by J. T. Edson
The journey north took longer than coming down to New Orleans. There could be no travelling by day under a pile of bushes as that would only attract attention. So at dawn each day the Jack halted at the first suitable spot and hid in some way until darkness left them free to move on again. Clearly the Yankees did not suspect their method of escape, for no search of the up-river side of New Orleans was made.
At last they turned off the Mississippi and up the Red River. Despite being in comparatively safe waters, Pinckney waited until nightfall before trying to reach Alexandria. So far the Yankees did not know of the Jack’s presence on the Upper Mississippi and he wanted to keep it that way. So he chanced dangers of passing through the spar-torpedo field in the darkness rather than make an appearance in the city’s dock area during daylight and in view of possible Yankee spies.
Dusty and Belle landed at the same lagoon from which they embarked. Nor did they waste time in celebrating their successful mission. As soon as she could arrange, Belle and Dusty boarded a sidewheel riverboat and carried on with their trip to rejoin Ole Devil.
“You’ve done well, Miss Boyd, Dustine,” said the General in a grim satisfaction as he listened to their report. “And how about your friends?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Belle admitted. “You’ve heard nothing?”
“Not a thing.”
After the War Dusty learned that Madam Lucienne and Paupin made good their departure on a British ship after being kept hidden by Bludso until the Yankees gave up an extensive search for the wreckers of the counterfeiting plant. No suspicion fell on Bludso, although Pinkerton himself conducted an investigation into the deaths of Turnpike’s party. For the rest of the War Bludso served the South well and with peace returned to being a riverboat engineer on a new Prairie Belle.
Not that Dusty and Belle knew anything of their friends as they sat in Ole Devil’s office on their return.
“Any news for me, General?” asked the girl.
“You’re to go as soon as possible to Atlanta,” Ole Devil replied. “Dustine, that damned guerilla Hannah’s come into our area again. Tomorrow you’ll take your company, a sharpshooter and mountain howitzer and bring in the whole stinking bunch.”
A mission had been completed at great risk, but that did not end the War. Short of men, Ole Devil could not afford the luxury of keeping his favourite nephew and a full company of men sitting idle.
“I’ll be gone when you come back, Dustine,” the girl said as she and the small Texan left the office. “Thanks for everything.”
“What’ll you be doing in Atlanta, Belle?” he inquired.
“I’ll not know until I reach there.”
“Why don’t you give it up while you can, Belle?” Dusty said. “You nearly lost your life this time.”
“I can’t give it up. It’s in my blood, Dusty. Lord knows what I’ll do when the War’s over. There’ll be no more need for me or my talents then.”
And Belle laughed. Neither she nor Dusty realised that the War would soon be over; or how there would still in peace be work for the Rebel Spy.
* * *
Author’s note: For details of Dusty’s hunt after Hannah’s Guerillas and his next meeting with the Rebel Spy, read THE BAD BUNCH.
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Scanned and proofed by Amigo da Onça
