Wanted! Belle Starr!

by J. T. Edson

  “Very strange,” the ‘Duke of Haute-Savoie’ agreed, his tone pensive as he was aware of the reputation ascribed to the man mentioned by his intended victim. xi He found the possibility of her attending such a meeting disturbing. “Do you know him well?”

  “I have heard something about him, but we have never met,” Belle replied, truthfully with the first part and much less so where the second was concerned. “By all accounts, he is segundo for an uncle who owns one of the largest ranches in Texas and should be able to offer me many cattle at a suitable price. We are to discuss this in the morning and I never care to talk the business unless I am fully rested.”

  “A most sensible precaution, mon cher Donna Maria,” Chauvelin praised jovially, concluding there was no justification for his fear that the beautiful young woman was intending to make an excuse and leave before the trap could be sprung. He also decided, bearing in mind the person she was meeting in the morning, that it would be advisable to leave Newton after the game was over. Turning his gaze to his wife and giving a brief inclination of his head, receiving an equally quick nod indicating an understanding of what was wanted, he went on, “But perhaps your luck will change before you leave us.”

  “All things are possible,” Belle conceded, giving no indication of having noticed the exchange of signals between her host and hostess. “That is what gives gambling its fascination for me. However, as I have been so lucky all evening, I’m sure my good fortune will last a little longer and I hope you won’t object to me leaving a winner?”

  “Certainly not,” Chauvelin lied, considering such a contingency was non-existent. “The chance of winning, or even losing, is what gives gambling its fascination for me also. By the way, Mr. Driberg, are you acquainted with Captain Fog?”

  “I’ve bought cattle from him,” the stocky and hard featured man replied, guessing what was expected of him. “Now there’s a feller who enjoys a game of poker. I’ll say one thing about him, though. He surely hates a poor loser and’s told me more than once he wouldn’t do business with one under no circumstances.”

  “How interesting,” the ‘Duke’ declared, hoping the point would be taken by ‘Donna Maria Constanza del Santa Rosa’ and prevent her from complaining about her losses to the Texan when they met the following morning.

  “Hey, ‘Mrs. Duke’, ma’am,” Thomas Driberg went on, knowing what was required of him at this point in the proceedings. “Would there be any chance of me and the boys getting drinks before the next pot?”

  “Verily,” supported ‘Reverend’ Leslie Huckfield. “For does it not say in the Good Book, ‘Take a little wine for your stomach’?”

  “Of course,” Emily Chauvelin assented. “If you will tell me what drinks you want, I will go and start preparing them right away. Perhaps, Donna Maria, as you are to leave us so soon, we might persuade you and your husband to join us this time?”

  “But of course,” the lady outlaw replied, with the air of one so satisfied by the way things were going she could afford to be magnanimous. However, she had fully intended to request that she and the Ysabel Kid were included if the invitation had not been forthcoming. “We certainly will and, as it will be only the one, ‘Manuel’ will only be affected properly by it.” Directing a knowing glance at the ‘Duchess’ as she was making the last part of the statement, she went on, “We will each have a glass of wine, please.”

  As she had on other occasions when a ‘guest’ had made a similar request for liquid refreshment, Emily disappeared into the kitchen. She had already explained to Belle that the servants had all been given the evening off to avoid embarrassment for ‘Reverend’ Huckfield whose congregation, it was claimed, would not approve of him playing poker for any kind of stakes even in a ‘scrupulously honest’ game. Having established that her lack of experience in carrying out such a mental task did not make her an efficient and speedy ‘bar lady’, she had no fear that her delay in returning would arouse the suspicions of their intended victim.

  Working swiftly and yet carefully, the ‘Duchess’ arranged a deck of cards, identical to the one in use, so the hands would fall as they had on other occasions after a dupe had been primed and was ready for plucking. However, the task could not be performed until the seating arrangements around the table were settled, due to a mark being rendered less suspicious by being allowed to select whatever position he desired. The sequence she was setting out was such that, even if the victim elected to draw one card to replace the ace with the four jacks, the straight flush would still be made by Huckfield.

  Having made everything ready, keeping a watch upon what was going on in the dining room through the partially open serving hatch, Emily poured the drinks for the ‘guests’. Placing them on the tray she had used previously when supplying liquid refreshment, she held the prepared deck underneath it and timed her arrival to coincide with her husband completing the shuffling of the cards already in use.

  Waiting until ‘Donna Maria’ had cut the original deck, which would strengthen the belief that nothing untowards had taken place, the ‘Duchess’ held out the loaded tray. After the ‘wealthy Brazilian’ had accepted one of the glasses of wine, she served the Kid. Reaching with the haste which might be expected of one in a hurry to take a drink, he contrived to spill some of the liquor while accepting his glass. Growling an imprecation in his fluent Spanish, although of the kind spoken along the border between the United States and Mexico rather than in South America, he set the glass down untouched on the table. While the right hand began to rub at the front of his multi-colored ‘trade’ shirt, the left went into the outside pocket of the leather jacket as if in search of something with which to help dry its mate.

  Giving ‘Manuel’ no more than a cursory and slightly disgusted glance, Emily continued to distribute the drinks until reaching the ‘Duke’!

  Waiting until the ‘Duchess’ was extending the tray in the direction of her husband, holding it ready to exchange the two decks of cards undetected in the manner she, he and one of the ‘guests’ who handled the task when, as with Andrew Bullstrode, Emily was playing the ‘helpful sister’ role had perfected, the lady outlaw rose swiftly and threw the wine into her face.

  Despite her claim to be a member of the French aristocracy, the profane exclamation which burst from the ‘Duchess’ was in most basic English!

  Emily’s hands, rising instinctively to her eyes, which the liquid was stinging severely, released the tray and the cards sprayed in an incriminating cloud from beneath it!

  Having been warned by Belle as to when and how the situation was likely to develop, the Kid had not been reaching for something with which to dry his right hand!

  Instead, the disguised Texan had taken hold of the hollow wooden tube about six inches in length in the left side pocket!

  Seeing the time for inactivity was ended, much to his satisfaction, the Kid also came to his feet. Moving as he had spent much time in practicing since learning the part he was to play, he brought out the tube and raised it to his lips. At the same instant, he was sending his right hand beneath the near side of his jacket. As the other men around the table were showing consternation and starting to get up, he blew sharply into the tube. Propelled by the gust of air and moving faster than the human eye could follow, a sharp sliver of wood its rearmost tip supplied with a piece of cotton wool dyed bright red for a flight flew to bury its point in Chauvelin’s left cheek.

  Rising involuntarily, as his wife’s had done, the fingers of the ‘Duke’s’ right hand touched the missile and he gave vent to a gasp of alarm!

  Moving faster than any of the other ‘guests’, Driberg sent his right hand towards the butt of his holstered revolver!

  Spitting out a profanity seemingly at odds with his ‘cloth’, Huckfield was the second swiftest to respond!

  The other two ‘guests’ were also reacting, but less rapidly due to carrying their handguns in positions which did not permit a speedy withdrawal. However, like their companions, they were devoting the maj
ority of their attention to the only weapon other than the ‘blowing pipe’, which they realized would need to be recharged before it was available for further use displayed by the ‘husband’ of their intended victim. All were convinced the massive bowie knife also posed no threat to their well being under the circumstances. Furthermore, the other two were taking comfort from remembering how competently the ‘cattle buyer’ and the ‘preacher’ had coped with hostile behavior on previous occasions.

  To all the members of the gang who did not have other things on their minds, such as the leader and his wife, it seemed the discovery of the prepared deck was only a temporary setback. It would not, they felt sure, prevent the acquisition of the money brought by the beautiful ‘Brazilian’. In fact, she would regret having made it so obvious she had detected the concealed cards for as long as she lived.

  Which, the slowest pair of ‘guests’ concluded, would only be for a short period more!

  Chapter Seven – There Is a Price, Naturally

  Despite being an acknowledged master in its use, the Ysabel Kid made no attempt to reach for and draw the massive, ivory handled James Black bowie knife from its sheath!

  Instead, the Texan’s response was that of the Pehnane Comanche Dog Soldier he had been raised to be, combined with a frontier trained gunfighter!

  It was a most formidable combination!

  Having appreciated there would be a need for a firearm and a means of carrying it in concealment more easily than would be possible with his enormous, four pounds, one ounce, old Colt Second Model of 1848 Dragoon revolver, the Kid had had the problem solved for him. Returning with Belle Starr from escorting Andrew Bullstrode to the next town east along the railroad, he had found that Captain Dustine Edward Marsden ‘Dusty’ Fog had reached Newton and was able to supply what was required.

  Twisting the British-made Webley Irish Constabulary revolver he was already grasping from its spring retention shoulder holster, the Texan cocked its hammer with his thumb regardless of the ‘double action’ mechanism rendering this unnecessary. Turning it outwards, he sent the first .450 caliber bullet into the left side of Thomas Driberg’s chest before the Colt Peacemaker could be brought from leather and put to use.

  Because Emily Chauvelin had contrived to pass on the fallacy supplied by the lady outlaw, ‘Reverend’ Leslie Huckfield received a shock when he discovered the ‘gaucho’ had a gun and was proving most competent with it. Nevertheless, although the shot which killed the ‘cattle buyer’ was fired before he could collect the Remington Double Derringer from the outside right pocket of his black cutaway coat, he was not particularly alarmed. While carrying the weapon in such a fashion did not permit a really fast withdrawal, he had never found the need to adopt a means which did.

  Three times in the past, when the need had arisen, the pose of being a member of the clergy had offered an element of surprise and Huckfield had not required any excessive speed. Therefore, he saw no reason for concern at present. He was confident that, having discounted him as a danger factor on account of his ‘religious’ character, ‘Manuel’ would concentrate upon the other two ‘guests’. This would allow him time to produce the twin barreled pistol and open fire unimpeded.

  On other occasions, the bogus preacher had succeeded because his deception was not discovered until it was too late for the victim to respond to the threat he posed!

  Knowing Huckfield to be a member of the gang and, according to the information supplied by Belle not the least dangerous of them, the Kid was not taken unawares. Thumbing back the hammer again while turning the short barrel of the Webley, he directed the second .450 bullet into the center of the gaunt man’s forehead an instant before the Remington could be brought into alignment. Without speaking, as Huckfield was spinning around and following Driberg in Falling lifeless to the floor, he swung the smoking weapon to encompass and cause the remaining pair of ‘guests’ to freeze into immobility.

  “Stand still, all of you!” Belle commanded, in echo to the second shot, still retaining the “Spanish’ accent as an integral part of her scheme. Having dropped the glass as soon as she had thrown the wine, she had thrust her hand into the open mouth of her reticule. Bringing it out, grasping a small bottle filled with a thick, dark brown liquid, she pushed off the glass stopper with her thumb and went on, “This contains the only antidote for curare there is to be had anywhere in Kansas. Unless you do as I say, I will pour it on the floor and the ‘Duke’ will die in agony!”

  The first words spoken by the lady outlaw were superfluous where the surviving pair of ‘guests’ were concerned. No longer did the young man who was covering them appear in the least baby faced or innocent. Rather his dark features bore an expression of cold and relentless savagery which reminded them of paintings they had seen depicting Indians on the war path. Crouching slightly behind the short barreled revolver he had drawn so unexpectedly and already used with devastating effect upon two of their companions, he gave the impression of being ready, willing and even eager to kill both of them if offered the slightest provocation.

  Now was the pose entirely simulated!

  At such a moment, the Ysabel Kid Cuchilo, ‘the Knife’, as he was known to his lodge brothers thought and reacted like a Pehnane Comanche brave-heart warrior!

  Which meant, where enemies were involved, the Texan had little regard for the sanctity of human life!

  Being just as alarmed by the transformation of ‘Manuel’, the attention of the ‘Duke’ was not being given to the smoking Webley revolver. Instead, he was staring with horrified fascination from the sharp spike he had plucked out of his cheek to the hollow wooden tube also held by the Indian-dark young ‘gaucho’. There was a dark stain on the tip of the former which, he concluded, was far too extensive to have been caused by nothing more than blood from the tiny wound it had inflicted. The tube was decorated by symbols in red, white, blue and green paint such as he had seen upon Indian artifacts of various kinds which had ‘medicine’ significance.

  Even as he was drawing his unpalatable and frightening conclusions, Chauvelin heard a hiss of anger from his wife. Turning his gaze towards her, he found she was rubbing at her now reddened eyes and glaring furiously at the cause of her misfortunes. Knowing that her temper when roused was liable to produce reactions not in keeping with her pose as being a member of the French aristocracy, he guessed she was on the point of rushing around the table and attacking the beautiful ‘Brazilian’ woman with tooth and nail ferocity.

  “Stay where you are, Emily!” the ‘Duke’ howled in alarm, realizing what the consequences of such a hostile action was almost sure to be. “Do it, damn you. That half breed bastard shot me with this god damned poisoned dart and she’ll throw the antidote away if you go for her!”

  “That I will, my dear ‘Duchess’,” Belle supported, starting to tilt the bottle slightly. “And you have my promise as one with the blood of a Spanish grandee on it!”

  Regardless of having achieved the purpose for which the masquerade was intended, at least as far as obtaining proof of cheating, long experience warned the lady outlaw that she must keep to the character she had established. Having convinced the ‘Duke’ and his gang that she and the Kid were the kind of people who could possess the lethal knowledge and means to use it, any suggestion of the truth would prevent them from reaching their desired goal.

  As it was, everything depended upon Emily!

  “Oh my good god!” the ‘Duchess’ shrieked, all her aggression departing along with the ‘French’ accent, as she recollected the conversation about the deadly effect of such a device as was held by her husband. To give her credit, she loved him enough to care what might befall him as a result of the small wound it had inflicted. Swinging her now thoroughly frightened gaze to the lady outlaw, her tone took on a timbre of pleading as she resumed, “P—Please give Armond the antidote!”

  “Certainly,” Belle answered. “But there is a price, naturally.”

  “Take all the money on the table!” Em
ily offered hastily and the ‘Duke’ nodded an immediate concurrence.

  “I was going to take that anyway,” the lady outlaw claimed, gesturing towards the table with the bottle. “But I also want the twelve thousand, five hundred dollars you took from my bueno amigo, Andrew Bullstrode, a few nights ago.”

  “Do you know him?” the ‘Duchness’ gasped.

  “Very well indeed,” Belle confirmed and raised her left hand in a prohibitive fashion as Emily was about to speak. “No, do not try to pretend the innocent with me. Our families have done business together for many years and he told me what had happened when we met down the railroad track. That is why I brought ‘Manuel’ and sought you out, to get back all he lost to you. Now make up your mind muy pronto, my dear ‘Duchess’. The longer you delay, the less chance there is of your husband recovering from the effects of the poison.”

  “D—Do as she says, Emily!” the ‘Duke’ commanded, his face now gray with fear. He did not doubt for one moment, so convincingly had Belle acted, that a person of ‘Señora Donna Maria Constanza del Santa Rosa’s’ kind would take such extreme measures to retrieve money out of which a business associate had been cheated. Being equally certain that the ‘Brazilian’ beauty and her part-Indian ‘husband’ were what they claimed and believing his life was in mortal peril, he went on, “Oh my god!”

  “What is it?” the “Duchness’ gasped.

  “I—I feel d dizzy!” Chauvelin croaked.

  Waiting to hear no more, Emily dashed from the room.

  Chapter Eight – What Was On That Spike

  “Well, I’ll be switched!” the Ysabel Kid announced, returning the borrowed Webley Royal Irish Constabulary revolver to its shoulder holster on catching up with Belle Starr. He had been keeping the mansion under observation for a few minutes after they had taken their departure. “Dusty was right.”