Mississippi Raider

by J. T. Edson

  On the point of advancing to deliver what she believed would prove to be a coup de grace, the redhead clearly having no conception of how to cope with attacks by savate, Belle realized what achieving victory in such an easy fashion would do. From what de-Farge had said, Roxanne was a regular competitor in such bouts and had never been beaten. He also claimed that this allowed her to keep the other women under a control that was beneficial to the smooth running of his establishment and that she received extra pay for doing so. Belle suddenly became aware that suffering defeat in such an easy fashion would result in her losing authority over the other female members of the staff, and she had no wish for this to happen.

  Apart from the first incivility, for which Belle had received an apology and agreed with the motivation after learning what had caused the reception—as she, too, had a healthy distaste for the kind of sexual deviation she was thought to be seeking— Roxanne had treated her with courtesy on all their encounters, while not behaving in a subservient fashion. Certainly nothing had happened to make the girl feel her opponent deserved to be treated in a fashion that would cause her humiliation and the loss of the position in the establishment that she held in a most satisfactory fashion, according to the gambler. The only problem facing Belle was whether she could allow the redhead such an opportunity to fight back without becoming the loser and being compelled by the rules to have her mask removed, since there were at least half a dozen of the men crowding the room who would recognize her.

  Never one to worry about what might happen, the girl darted forward and grabbed Roxanne by the hair. Although slightly affected by the chasse croise kick, the redhead was not too dazed to appreciate the chance she was being offered. In fact, she was relieved that something much more effective and painful was not being inflicted by the obviously capable young Southron over whom she had expected to obtain an easy victory. Just as she was about to respond in kind, she received a surprise.

  “Are you able to go on struggling, Roxanne? If not, what can I do to help you?”

  Suddenly realizing what was implied by the words, which were pitched so low that not even Hi slop—who she knew would keep well clear unless the far-from-comprehensive rules were being infringed—could hear, the redhead understood what was implied by them. It was obvious to her that the girl was wanting to know whether she was capable of continuing the bout, and she instinctively guessed that this was not due to wanting to continue the humiliating treatment. Sending her fingers into Belle’s black locks, she gave an equally sotto voce answer in the affirmative.

  “Good!” Belle breathed, still just loud enough for her opponent to hear. “Let’s give them a show!”

  Contriving to look as if the pulling they were doing was far more painful than was the case, the combatants went in a twirlin rush toward the center of the ring. Then, entangling their legs, they fell to the padded surface of the ring to commence a wild yet harmless struggling mill that took them over and over in what appeared to be the primitively instinctive manner of women without training when engaged in physical conflict. Among the screeches and squeals that both were emitting, without letting the words be heard by anybody other than Belle, the redhead contrived to thank her for her consideration and began to give suggestions of how they should continue the action for the benefit of the audience.

  Considering that the girl had never indulged in anything of the kind, although the redhead admitted later that the majority of her bouts against the other female members of the establishment were carried out in such a fashion, they contrived to put on what appeared to be a vigorously conducted struggle that the audience clearly never suspected was other than genuine. viii Nevertheless, there was one aspect of the supposed conflict that Belle found disconcerting, since she had not been warned by de-Farge that it might happen. In the course of the mill on the floor, without letting it be seen she was doing so, Roxanne had contrived to rip open the front of her flimsy bodice so her big and firmly jutting bosom was brought into view.

  When asked in the same surreptitious fashion whether she wanted to call off the struggling until the damage could be corrected, she replied that having it occur was an accepted part of the action and that its subsequent removal was all the loss of attire that would take place. Realizing that the perspiration she was already shedding freely must have rendered her own garments as sodden as and even more revealing than the redhead’s attire, and having no feelings of false modesty in consideration of the way she was already behaving, Belle said she was willing to be stripped to the waist if this too would be accepted, and this was done in a suitably realistic and supposedly unexpected fashion.

  Although Belle would be forced into physical conflict against other women more than once, there would be only two occasions in the future when she was compelled by circumstances to indulge in such less-than-serious conflict. ix However, despite this being the first time she had done anything of the kind and there having been no suggestion of it happening before the bout commenced, given support by the much more experienced redhead—who was not averse to carrying out the usual kind of simulated fighting after the effective way in which the opening moves were made against her—the girl was able to put on a most convincing performance. Putting to use the latent histrionic ability that would serve her so well in her future career, Belle was able to simulate all the emotions that were required, whether suggesting delight at success, frustration when some move she was making was thwarted, or the appropriate response when she was subjected to some form of gently applied suffering. The latter was shown to good advantage when, having whispered that such was expected by the spectators, Roxanne grabbed and appeared to be subjecting her bare breasts to a grinding and twisting that looked much more painful than was the case. The kick she sent between the redhead’s thighs to bring about the release from the hold appeared equally hurtful without being so.

  Continuing to be guided by Roxanne without any of the spectators realizing this was taking place, Belle put all her best efforts into helping produce a clearly well-enjoyed simulation of fighting. Having learned that such was always considered amusing by the audience, the redhead was pretending to remove the girl’s mask without having attained the requisite victory. On the referee trying to stop this happening, they turned upon him and, taking him to the floor with them, appeared to be subjecting him to a mauling instead of each other.

  Leaving Hislop behind after a few seconds, which was greeted by amused comments from the onlookers, the combatants rolled away in their still well-simulated basic feminine conflict. Doing so inadvertently took them under the lowest rope, so they carried on their supposed fighting outside the ring. This lasted for a few seconds before the nearest spectators, one of whom was an acquaintance of Belle but gave not the slightest suggestion of recognizing her—which was not surprising due to the mask, the change made to the color of her hair as an aid to avoiding her identity being disclosed, and her skimpily dressed condition—as she screeched out protests in a more coarse-sounding voice than was her usual tone, combined to separate and return them to the ring. Once there, with Hislop keeping well clear once more, they resumed their efforts with vim and vigor.

  Watching what was taking place in the ring, de-Farge quickly began to lose the concern and even twinges of conscience he had experienced over having allowed himself to be persuaded by Belle to let her be a participant in the bout. Despite having seen how capably she could perform savate, he had wondered whether she could put her knowledge to serious use against another woman. What was more, he was aware of how competent Roxanne was in such events and had no wish to see the Southron girl—for whom he had developed a great admiration during their comparatively short acquaintance—sustain injury because of inexperience. Once the action commenced, he had soon concluded that he had nothing to fear on either account. However, he had grown less certain when Belle began to indulge in the kind of struggling that he believed would be more in the favor of the redhead.

  So skillfully had the faking of the fighting
been done, it had taken the gambler several seconds to become aware that the combatants were not engaged in serious and determined conflict. However, as it was continued with vigor and what appeared to be authenticity—apart from having qualms when Belle joined the redhead in being bared to the waist until he realized that, like everything else now happening between them, it had been done deliberately at her instigation—he found himself growing increasingly satisfied by what was taking place. Not one of the spectators was giving the slightest indication of suspecting other than genuine action. Furthermore, obviously by mutual consent, the pair took turns in becoming dominant in the action to the point where defeat for one seemed imminent until being averted by the other apparently turning the tables and briefly gaining the upper hand.

  Such supposed fluctuations on behalf of the combatants were beneficial to the wagering that was taking place, enough bets being placed with de-Farge or his employees for him to be able to foresee a profitable evening. However, as he was thinking with some satisfaction on those lines, he realized that there was one snag that neither he nor, he suspected, the pair in the ring had taken into account. The reason for having had Belle’s hair dyed blond and her face concealed by the mask, which the redhead on two occasions appeared to be trying to remove until prevented by Hislop in accordance with the instructions he had been given, was to prevent her from being recognized. However, under the terms announced for the bout, the covering would be taken off in the event of her losing.

  Having no desire to have the girl’s identity exposed, the gambler wondered how this might be averted without arousing objections from the audience.

  The same problem had occurred to Belle and Roxanne.

  What was more, the girl and the redhead had arrived at what they considered to be the best possible solution.

  After some eight minutes of action, during which the pair had successfully avoided letting it become obvious that neither was trying to hurt the other despite each giving the impression she was determined to achieve victory, they were showing the effects of their strenuous activities. This went beyond each’s hair being reduced to a sodden tangle and bodies soaked by copiously shed perspiration, which had a detrimental effect upon their far-from-extensive solitary surviving item of attire, now reduced to a state of near immodesty beyond anything Belle imagined. They were growing so exhausted that each realized she might inadvertently give or sustain the kind of injury they wanted to avoid being inflicted. With that in mind, after a brief and still-unobserved discussion, they set about putting the scheme they had produced into effect.

  Coming to their feet on genuinely wobbling legs due to their now-enfeebled state after another session of rolling around on the floor of the ring, the disheveled and close-to-exhausted pair staggered apart. However, their separation was brief. Moving in, each swung a punch in a manner redolent of their physically drained condition. Nevertheless, like the blows and kicks they had essayed earlier, with Belle contriving to pull her own as effectively and comparatively harmlessly as Roxanne was doing despite having had no training in such matters, the punch that each launched was delivered in an authentic-seeming fashion.

  The fact that the pair swung with much less than their earlier vigor was accepted by the spectators as being excusable under the circumstances. Arriving almost simultaneously in closer to a push than a blow, the simulated attacks allowed the recipients to go down on their backs and lie with limbs spread-eagled, as if they had been rendered unconscious. Having examined them, Hislop declared that neither would be able to resume the fighting and, therefore, the bout was a draw. Calling for applause for two very gallant ladies, de-Farge stated that in view of the indecisive result, Madame Mask would not have her features exposed. Before any objections could be raised, he asked whether a second bout would be welcomed and the affirmative response ensured that Belle’s participation would never be discovered.

  It was, although neither the girl nor the gambler realized the point, an example of the lengths to which she would be willing to go to achieve her ends when she became the Rebel Spy.

  Chapter Nine – You Could Be What I Want

  “I’m really sorry, Belle,” Colonel Myles Raines declared, I looking as impassively as he could manage at the slender and straight-backed beautiful girl who was standing on the other side of his desk. He had known her family for years and was aware that she was not more than three years older than his daughter, Louise. x For all that, she had an air of quietly grim determination beyond her years, and he could sympathize with her reasons for coming to see him even though he was unable to give her the assistance she required. “But there really is nothing I can do to help you.”

  “But there must be some way I can serve,” Belle Boyd insisted, having told her reason for coming to Richmond, Virginia, without holding back the fact that she wanted to find and take revenge upon the men who had killed her parents.

  With the completion of one specialized side of her education and having repaid her debt to Captain Anatol de-Farge for it by providing him with a very well received piece of entertainment, the girl had felt she was at last ready to commence her quest after Alfred Tollinger and George Barmain. Despite having been spurred on by Mattie Jonias, whose authority had not diminished while she was recovering from the wound received on the night of the attack upon Baton Roy ale Manor, the Negroes who worked the riverboats and did the necessary traveling were unable to find out more than that the pair had gone northward for some undiscovered destination. Therefore, especially with the commencement of hostilities between what amounted to the Southern and Northern states, she had accepted that she must take up the pursuit herself.

  Satisfied that she could leave her family’s plantation and workforce in the capable hands of Colonel Dennis Thatcher and his wife Margaret, Belle had gathered what she would want for the expedition—including the garments modified as was suggested by de-Farge and the items for self-protection he had supplied—and had set out upon her mission of vengeance. Accepting that to attempt anything in Baton Bayou Parish or the surrounding area would achieve nothing, she had headed for the place she concluded would offer her the kind of contacts to serve her needs. Her first attempts to see the kind of senior officers her instincts suggested were most suited for her purpose came to nothing. In each case, a subordinate had informed her politely but firmly that the man she wished to see was too fully occupied in the business of vitally important matters pertaining to conducting the hostilities against the Yankees. Being made aware of how difficult gaining access to the people she required was almost certain to be, she had contrived to gain admittance to Raines as an old friend of her family.

  However, the interview was not going the way the girl had hoped might prove to be the case.

  “Well,” Raines said in tones redolent of doubt. Bareheaded and with his dark hair tinged at the temples by a touch of white, he was a tall, lean man in the cadet-gray dress uniform of the Confederate States Cavalry and bore the insignia of his rank on the stand-up collar and sleeves of his jacket. “There is always working as a nurse. However, despite all that was said about Florence Nightingale with the British wounded soldiers and sailors in the Crimean War, that is not highly regarded by many people as a suitable occupation for a Southern lady like yourself.”

  “I don’t have being a nurse in mind,” the girl stated, aware that such an occupation was still regarded by many men as being restricted to lower-class women, even though she did not subscribe to the point of view. “Necessary as I know it is and noble though I believe it to be, becoming one won’t do anything to help me catch Tollinger and Barmain.”

  “From what you say, they fled north before the War started,” Raines reminded. “Don’t you think that puts them well beyond your reach?”

  “I’ve heard we have some of our people working secretly in the North,” Belle pointed out. “Is that true?”

  “One hears such things said,” the Colonel admitted in a noncommittal tone.

  “Then they must be controll
ed by somebody, or at least send their information to somebody,” the girl asserted. “And the most likely place to find that somebody is here in Richmond, as it is the Capital of the Confederate States and all our leading civil and military authorities are assembled here.”

  “I suppose this would be the most logical place to look, assuming such people do actually exist, and I’m not saying they do.”

  “Poppa often used to tell me about how most countries have what is known as a secret service to do work of that kind.”

  “One hears of such things,” the Colonel conceded cautiously, sensing he could be getting on dangerous ground as there were already strong rumors that both the South and the North were operating such organizations.

  “And I can’t see our leaders failing to have one,” Belle declared. “Do you know who the one in charge of our secret service might be, sir?”

  “My dear young lady,” Raines said, once more needing to control the smile he could feel welling inside him. “I’m just one colonel of many waiting to receive command of a regiment. I’ve never become involved in such things and hope I never have to be. It’s a very dirty business by all accounts. Anyway, I would say the main purpose of a secret service is ensuring that it remains a secret.”