Mississippi Raider

by J. T. Edson

  Much to Belle’s satisfaction, as they were subjects generally regarded as being male-only accomplishments—especially by members of her class, especially in the Southern states—and of which she suspected her aunt did not entirely approve despite appreciating how useful having them was likely to be, there had been fields in which it was considered she already possessed a sufficiency of competence. Because of the training she had received at her father’s instigation, she had a superlative ability at riding a horse sidesaddle or astride across the most difficult terrain, a skill that was to serve her so well in her career.

  Furthermore, having demonstrated it in practice, the girl’s ability in the use of firearms of various kinds had received praise. On having put to the test her ability at fighting, as opposed to formally fencing, Dartagnan, being an acknowledged master at both, had claimed that the lessons learned from Captain Anatol de-Farge had been so comprehensive in their scope that there was nothing further he could teach her. The devices for self-protection supplied by the gambler had met with the approval of everybody to whom they were shown, as did the modification she had had made to her skirts at his suggestion. To the former implements, she had added the kind of most effective concealed and disguised weapon that her aunt possessed, and one of them would be an important factor in her later survival. It was claimed that the instructions in detecting and even using some of the methods employed by dishonest professional gamblers, given by an old friend of her family to add to her other unconventional accomplishments, might serve another useful purpose when she commenced her duties.

  As time went by and she realized she was gaining an ever-growing satisfaction over the way her training was progressing, Belle had begun to become impatient to commence active duties. Although she never forgot her desire to take a justifiable revenge upon Alfred Tollinger and George Barmain for the murder of her parents—Rose having contrived to learn that they had joined other “liberals” in a section of the Yankee Secret Service that was less efficient than the branch run by Allan Pinkerton without as yet finding out where they might be serving—she had accepted that they were probably beyond her reach in the line of duty. What was more, she never allowed herself to forget the promise she had given on her word of honor to her aunt on the night they met, and continually swore to herself she would never turn aside from her duty should she learn where she could find them.

  The chance for the girl to be sent into what her companions referred to as “the field” came as the result of complaints from their superiors being received by Rose Greenhow in a coded message. There was a serious leakage of information taking place in Atlanta, and Belle was sent with Dartagnan to help try to locate, then stamp out, the source. At her suggestion, made because Higgins had said his specialized services might prove useful and asked her to make it, he was included in the small party. On arrival and after establishing contact, they had found that the local agents had made considerable progress in the matter, but felt their assistance would be of little use in bringing the matter to a conclusion.

  As a result of the investigations carried out on the spot, it had been ascertained that the first part of the problem was almost certainly the result of a small number of Army and Navy officers—not all of whom were young and of junior rank—and others in positions allowing access to items that the North would find of use, being regular participants in the games of chance offered at a high-class gambling house in the city. Several were known to have sustained heavy losses and lacked the financial means to settle their debts, yet they had not appeared to be pressed by the owners to do so. In fact, there had been rumors that some had had the liabilities discounted supposedly on grounds of loyalty to the Southern cause. While such a contingency was possible, the local operative had stated that the owners of the gambling house would be most unlikely to show generosity in such a fashion, as to do so would establish what they were almost certain to regard as a dangerous precedent.

  Wanting the matter investigated, Colonel Charles Jeremiah Mason, the head of the Secret Service in Atlanta, had suggested that the matter be handled by the visitors from Richmond, since they were strangers in the town and less likely to arouse suspicion than any of his men, all of whom—with one exception—had been residents for some time and had never shown any interest in gambling, even before taking up their duties.

  On being introduced to the exception, Belle had been delighted to find that he was Joseph Brambile, who in addition to being a successful professional gambler was an old friend of her family. Without waiting to be told of the accomplishments she had added since their last meeting, as he had heard what happened to her parents, he guessed what had motivated her to join the Secret Service. Therefore, he had suggested a means by which proof might be obtained about the honesty of the gambling house if nothing more positive.

  “Ole Dixie,” as the Colonel was cheerfully and respectfully referred to behind his back by his juniors on account of his being a descendant of one of the men who surveyed what had already become known as the Mason-Dixon line and accepted as separating the Southern “slave” and Northern “free” states, had agreed that the proof would at least allow the establishment to be closed and its owners and employees to be run out of town. However, it was apparent to Belle from the way he had looked briefly in her direction that—due to his upbringing as a Southern gentleman—he had been far from enamored of making use of her services in the capacity that was suggested. However, Brambile had insisted that she was a most essential part of the deception he was planning, and Dartagnan had rallied to her support by declaring that there was no woman more capable of self-protection should the need for this arise. Accepting both points, Mason had given what was clearly an acceptance filled with unspoken misgivings.

  Because the matter was regarded as being of the greatest urgency, no time had been wasted in putting the plan proposed by Brambile into effect. To avoid being recognized, although he had not been even close to Atlanta in several years, he had adopted the attire of a well-to-do plantation owner older than Brambile himself. For her part, Belle had donned a blond wig of a suitable style to go with the expensive dress and other accoutrements—including the protective devices from de-Farge and a fancy parasol of a style copied in every respect from one in the possession of her aunt—to add credence to the character in which she had been introduced: his less-than-bright and insipidly garrulous, albeit trimly curvaceous and beautiful companion whom he claimed to be his niece but who gave the impression of qualifying more accurately as his mistress.

  ~*~

  “Yes, Colonel,” Martin Jacques confirmed with the suggestion of bonhomie he always exuded so convincingly when addressing men he knew to be very wealthy and less-than-successful gamblers. Big, burly, with features just short of ugly, he was excellently and expensively dressed in a manner that gave no indication of how he earned his living. He glanced quickly to where his partner, David Hunt—whose lean and gaunt physique was clad in a similar fashion—stood close by listening to what was said while studying the “blonde” in a frankly lascivious manner. “We most certainly do, and it is always our pleasure to see it go to a gentleman of distinction like yourself.”

  “There, Maggie-child,” Joseph Brambile boomed in the manner of speech he knew the man he was impersonating invariably used. “I told you we’d come to the right place.”

  “That you did, Third-honey,” Belle Boyd asserted, giving her companion’s left arm a squeeze suggestive of affection, in keeping with the character she wanted to establish for “Magnolia Beauregard,” the name she had chosen to use and would often use in the future as being indicative of her birth and background. “But then, you’re always right about everything, I do declare.”

  “What will your pleasure be, Colonel?” Jacques inquired, and waved a fat hand in a leisurely fashion around the big room. “As you can see, we offer a variety of games of chance, and although I say it myself, you won’t find any better served nor more honest no matter where you go.”

  “If I
doubted that, sir,” the disguised gambler replied with the same feisty bombast, “I would not have brought my niece here in the first place. By the way, allow me to present her. This is Miss Magnolia Beauregard.”

  “Proud to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” the bulky man said formally, with a bow that was deeper than required by convention.

  “Enchante, m’sieur,” Belle responded in poorer French than she would normally have employed, while giving a curtsy that allowed Hunt an opportunity that he took the most advantage of to see down into the daring décolleté of her white crinoline gown’s bodice. ‘Third-honey does so love to gamble, and I enjoy him doing it.”

  “Perhaps you would care for a libation while you are making your choice, Colonel?” Jacques suggested, drawing the intended conclusion that Magnolia Beauregard found the participation in gambling served to stir her elderly keeper sexually. “And you, of course, Mam’zelle Beauregard?”

  “Can I have some champagne, Third-honey?” Belle cooed. “You know how I dearly love what it does to m—the way the bubbles tickle my nose!”

  “I certainly do and you most certainly may” Brambile authorized, also keeping the impression that there was a special significance in the way the first part of the explanation was worded before being altered to something more innocuous. “I’ll take a bourbon, sir, while I’m looking around and deciding at which game I will do my winning from you.”

  “How do you think it’s going, Third-honey?” Belle inquired, just loudly enough for Brambile alone to hear, after they had accepted the drinks that were brought by a colored waiter in response to a signal and order from Jacques and they had started to walk slowly across the room.

  “What a name you’ve picked, Maggie-child,” the gambler replied no more loudly, pleased and amused by the way in which the girl was making it appear that she was cooing sweet nothings into his ear. “But everything’s going along quite satisfactorily so far. The fat feller’s obviously heard of Colonel Ebediah F. Culpepper, which I expected to be the case, but hasn’t made his acquaintance face-to-face.”

  “That could have been difficult.”

  “It could, although I calculated the odds to be in our favor against its having happened. Even if it did, unless they had been on close terms, I was confident I look and sound enough like the good Colonel for him to assume it was only the passage of time which caused any minor discrepancies.”

  At first, although the girl thought the surroundings were even more opulent than those of Captain Anatol de-Farge— which was understandable, as Baton Rouge was a smaller town than Atlanta—neither paid any particular attention at that moment to the various games of chance that were taking place. Rather, they subjected the people who were present to their scrutiny. The staff were well-dressed and, except for the half a dozen large men who loafed around without doing any kind of work or participating in the games, appeared courteously efficient.

  The players were mostly military or naval officers of differing ranks and civilians whose attire implied affluent circumstances. However, there were a few women present. These were alike in being well-dressed and bejeweled. Belle was just wondering which of them were employed by the house. She was just about concluding that she could not tell if this was the case, or they were there either as companions brought by the players or even as participants at the games in their own behalf when she received something of a surprise. It took all her willpower to prevent her perturbation from becoming apparent.

  Standing at the faro bank table, which was doing the most business and appeared to have the highest stakes, clad and jeweled as well as any other woman present, was the curvaceously close-to-buxom and attractive English redhead who called herself Roxanne Fortescue-Smethers!

  For a moment Belle’s eyes locked with those of the redhead.

  Then Roxanne looked away and gave her attention to the man by her side.

  “What’s wrong, B—Maggie-child?” Brambile asked sotto voce, making the alteration to the name he had meant to say even though he was not likely to be overheard. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!”

  “Is it that obvious?” the girl asked, having felt sure she had just managed to prevent her surprise from showing on her face.

  “Only to somebody who knows you as well as I do. So what is it?”

  “I’ve seen somebody I know and I think she may have recognized me.”

  “Hm!’ Brambile breathed noncommittally, and although there was no difference in his face or manner, Belle sensed an air of controlled tension. “Is she a friend, or going by the way you looked likely to prove an enemy?”

  “More of an acquaintance,” the girl admitted, thinking of the night she and the redhead put on what they turned into only a pretense at fighting. Then she gave a shrug and went on, “Well she hasn’t done anything yet and I may be wrong about her recognizing me, so we may as well see if we can do what we came here for.”

  Chapter Two – I Do Believe We’re Being Cheated!

  “I don’t know about you, but I believe we should steer clear of her for the time being,” Joseph Brambile decided sotto voce, glancing at the attractive redheaded woman whom his companion contrived to indicate while prattling on in a louder tone about the way in which the bubbles from the glass of champagne she had been given were tickling her nose. “Let her make the first move, if there is going to be one.”

  “I agree,” Belle Boyd answered, dropping her voice and giving the appearance of nibbling at the gambler’s ear in a flirtatious fashion. “But I hope there won’t be one that could interfere with our plans, because I rather got to like her.”

  “Come, Maggie-dear!” Brambile boomed rather than just said, as befitted his well-performed impersonation of Colonel Ebediah F. Culpepper the Third, wondering how the acquaintanceship had occurred, as the curvaceously close-to-buxom redhead—regardless of being expensively dressed and bejeweled—did not strike him as belonging to the social circles in which his companion mingled before the murder of her parents. In fact, she struck him as being a financially successful “lady of the night” indulging in a passion for gambling while possibly hoping to be brought into contact with a wealthy customer. Another solution could be that she was a shill for the house, intended to encourage others to bet on various games, but he did not consider this likely or she would have found some way of warning her employers that Belle and he were not what they were pretending to be. He extricated himself from the girl’s arm and placed his empty glass on the tray of a passing colored servant, who had paused to accept the one she had contrived to drain while engaging in the low-spoken, flirtatious, yet seemingly innocuous conversation. “Let us away and see whereabouts we shall acquire the wherewithal for the little present I promised you.”

  Although scrupulously honest himself, Brambile had considered it imperative that he acquire very thorough information about the methods employed by professional cheats. Having faith in his ability where such things were concerned, he was convinced that he could detect any malpractices that were being employed by the staff of the gambling house operated by Martin Jacques and David Hunt. As he had told Colonel Charles Jeremiah Mason when summoned to help discover whether the suspicions regarding the way in which the gambling house was being used to help the Union’s cause were correct, he had never heard of the pair but believed he might be able to provide proof if any existed. He had not anticipated being given the assistance of the beautiful and clearly most competent daughter of his old friends Electra and Vincent Boyd, but had soon become satisfied that her presence would be an asset. What was more, going by all he had heard when she was not present from Captain Alexandre Dartagnan and the little Cockney criminal who clearly revered her, he felt sure she would be far from a burden in need of his protection if trouble should occur.

  Memories of how Belle had been prominent in the amateur theatricals often forming part of the entertainment at Baton Royale Manor when he was visiting there and stood out from most of the other performers by virtue of her ability to inj
ect every role she was assigned with realism, the gambler had felt sure she would prove beneficial to him at the gambling house, and that was the reason he had been adamant in the face of Ole Dixie’s opposition. Nor had he had any reason to regret the choice since they arrived. As they started to walk across the big room toward a table where draw poker was being played, watching the way she continued to behave in the manner of somebody with the personality she was giving to her alter ego Magnolia Beauregard, he felt there were professional actresses as well as female participants in confidence tricks and others seeking to lure gullible males by a pretense of featherbrained irresponsibility who could not have bettered her performance.

  Feeling certain that there would be nothing he could achieve at any of the tables where poker was the game, Brambile took advantage of the way in which the girl’s deliberately frivolous chatter was continued to such effect that even the younger players—who at other times would probably have shown an interest in her all too openly flaunted physical attributes—directed glances of annoyance her way. Acting in accordance with the instructions she had received, her declaration that she would sit next to him so she could bring him good fortune by kissing the cards he was dealt—which he had told her was anathema to all dedicated aficionados of the game when carried out by kibitzing members of her sex—aroused the hostility to a point where he used it as an excuse for them to move on with a gesture of what appeared to be apology for her conduct from him.

  While Belle and Brambile continued the circuit of the various games of chance being played, in addition to maintaining the convincing rendering of her part as his far-less-than-intelligent mistress, she kept darting surreptitious glances at the red-haired woman she knew as Roxanne Fortescue-Smethers, who gave the appearance of not being accompanied by anybody else. What the girl noticed did nothing to relieve her concern over what the outcome of the chance encounter might be. On more than one occasion, she found that she was receiving a similar covert scrutiny that was brought to an end as soon as her own gaze was detected. Deciding that the wisest thing for her to do was to follow the suggestion from her companion, she put the matter from her mind and concentrated upon the work they were in the gambling house to do.