by J. T. Edson
For once, while engaged upon an illicit activity, the lady outlaw was not making use of a wig. Such an aid to altering her appearance was not needed for the character she had created. Despite being without a hat of any kind, the shortness of her brunette hair taken with the severe lines of her plain blue blouse and black skirt, was helping to give credence to the part she was playing.
Having carried out her departure from Fort Worth without further difficulty, Belle had not taken the shortest route to Austin. Instead, she had made her way from one gathering place for outlaws to another, so as to renew acquaintance ships and get to know the current state of affairs with regards to criminal activities in Texas. Out of curiosity, she had tried to learn the identity of the female confidence trickster who had swindled Owen O’Brien. For once, her efforts had come to nothing. Nobody would admit to knowledge of the woman, nor of having heard complaints from other victims.
Regardless of the failure to gain the information she sought, the lady outlaw considered travelling by such an indirect trail had brought more than one benefit. The most important, to her way of thinking, was the discovery that Armond Chauvelin had persuaded the Steeples brothers to seek her out and take revenge for the trick she had played upon him and his wife. However, as far as she had been able to ascertain, the trio had lost track of her after she had fled from Fort Worth. Nevertheless, doubting whether they would give up the chase, she had been extra alert while continuing her journey to the State Capitol.
On reaching Austin, particularly in consideration of there being hunters looking for her, Belle had concluded she could hardly have selected a better time for a visit. A gathering of adherents for the cause of women’s suffrage was taking place, which meant she would be less likely to attract attention as a stranger than on almost any other occasion she might have chosen. Having heard of the suffragette meeting whilst on the way and appreciating how she might turn it to her advantage, she had brought along suitable attire from one of the numerous caches of clothing and other equipment left in the care of trusted friends.
Staying at an otherwise respectable boarding-house, owned by a maternal maiden aunt whose favorite niece she was and who took pleasure in helping her nefarious activities the lady outlaw employed a different character whilst on the premises. Using a blonde wig drawn into a bun, buck-teeth and a large false nose, she gave the impression of being an unattractive, newly hired, Swedish housemaid. Away from her hiding place, however, she dressed, looked and behaved in a fashion which allowed her to mingle with, and pass as, one of the feminist visitors.
Despite Belle being in agreement that members of her sex should have the right to vote in political elections, even though her criminal activities precluding her from being able to do so, she had quickly found herself forming a dislike for the majority of those who had congregated to advocate suffrage. Watching and listening to the antics of the well-to-do feminists of ‘liberal’ pretensions, she had considered their attitude and behavior was doing much to alienate many people, women as well as men, who might otherwise have given support to the issue. Such was her nature that her animosity had produced a desire to prey upon those responsible for having aroused it.
Studying the feminists, the lady outlaw had selected the one she considered to be the most deserving of her attentions.
Matching Belle in height and, as far as could be discerned due to the almost masculine cut and style of her clothing, with an equally curvaceous figure, the Honorable Drusilla St. John-Bellweather—the first part of the hyphenated name apparently being pronounced, “Sinjun”—was obviously born into the British upper class. Like many of her background on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean who openly professed ‘liberal’ persuasions, she was arrogant and overbearing in her treatment of anybody she regarded as a social inferior. The main topic of her conversation, invariably conducted in a loud voice, was the assertion that she was the equal of any man in most fields of endeavor. Learning this belief extended to gambling, the lady outlaw had concluded it offered a way in which she could be trapped, and Belle had made the necessary arrangements to do so.
Waiting until hearing the Englishwoman complain about having been refused admittance to an exclusive social club noted for its games of chance for high stakes, Belle had made her acquaintance by claiming that she also had been thwarted in a desire to enter and participate. xxii Introducing herself as “Sylvia Montane of New Orleans”, the lady outlaw had claimed there was a group of the feminist visitors who shared their willingness to gamble and were going to gather at the mansion owned by her aunt to play poker. Invited to sit in, the aristocratic feminist had agreed and Belle had arranged for them to go together. She had said they would be the first to arrive, as the family were on vacation and she wanted to make sure everything was ready before the other players arrived.
Like the Chauvelins in Newton, Kansas, Belle had been fortunate enough to obtain a location suitable for her purpose. Having learned he was in Austin whilst travelling from Fort Worth, she had contacted a dishonest butler with whom she had done business elsewhere. The owners of a neighboring mansion had closed it whilst taking a trip. To save money, they had given their staff a vacation and arranged with the butler to have him keep an eye on the property. In return for a share of the profits, the butler had promised to give her access and leave everything ready on the night she requested.
Arriving with the Englishwoman in a cab operated by another acquaintance, the lady outlaw had found everything was as she had instructed. Although the rest of the mansion was in darkness, the sitting-room was illuminated and a door which gave access to it without needing to use the main entrance was unlocked. During the drive, to lessen the chance of the deserted aspect of the building arousing suspicion, she had explained that her aunt would not approve and, hoping to prevent the servants reporting she had held the game on the premises, had told them to take the night off.
“One can always rely upon the hired help to take advantage of one, if they’re given half a chance,” Drusilla stated, clearly having accepted the reason she had been given. Although she was beautiful, it was marred by the way in which her honey blonde hair was drawn into a tight bun, and by the monocle, she invariably wore, emphasizing the arrogance of her demeanor. Apart from wearing a white ‘boater’ hat, her attire was much the same as that of Belle. Glancing around disdainfully while removing the headdress and placing it on the table, she went on, “I shudder to think of what that maid of mine might be up to while I’m not there to keep an eye on her. Nice place your folks have, old gel. It almost comes up to our standards.”
“Why thank you, darling,” the lady outlaw replied with well simulated, apparently thinly veiled, annoyance, deciding it would be especially satisfying to teach the other the costly lesson she intended. Leading the way to the table in the center of the room and indicating the glasses and decanters on the sidepiece, she went on, “Do have a seat and let me fetch you a drink.”
“I’ll take a port, if there is any,” the Englishwoman assented, drawing out a chair and sitting down, her attitude implying she considered the possibility unlikely.
“I hope this is to your liking,” Belle commented, having collected two glasses of the port she had asked the butler to include in the decanters, knowing such to be the other’s usual drink. Reaching for the reticule she had placed on the table and which was as large, if more stylish than the one she used when wearing poorer garb. “I’ve brought the cards—”
“Just a tick, old thing!” Drusilla interrupted, more in the manner of an order than a request, setting down the glass at which she had sipped as if expecting the contents to be below her usual standard. “No offence meant and all that sort of jolly rot, but you know how superstitious we gamblers are. I always seem to have the most terrible luck when I’m playing with anybody else’s cards, so would you mind most awfully if we use the pack I’ve brought?”
“Have it your own way,” Belle answered, watching the Englishwoman reaching into a reticule almost the same size as her own. She h
ad had no intention of relying upon cards prepared in advance, but added, “I’m superstitious too and always find it’s lucky for me to open whatever deck I’ll be using.”
“Go ahead,” Drusilla authorized, showing no hesitation before speaking.
Wondering if there might be more than just superstition behind the request, the lady outlaw accepted the correctly sealed packet offered by the Englishwoman and subjected it to a quick yet careful examination. It was the product of a well known and reputable manufacturer, but she was aware that there were ways to open, then close, the wrappings after the contents had been marked or otherwise treated for cheating purposes. Having been taught what to look for, by a professional gambler skilled in such matters, she could not detect anything to suggest this had happened.
Breaking open the seal, Belle extracted the deck and tossed aside the jokers. Then she subjected the cards to what appeared to be nothing more than a casual rippling under her right thumb. In reality, regardless of her assumptions about the packet, she was conducting a most effective test which would expose any secret markings there might be on the backs. xxiii Satisfied there were none, she took the precaution of studying her intended victim to check for signs that other forms of cheating were contemplated. Everything seemed to be all right. Drusilla was not wearing any rings which could conceal a mirror allowing the value of the cards to be discovered as they were being dealt, nor were her fingernails long or sharp enough to make marks on the backs during play. The tightness of the dark green blouse’s cuffs precluded the use of a ‘hideout’, or even concealing cards up the sleeve. All in all, it seemed the suggestion of using her own cards was nothing more than a precaution against being cheated, or mere genuine superstition.
“When are the rest of the gels coming?” the Englishwoman inquired, as the lady outlaw placed the cards on the table and sat down.
“They said they’d be along about eight-thirty,” Belle replied, glancing at the grandfather clock in a corner of the room. “But you know what they’re like when they get talking politics.”
“I do.”
“Would you care for another drink while we’re waiting?”
“No, thank you. But what say you and I have a few hands to pass the time until they get here?”
“Let’s do just that,” Belle agreed, having meant to make the suggestion. “Straight draw, no wild cards and for table stakes, unless you’ve something else in mind?”
“I never play any other way,” Drusilla claimed and opened her reticule to take out a thick wad of money. “There’s two thousand of your dollar-things here, old sport. Hope you and the others can match it?”
“I certainly can,” the lady outlaw declared, having brought a similar sum and removing it from the bag she had placed to the right of where she was seated. “Shall we cut for deal?”
With the game commenced, Belle needed only a few hands to realize she was dealing with a most competent opponent. Judging by various indications, the Englishwoman was well versed in more than just the playing tactics. However, the lady outlaw was unable to detect any attempts at employing cheating techniques to improve the run of the cards. Nor, due to the clearly knowledgeable scrutiny to which she was subjected, was she able to do so when dealing.
“Great heavens, just look at the time!” Drusilla ejaculated, after something over an hour of very competitive play had passed without any decisive advantage either way. “Where can those blasted gels be?”
“They should be here by now,” Belle lied, then stretched. “I don’t know about you, but my throat is dry. Let’s have another drink, shall we?”
“I was hoping you’d ask,” the Englishwoman declared. “That’s quite an adequate port for over here.”
Crossing to the sidepiece, the lady outlaw reached into a concealed pocket at the front of her skirt’s waistband. Despite carrying the means to do so, it had not been her intention to resort to the measures she was contemplating. Nor would she have done so if the butler had not assured her he could evade any suggestion of complicity should her victim lodge a complaint with the town marshal. However, she concluded that she could not continue the pretence of there being other players coming for much longer and had decided to take the easy way out.
Extracting a small pill box containing the kind of drug she had used on David Icke at Mulrooney, Belle tipped some into Drusilla’s glass and added a measure of port. A quick shake speeded the dissolving process and removed all visible traces of the addition before she was ready to return. With this done, topping up her own glass, she picked up the tray from which she had served the first drinks and walked back to the table. Taking the glasses from it, the Englishwoman moved both in circular motions before setting them down.
“That’s how my pater said the best bouquet could be given to port, old thing,” Drusilla remarked, placing the correct glass in front of the lady outlaw. Raising her own in the manner of proposing a toast, she continued, “Here’s strength to women’s suffrage!”
“May it soon be coming!” Belle countered, remaining on her feet and tipping all the port down her throat as an inducement for the Englishwoman to do the same.
Aware of how quickly the potion could take effect, the lady outlaw knew she would not have long to wait after Drusilla duplicated her action by swallowing the contents of the glass. However, as she saw the other becoming aware that something was wrong and trying to rise, a wave of dizziness assailed her. Even as a realization of what must be causing it came to her, her legs buckled beneath her.
With almost simultaneous thuds, the two beautiful women collapsed and sprawled unconscious upon the floor.
Chapter Twenty-Two – Great Minds Think Alike
Although Belle Starr was not aware of it, on regaining consciousness some ninety minutes after falling to the floor, the sensations which assailed her were much the same as those experienced by David Icke when he recovered from having been drugged by her.
Several seconds elapsed before the lady outlaw was able to realize that she was not alone in her suffering!
Hearing a low groan from somewhere nearby, Belle forced herself to make the effort and raised her head from the carpet to investigate. What she saw indicated she was incorrect in her assumption that, by some inexplicable accident, she had caused herself to drink the drugged port prepared for her intended victim.
Looking far from arrogant, with the monocle dangling from her neck by its cord instead of at her left eye, the honey-blonde Englishwoman was slowly struggling into a kneeling position. Finding she was under observation by the cause of her misfortunes, she let out a furious hiss and began to rise. Seeing the anger which came to her beautiful and patrician features, the lady outlaw concluded it was advisable to do likewise. Swaying as they came to their feet, each waited for the dizziness caused by her movements to clear away.
“Drug me, would you?” Drusilla St. John-Bellweather ejaculated as her stance steadied, stepping forward and swinging around her left hand an instant before Belle was ready to move.
Despite having so recently regained her faculties, the way in which the punch was delivered by the Englishwoman was indicative of considerable skill. In fact, struck on the side of the jaw, the lady outlaw might have counted herself fortunate that her assailant had not yet completely thrown off the effects of the potion she had administered. Even with such a disadvantage, the impact sent her in a twirling sprawl against the table. Brought to a halt, the pain caused by the blow cleared her head. However, although within reaching distance of her reticule, she made no attempt to draw out her Manhattan Navy Model revolver.
Glancing over her shoulder, Belle was spurred into motion by the sight of the honey blonde rushing forward. Wavering slightly as she thrust herself erect, she used the impetus of her turn to change the advance into a hurried involuntary retreat with an equally skilful punch by her clenched right fist. Despite the success she achieved, she did not believe the affair was over. Nevertheless, she continued to ignore the readily available weapon. Instead of a
rming herself, she set about acquiring a greater freedom of movement than would be possible while dressed in such a comparatively restrictive fashion.
As was the case with most of the clothing owned by the lady outlaw, the garments she was wearing had been made to help cope with the kind of situation she was now in. Hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her skirt, she gave a twisting tug which caused it to open. Allowing the garment to fall to the floor, leaving her clad below the blouse in black tights of the kind worn by certain types of female entertainers, and high button shoes, she stepped clear of it. However, even while doing so, she discovered the advantage she had hoped to gain by discarding it might be nullified.
Having been sent reeling until reaching the wall by the sidepiece, the Englishwoman had clearly arrived at the same conclusions as the lady outlaw. What was more, although such a way of tailoring was far from common in fact, Belle knew of only one other person who always had it done the skirt worn by Drusilla was capable of just as speedy a removal. Regardless of the close to masculine lines of her outer attire, discarding it brought into view attire which was indisputably feminine. Not only were the red satin drawers trimmed with black lace, much briefer and far less decorous than might be expected from external appearances, the sheer black silk stockings and their fancy red suspender straps were in no way complimentary to the low heeled and less than stylish shoes on her feet.
Surprised by finding out that the Englishwoman was able to escape from the skirt as easily as she had done, there was no time for the lady outlaw to wonder whether she too had come by the idea as a result of having made the acquaintance of Belle Boyd. It had been from the Rebel Spy, now serving as an agent for the United States’ Secret Service, xxiv that Belle Starr had learned the secret of the readily opening waistband now fitted to all her garments.
Freed from whatever restraints to mobility the discarded skirts would otherwise have imposed, the two beautiful women moved forward to resume hostilities!