by J. T. Edson
‘I don’t know who she went to,’ Buller pointed out.
‘Cutler does,’ the brunette asserted.
‘That’s likely,’ the General conceded. ‘She admitted she knew four men who might be willing to take Frenchie on to fight for them and I’m willing to bet she could take it closer than that.’
‘Then we’ll have to make her “take it closer”!’ Mary stated viciously. ‘And I’ll see to it she does!’
‘Like hell you will!’ the General refused vehemently. ‘Or, if you’re aiming to do anything to her, don’t let me hear of it. She’s in with too many real important people around this town for anything like that.’
‘Then what do you intend to do?’ the brunette inquired, having received an almost identical response to her proposal of reprisals against Mrs. Cutler from the two men she had had brought to see her the previous night.
‘I’m thinking on it,’ Buller replied evasively. ‘Weren’t you saying something about having a couple of fellers who’d do things for you at Wigg’s last night?’
‘I was,’ Mary conceded, then glanced at the lieutenant before continuing, ‘When did you say you’re leaving for Arkansas, General?’
‘I told Montreigen to be ready to pull out just after noon today,’ Buller replied, taking what he realized had been a hint from the brunette. ‘Go and tell him he can get moving, Mr. Cryer. If she’s so minded, Miss Wilkinson can come with me when I follow in the coach.’
‘I’m not packed ready for leaving,’ the aide-de-camp objected, realizing something was in the air and wanting to be party to whatever it might be.
‘You’ll have plenty of time to do it when you get back,’ Buller answered, scowling angrily. ‘But I want everything on its way today, well before nightfall, or I’ll make somebody wish it had been!’
‘Yes, sir!’ Cryer assented, but with bad grace.
‘Well,’ Buller said, after the lieutenant had taken a reluctant departure from the suite. ‘What were you going to say last night?’
‘What the dinner should have been all about if that yellow bellied son-of-a-bitch, Horace Trumpeter, hadn’t started the others backing off from it,’ Mary replied, interspersing her words with needless profanities. ‘Killing that old bastard, Lincoln. And, as far as you’re concerned, it’s even more urgent to have that done now. If he gets just one hint of what you’re going to use against those Rebel sons-of-bitches in Arkansas, he’ll have you stopped.’
‘Go on!’ Buller prompted, as the brunette allowed her tirade to trail to an end in a way which implied there was much more to be said.
‘I’ll get rid of Lincoln for you,’ Mary promised.
‘You?’ the General challenged.
‘Not me personally,’ the brunette admitted. ‘But those two men I mentioned will do it, if they think the price is high enough.’
‘I don’t reckon you had them with you last night,’ Buller stated rather than asked, thinking disdainfully of the trio who had accompanied Mary to the dinner party.
‘No, although they have their uses,’ the brunette replied, more as a defense of her judgment in choosing associates than out of any sense of loyalty to her three young adherents. ‘They’re a couple of copperheads xviii who deserted rather than chance being caught by the Rebs. But each is a dead shot and I’ve got them a Sharps rifle apiece which will kill at over a mile. There’s a place well inside that distance which offers a clear shot at the study window where Lincoln stands looking out regularly. Either one could hit him from there and, with both trying, it makes things doubly certain.’
‘You’re sure they’ll do it?’
‘They’ll kill their own mothers, was the pay enough and they believed they could get away with doing it.’
‘That kind don’t strike me’s being any too reliable in a pinch,’ Buller stated dubiously.
‘Nor would they be,’ Mary conceded. ‘So I intend to make sure they aren’t able to be unreliable as soon as they’ve done their job. But even then they’ll still be of use to you and me.
‘How do you mean?’ the General queried, genuinely puzzled.
‘They’ll be killed as soon as they’ve shot him,’ the brunette explained, as calmly as if she were discussing the weather ‘And there’s going to be enough information on them to “prove” they aren’t copperheads, but genuine Rebs who came here to kill Lincoln. With him dead, there’s going to be so much confusion getting somebody to take his place, nobody will give a damn what happens out in Arkansas. Then, when word comes back of how you’ve licked those peckerwood bastards, Lincoln being so popular, everybody will be clamoring for enough of that liquid of yours to finish off the rest of them.’
‘You’ve thought this all out pretty well,’ Buller praised then his brows narrowed in suspicion. ‘Or did you know what Aaranovitch was up to?’
‘Not until you told me about it,’ Mary replied reassuringly ‘I’d got the rest of it figured out, though. Your liquid jus makes his death that much better for us.’
‘Who’s going to kill those fellers?’ the General inquired. ‘I wouldn’t want to leave it to the three you had with you last night.’
‘Or me,’ Mary seconded. ‘Can you let me have somebody?’
‘The only one I’d want to count on is Montreigen,’ Buller stated, then he growled an imprecation and went on, ‘But I’ve sent him off with Aaranovitch!’
‘So much the better,’ Mary claimed. ‘It will give him perfect alibi. When you catch up, have him come back ii civilian clothes and meet me. We’ll do it together and follow on horseback to join you along the way.’
Looking at the shapely brunette, the General concluded he had sold her short the previous evening. Instead of being no more than a loud mouthed young woman trying to act like a man, she was shrewd and had the completely ruthless nature required to pull off her daring plan. There was, to his warped way of thinking, something else in favor of letting her join his entourage. She might make an adequate substitute for the departed ‘Francoise’. As she had proved at the dinner party, she was willing to fight and, perhaps, was subject to a similar sexual stimulation after being engaged in physical combat. While she had lost at Wigg’s mansion, she had performed better than any other woman he had seen with the exception of the ‘redhead’. What was more, as he had envisaged for’ the ‘French Canadian’ girl, she would be the unexpected combatant offering a source of lucrative wagering.
‘All right!’ Buller said enthusiastically. ‘We’ll play it the way you want!’
‘I thought you might,’ Mary asserted. ‘Where is that red haired bitch?’
‘I don’t know,’ Buller replied. ‘She ran out on me last night after I fell asleep.’
‘It’s lucky for her she did!’ the brunette declared. ‘I just hope I meet her again sometime when she doesn’t have that fat blonde whore to help her. Shall we get going, General?’
‘Sure,’ Buller replied. ‘I’ll tell Barnes to get my things together!’
‘Barnes?’ Mary repeated, noticing how the General glanced towards the door of the main bedroom.
‘Wigg’s butler,’ Buller explained. ‘Or rather he was Wigg’s butler. I’ve hired him this morning.’
‘He’s in there?’ the brunette demanded, looking at the door.
‘Sure,’ the General agreed. ‘But don’t worry, he’s busy working and couldn’t have heard what we’ve been saying.’
If Buller had been able to see into the main bedroom, he would have learned he was in error!
Standing by the connecting door, Barnes held the top of a glass against the panel and its base was pressed to his left ear. This simple device had allowed him to overhear the entire. conversation.
Ten – You Want Us to Down Old Honest Abe
‘Well now, fancy miss,’ David Blunkett remarked, his voice indicating his origins were south of the Mason-Dixon line, darting a glance at William Kendall. ‘That’s a right tidy sum you’re offering Cousin Billy ’n’ me. Who-all’s putting it up?’
> ‘You’re getting it,’ Mary Wilkinson replied. ‘Isn’t that enough?’
Having travelled on horseback to the small farmhouse some seven miles north of Washington, District of Columbia, the yellowish-brunette was dressed much as she had been when attending the dinner party at George Wigg’s mansion apart from having left off the cravat and cutaway jacket. However, suspended on the slings of a weapon belt about her slender waist, she was armed with an epee de combat in the use of which she had considerable skill. She had already made sure the men she was visiting knew that. She had removed her cloak and hat on entering, leaving them on the chair by the door of the sitting-room in which the meeting was taking place shortly before ten o’clock on the day of her interview with Brigadier General Moses J. Buller.
Tallish, lanky, with unprepossessing and unshaven faces, the deserters wore clothing suggestive of them being ordinary farm hands. When appearing outside, giving an impression of working the property which belonged to one of Mary’s uncles who was serving with the Army in the South, Blunkett walked with a pronounced limp and Kendall carried his right arm in a leather tube and sling to explain why two men of their age were not serving in one of the fighting services.
‘You can’t get no more, can you?’ Kendall asked, his accent similar to that of his slightly taller cousin.
‘No!’ the brunette stated, although the sum she had been authorized to pay by Buller was in excess of the amount quoted when telling the deserters what was wanted from them. ‘But I do have something to boot, I think you call it, which is worth far more than just money.’
‘Ain’t many things’s I’d say is worth more’n money!’ Kendall growled. ‘Jewels, maybe, ’cepting a couple of poor old country boys like us’d likely have a slew of trouble saying how we come by ’em.’
‘It isn’t jewels,’ Mary admitted.
‘What’d it be then, fancy miss?’ Blunkett inquired.
‘Two genuine certificates of discharge from the Army on the grounds of ill health,’ the brunette explained. ‘With them and the money, you can go anywhere you want throughout the country without running the risk of being suspected as deserters.’
‘Hell!’ Kendall snorted. ‘We’re doing pretty well at that right now, so I’d say my say for more money was I give my druthers.’
‘How about you, Mr. Blunkett?’ Mary said, knowing him to be the more intelligent of the pair. ‘Do you want to spend the rest of the War, at least, hiding out here and having to remember all the time you’re supposed to have a crippled leg?’
‘Well no, ma’am, I can’t rightly say’s I do,’ said the taller cousin. ‘Them certificates’d sure come in handy, us not taking over kind to being tied to this old farm and hankering for some good times in a city. You wouldn’t have ’em ’long of you, I reckon?’
‘I wouldn’t!’ the brunette declared and nodded to where looking nervous despite having a Colt 1860 Army revolve thrust prominently into his waistband, Eric Lubbock was standing by the door. ‘Nor has my friend. You’ll get them and the money as soon as I see Lincoln go down and not moment before.’
‘Don’t you trust us?’ Kendall growled.
‘Not enough to give you everything you need to leave before you’ve earned it,’ Mary admitted frankly, but it was clear her next words were directed at the other deserter. ‘No, you can’t blame me for that, can you?’
‘I wouldn’t’ve blamed you for being careful even had w been inter-duced all proper-like,’ Blunkett asserted amiably ‘By grab though, you surely put one over on us that night!
Having deserted, after a narrow escape from capture by Confederate troops, who had an understandable antipathy towards Southrons serving in the Union Army and who were inclined to take lethally painful reprisals against any falling into their hands, the cousins had kept going until chance had led them to Washington. It had not been the intention of the pair to remain in the vicinity of the Capital, but the matter was taken from their hands. Needing money, they had waylaid Mary and Alister Graham one night in the city’s low ren district. The young man had surrendered and pleaded not to be hurt, while offering his wallet, but she had proved a different proposition.
Diverting the attention of the pair by opening the front of her shirt and displaying her otherwise naked bosom, the brunette had produced a Smith & Wesson Army Model No. 1 revolver from the pocket of her cutaway coat. While its octagonal barrel had been reduced from six inches to two for ease of concealment and its caliber was only .32, its cylinder held five metallic case cartridges. What was more, not only had she withdrawn to a distance greater than they could hope to reach thereby using the clubs which were their only weapons, the facility she displayed in handling it warned she was far from making a gesture of harmless or panic stricken defiance.
Always the quicker witted of the cousins, realizing the futility of resistance, Blunkett had ordered Kendall to stand still. Then he had sought to avoid being turned over to the authorities by claiming they were a couple of sharpshooters on furlough and were trying to obtain money to rejoin their regiment after having been robbed of their uniform in a cheap brothel. When Graham had offered to fetch the police, Mary, ever ready to exploit any situation chance put her way, had told him to wait. Having drawn an accurate conclusion about their loyalties from their accents, she stated she did not believe the story. She had declared she would help the men provided they could prove to her satisfaction they were qualified as 'snipers’, although she used the current military description for that term. Accepting there was no other course open to them, unless they wished to chance either being shot or having local peace officers attracted to the vicinity, Blunkett had asserted that proof would be forthcoming if they were given a chance to show their skills.
Mary had been able to provide that chance. Having been asked to take care of the farm in the absence of her uncle, she had not kept on its hired hands, and she used it solely as a location at which she could practice her riding, shooting and fencing. She had also found it allowed her to let her three companions fire the Sharps Model of 1852 breech loading percussion rifles she had obtained for a sinister purpose. .52 in caliber, equipped with a telescopic sight, they were the longest ranged and most accurate shoulder arms available. However, she had very soon concluded none of the trio would ever become a sufficiently skilled marksman to do what she required.
Escorting the deserters to the property, in such a way that they had been given no opportunity of escaping, the brunette had satisfied herself that each possessed the ability to be regarded as a sharpshooter. Offering them a safe haven, with plenty of good food and liquor provided, she had then sought for financial and influential backing to put her scheme into operation. She had learned of the incautious way President Abraham Lincoln frequently stood before the undraped window of his study and she had selected a place of concealment within the range of the Sharps. While certain the pair could produce the required result, she had known they would demand a much larger sum of money and would also try to find out if somebody of far greater importance than herself would be prepared to pay more. She had attended the dinner party in the hope of gathering that information, for herself. Despite the defeat she had suffered threatening to put her scheme in jeopardy, it seemed another turn of fate had provided her with the wealthy backer she needed.
Although Major Saul Montreigen had not yet returned from escorting David Aaranovitch, Mary had been too impatient to wait for him. Instead, wanting to impress Buller with her efficiency, she had come to the farm to conclude the business arrangements with the deserters. Being disinclined to trust them any further than was necessary, she had brought her three adherents and all were armed. Knowing her limitations in its use, she had left the Colt Model of 1851 Navy revolver—which she owned in addition to the Smith & Wesson now in the pocket of her cloak—in the holster attached to her horse’s saddle. She was placing her reliance upon the epee as she could produce and wield it with far greater speed.
The negotiations had not been protracted. On
learning who they were required to kill, despite having served against their home State, apparently giving their support to the Union, the deserters had asked only how much they would be paid and how they could escape when the task was completed. After having accepted the price and agreed on the arrangements, Blunkett had raised the point which Mary had expected, yet had hoped to avoid. It appeared at first to have passed notice, partly due to the greed displayed by Kendall. However, her hope that the subject was forgotten failed to materialize.
‘Just who-all do you have behind you, fancy miss?’ the taller deserter went on, after the last remark about the way in which he and his cousin had met the brunette.
‘What makes you think there is somebody?’ Mary challenged.
‘Well now,’ Blunkett replied. ‘What we’ve heard when we snuck into town, you and your family ain’t what I’d call real important folks. Not anywheres close enough to keep us safe should things go wrong.’
‘Who is?’ the brunette inquired grimly, wondering when the pair had visited Washington in defiance of her orders to remain on the farm. ‘If anything should go wrong, which isn’t likely as long as you do everything I tell you, nobody could be important enough to keep you safe.’
‘I don’t mean’s how we could be got out of it like all we’d done was get caught stealing chickens, fancy miss,’ the taller deserter corrected. ‘But a feller with enough pull, knowing’s how we could put his neck in a noose ’long of our’n, would sure throw his weight to the harness should things go wrong regardless of you saying’s how they can’t. So, happen you want us to down old Honest Abe for you, we’ll have to know who-all’s back of you.’
‘That’s fair enough,’ Mary conceded, deciding Blunkett was shrewder than she had anticipated and wondering whether he would consider Buller of sufficient importance or if she should name somebody of greater social prominence. Concluding it was immaterial, as she had no intention of allowing the deserters to live once the task was performed, she continued, ‘Naturally, I haven’t anything in writing from him to prove this, but my backer is—!’