they aim to take us down along with Bond.’
‘Give me a gun,’ Bond begged. ‘Look at them. If they get hold of me I’ll be ripped limb from limb.’
‘Well, I guess that’s just about what you did to plenty of theirs,’ observed Belle.
One of the slaves, a tall and muscular black man, leapt forward a bloody machete in his hand. He raised the blade and waved it threateningly uttering a meaningless gabble of words.
‘Hate to do it,’ said Kirby. ‘But I’m going to have to plug this guy he don’t desist.’
There was a loud cry from behind them and a rush of men burst out from inside the house. In seconds they had overwhelmed Kirby and Belle. With loud cried of victory the riotous crowd pulled a squealing Bond away and carried him off.
Belle and Kirby watched helplessly as Bond was dragged away from sight around the edge of the building. Kirby struggled but he was held tight by his wrists and neck and Belle fared no better, as she was held as equally tight.
‘It is better this way.’
It was Guatano. He stood on the steps to the building, a whole cooked chicken from the kitchen in his hand. He bit a healthy bite from the breast and grinned at them as he chewed.
‘Good fight, huh?’ he said. ‘Make hungry.’
‘What are they going to do with him?’ Belle asked.
In answer, Guatano cocked his head to one side in a listening pose and they all heard the terrible screaming begin to rise from the opposite side of the house.
‘I think he find out what it like to be nailed to wood post.’
‘Let us go,’ begged Belle. ‘We have to get him back to the States.’
Guatano shook his head, ‘They not let you do that,’ he said, waving the remains of the chicken in an encompassing circle at the Negros around them. ‘They need this. He must pay for his cruelty. The man was most brutal. It is best he suffers at the hands of those he wounded.’
Tiago appeared in the doorway behind the Indian.
‘I am glad I am not out there,’ he said, indicating the courtyard with his thumb. ‘It is most unpleasant.’
A tremendous roar drowned the high-pitched squealing and screaming coming from the courtyard as hundreds of throats cried out their vengeance and then there was a sudden silence.
‘It is over,’ said Guatano and with a nod of his head to the Negros holding Belle and Kirby they were released.
‘I guess it is,’ agreed Kirby, bending down to retrieve his pistol. ‘Not much we can do about Xavier Bond any more by the sound of it.’
Both Guatano and Tiago shook their heads. ‘Not any more,’ agreed Tiago. ‘The dog will be in pieces by now.’
‘How did you make out?’ Kirby asked Tiago.
‘My son is wounded but not badly. We lost two of our Bandeiras but they did not die in vain, they took many with them.’
‘We owe you a great debt of gratitude,’ Belle said.
‘It is nothing,’ Tiago answered airily. ‘Besides there will be money and treasures hidden in this house and I shall find it.’ He paused a moment in consideration, ‘Maybe I will take up occupancy with my family. After all, it seems the previous owners have moved on.’
‘And you, Guatano, what will you do now?’ Belle asked.
The Indian jerked his chin at the wall of jungle surrounding them. ‘I go there.’
‘Where exactly?’
Guatano shrugged, ‘There.’
Chapter Fifteen
The sun was setting behind the high hills surrounding Rio de Janeiro, silhouetting them starkly against the fiery orange glow that filled the sky. The faint sound of a guitar and the soft, sad wail of a fado singer came plaintively across the calm water along with the mellow, warm evening air that wafted off the shoreline.
Kirby leant on the ship’s rail and watched the coastal lights slip away as the steamer made way and headed for the open sea.
Belle came up behind him and slipped her hand through his arm. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘We didn’t bring our man in this time.’
‘Close enough though,’ said Kirby. ‘Close enough, I think.’
‘I liked that Indian,’ she allowed, leaning on the rail beside him and looking out across the reflected lights glittering on the dark waves.
‘Guatano? Yes, swell guy. I hope he makes it okay.’
‘Certainly the last of his kind.’
Kirby snorted a laugh, ‘Rather like Lomas.’
‘Hold on,’ chided Belle. ‘That’s my long lost Pa you’re talking about. Show a little respect, will you? Which reminds me by the way, we have go visit him.’
‘Why’s that? Any reason in particular? Because he ain’t going to be too pleased with us after getting his town all busted up.’
‘Something he has to know.’
Kirby shifted his attention from the passing waves and turned to look at her. He jerked his chin in query, not liking her loaded silence. ‘What?’
‘Oh, I just have to let him know he’s about to become a Grandpa.’
Kirby’s jaw dropped as the message sunk in. ‘You mean….’
‘That’s right,’ said Belle, with a tight little smile. ‘Appears there’s going to be another little Langstrom on the scene real soon.’
‘How…. When….’ Kirby gasped. ‘How long you known that?’
Belle took his head affectionately in both hands. ‘Long enough, getting on for three months, I guess,’ she said, kissing him firmly on the lips then giving him a broad smile. ‘How’d you like that, Daddy?’
‘So that’s why you been so sick coming down here. Aw, hell,’ mumbled Kirby, taking her in his arms and smiling back at her. ‘You are something else Belle Slaughter. You really are.’
Kirby held her a long while as the information took hold and he assimilated the prospect of fatherhood. He was ignorant of the stares of the other passengers strolling along the upper deck of the steamer and would not have cared if he had noticed them. Kirby decided he was happy with the prospect and with the knowledge his contented inner glow equaled that of the setting sun on the horizon.
‘Does this mean we have to settle down and become respectable folk now?’ he asked.
‘You think you could ever manage that?’ teased Belle.
‘I don’t know. It’s a big responsibility, having a kid and all. Can’t really go off risking life and limb when there’s bills to meet and a babe to care for.’
‘Well, I had an idea on that score.’
‘Uhuh, you’ve been planning something for days haven’t you? I’ve seen it in your eyes all the way back through the rain forest and what might this master pla
n be?’
‘I thought we might go freelance. You know, kind of act in an independent way as specialists called in on occasion.’
‘You mean part ways with Mister Pinkerton?’
‘Why not? We know enough about the business now to go our own way and with a little one running around it would be nice to please ourselves with the way we handled things.’
‘So you’re saying we start up our own detective agency, that’ll cut old man Pinkerton to the quick. He’ll see it as competition.’
‘Why? He’s big enough to handle it and has more than enough business with the banks and railroad companies. I was thinking of things on a more personal level, kind of one-on-one type of problems. Besides he might need to call us in on occasion, who knows?’
Kirby pondered a moment, ‘I think I like the idea. Be nice to have some freedom to take on what we want and leave the rest.’
Belle hummed a pleased response and kissed his cheek. ‘Love you, honey,’ she whispered huskily in his ear. ‘Now, as that’s taken care of, maybe its time for us to go to our cabin and celebrate our new business venture.’
‘Wait a minute, Belle,’ Kirby said, frowning and holding her away from him. ‘None of that. Not in your condition.’
Belle arched a warning eyebrow and her blue eyes flashed dangerously. ‘In my condition! What the hell’s the matter with you, Kirby Langstrom? I just hiked through a Brazilian jungle full of man-eating creatures and poisonous plants, snuck in and fought off a bunch of renegades in company with a savage Indian and a band of thieves and cutthroats and you’re worried about my condition?’
‘Okay, okay,’ apologized Kirby, waving his hands placatingly as her voice rose angrily. ‘I know you’re tough enough, I was just a little concerned, you know?’
‘Well, bless you for that,’ Belle said in disgust, she grabbed his hand and pulled him after her and off towards their cabin. ‘Now, you come along of me, Kirby Langstrom. There’s a certain matter you have to attend to and I don’t want you holding off any on account of my ‘condition’, as you put it. You hear me?’