Dire Shenanigans (The Making of a Man Series, Book 2)

by Andrew Wareham

  Next morning saw him in the stableyard again, enquiring of the groom where he could sell off his horses quickly and to decent owners.

  “I must go East, I find; Washington first and then to Pittsburgh and after that probably to England – and I can’t take horses with me and don’t know if I’ll be back for months or years. I don’t want to see them sold off cheap to a cab company and whipped to death in the streets here, that’s for sure. What do you reckon?”

  The groom knew just the man he wanted – a livery that handled only riding and pack-horses, sold to travellers going west as a general rule. He would make quite sure that they would be used properly, but he could not guarantee a price for them, being as the Major was in a hurry.

  “They’ve served me well, mister. The price don’t count – take them across to him yourself and put anything you get in your own pocket – with a share to the boys here. But if I come back and hear they was misused, sir, then I shall be mighty upset!”

  The groom did not need to be reminded that he was talking to the Sharps Kid; he swore he would be good.

  Dick tipped his hat in farewell and wandered across the road to the station to discover times and routes of trains. The disruption caused by military traffic was such that timetables had become irrelevant. A northerly progress was recommended to him – best to take the rails to Chicago and then choose his exact route from there. He bought a ticket and then returned to the hotel and checked out; Fisk thought he was to remain for another day or two, which was a good argument for leaving immediately.

  It was a good idea to go to Chicago – he had a bank account there, its exact size unknown to him but not small.

  He identified himself to the manager and was made effusively welcome, sat in a well-padded leather chair with a cigar in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

  “Major Richard Burke, sir, of Kansas City, originally, I believe?”

  Dick nodded and smiled.

  “The well-known firm of Parsons and Burke is to an extent yours, sir, I understand.”

  “I believe I hold an equal partnership, sir, though Miss Parsons has my Power of Attorney while I am at the wars.”

  “Ah… that, of course, I was unaware of, sir. It was not mentioned to me. Miss Parsons has of course achieved a place of some prominence among the new steel industry in Pittsburgh, having taken over the firm of Clausens.”

  “I was unaware of that, sir. I hope to be able to join her in the near future, though I must make my way to Washington first – duty has its demands.”

  They turned to consideration of Dick’s account, which was surprisingly healthy.

  “I am an Englishman, by birth, as you may be aware, sir. I have family in England and would wish to transfer a substantial sum to them. I have an account with the Lancashire Cotton Bank of Liverpool, England and would be obliged if you would send the sum of, shall we say one hundred thousand dollars, to my account there. I shall be travelling much in the next month or two, in the way of duty, and my expenses will be reimbursed to me eventually – but in the first instance I need cash in hand, sir. A thousand in gold would be of great use to me.”

  “Of course, sir. There is a substantial premium, gold on paper, at the moment, sir.”

  “I seem to remember making deposits of significantly more than one thousand in gold coin, sir. There was, I recall, no mention of a premium then.”

  The manager agreed that he was right – the matter had slipped his memory, he said.

  Dick left to purchase a money belt and then to take the cars slowly to Washington. He paid for the most luxurious accommodation, which ensured that he ate and drank coffee during the repeated delays of wartime travel and had a seat all of the way; there were advantages to being rich.

  Lord Robert Kuyper was pleased to see Dick – he had sent his reports to London where they had been well received.

  “Since Antietam there has been no possibility that Her Majesty’s Government will offer recognition to the Confederacy and policy is now to keep on polite terms with President Lincoln. There will still be no real attempt to prevent the launching of Confederate commerce raiders from English yards, of course; that is a different matter. But we can be absolutely certain that no Redcoat army will land in America to support either side. The war is going very well from an English viewpoint – the American mercantile marine has been broken and will soon be non-existent in the Atlantic and the institution of slavery is now a lost cause; it could hardly be better.”

  “And General McClellan, sir?”

  “Who? There is none so dead as a failed politician, sir, particularly one who carries the faintest taint of treachery about his person. He is a forgotten man to all except the Peace Democrats, and their tide is ebbing. This war will be fought to a vicious end and President Lincoln will triumph and will be of a sufficiently great stature to create an honest peace; he is America’s sole hope. Your comments on General Grant have been well-received, as, of course, have his comments on you.”

  “What are they?”

  “You are to receive the Medal of Honor, Mr Burke. Should you wish, you may be promoted rapidly to Brigadier and be given a fighting command in the Army of the East. It would be a wise move if you intend to make a life in the States.”

  “I do not, sir. I like the country, but it is not mine. I do not know what is my place, sir, but I might yet seek to spend a few years in quiet contemplation. I had every intention of spending my terms at Oxford, you know, my lord, but things did not ‘pan out that way’ as they say in the West.”

  “A don with a Walker Colt on his bookshelf, Mr Burke? I have heard of more likely eventualities.”

  Dick laughed – that life was no longer a possibility, he admitted.

  “Government would be obliged to you, Mr Burke, was you to remain in America a little longer. There has been a matter of some concern to them which it might be in your power to tidy up. It seems not impossible that certain young gentlemen in England have become seized by the notion that the institution of the aristocracy, on both sides of the Atlantic, would be much strengthened by a Confederate victory and that this unlikely event might be made possible by the assassination of certain leading military figures in the North. Two gentleman are known to be on the high seas even now…”

  “There is, I presume, no proof of their intentions?”

  “None, Mr Burke. If the matter could be dealt with through the courts of law then it would be. They are second and third sons of the peerage, which means that evidence about them must be clear and irrefutable if any case is to come to court. We have a single name for certain, blabbed to a mistress who works for one of the Departments, and a highly probable second conspirator, both of whom are known to have bought passage across the Atlantic on a French ship – an unlikely course for any English gentleman to take, being far slower, among other matters.”

  “Hence the availability of the information in Washington, my lord. We do not wish to alert the Federal authorities to their existence, for obvious diplomatic reasons, so a simple arrest is not possible. Do we know who they wish to target?”

  “Generals Grant and Sherman have achieved fame in England and are thought to be the first targets. General Rosecrans has done well in his command and Sheridan is a known figure, and Generals Meade and Halleck are achieving prominence in the East. Any of these might be their aim, and they are a thousand miles distant from each other. We do not consider it possible to guard the gentlemen.”

  Dick thought for a few seconds, realised what was being said to him.

  “I am to kill them, in effect.”

  The diplomat pursed his lips at such a blunt utterance, nodded reluctantly.

  “A bullet in the back? Or is a more ‘honourable’ course in your mind?”

  “Crudely murdered, they would offer a ‘cause celebre’, Major Burke. Wild accusations of a plot would be made.”

  “Quite correctly, of course.”

  “Yes, indeed – we must bear in mind that not all accusations o
f conspiracy are figments of the overheated imagination. Ninety-nine per cent is not one hundred, after all!”

  “Thus you require a public quarrel followed by a more or less formal duel. Better to take place in the streets of a western township than in the east where there are nastily obtrusive policemen. Will they, for example, travel to Kansas City where I am known and have a degree of protection?”

  “It might be possible… I am to assume that you will undertake this somewhat unpleasant duty, Mr Burke?”

  “I have a respect for General Grant, driven and tormented soul that he is. I will not see him killed by some would-be mediaeval baron. Get them to the West and they will fall foul of the Sharps Kid, my lord – unless, of course, they are handier with a gun than I hope, in which case they will take a prominent scalp!”

  Dick laughed at the prospect - it would be amusing to discover such an error, the biter bit!

  “They are to dock at Montreal and then make their way stealthily to Buffalo, one understands. They are to be met there by gentlemen belonging to the Knights of the Golden Circle, which is an organisation of some years standing including both Confederates and Northern Democrats – ‘a bunch of raving loonies’ was the wording of the report from the rather uneducated ‘agent’ who infiltrated them, at great risk to his life. It may be possible then to inform them of a secret meeting to be held in Kansas to plan a final strategy to end the rebellion in Texas and Arkansas and to pacify those Indians who have been recruited to the Confederate ranks - several battalions of them, it would seem - involving senior officers from California as well as from General Grant’s command. Our two young lordships might well be tempted away from civilisation to attend this meeting with a barrel of gunpowder.”

  “There is much you are not telling me, my lord. You know their identities and too much of their plans.”

  Kuyper shook his head.

  “I know little more than I have just given you, Mr Burke. Others, in London and elsewhere, must know more, I agree. I suspect they wish to put an end to the conspiracy in London by letting it be known, quite unofficially, that they will not tolerate assassinations in friendly countries. Go to Africa and kill a chief and take his land – that is ordinary colonialisation and not to be blinked at; shoot an American general and we shall be most displeased. Her Majesty may well frown upon them and their families.”

  “When?”

  “Word will be sent to you at the earliest moment, Mr Burke. For the while, I suggest you take the cars to Kansas City. You may offer the suggestion that you are interested in land, perhaps, to give a reason for your presence.”

  "I believe it is a matter of a stagecoach for the final distance, my lord. The railroad is still, one understands, under construction."

  "A nuisance. Arrangements will be made, I assure you, Mr Burke. You have made no mention of payment for your services, sir?"

  "I am, surprising though it may sound, a loyal Englishman, my lord. I am also, I discover, not unwealthy, due to my own endeavours in part only. I do not need to work for money, and would far rather not be regarded as a killer for hire."

  "I believe I stand rebuked, Mr Burke - perhaps I should have realised that you are indeed a man of honour, as your medal suggests."

  "You flatter me, my lord. How am I to know the names of the two gentlemen I am to deal with?"

  "There will be a message. You will stay at the Parsons Place, in the nature of things, and will find a note one fine morning. It will mention me as 'Dutch Bob' - the surname came from Holland with William and Mary, of course. Any other missive not containing those words is to be ignored and is to be treated as evidence that we are compromised, in which case you will save your skin as you can, getting out of America as quickly as possible."

  Dick took his leave and made his way a little wearily back to the station; he was growing tired of the railroad.

  He was even more tired when the stage bumped into Kansas City four days later; he stepped down, Sharps on his shoulder by way of stating his presence, and pulled his one large travelling valise from the boot and trudged into the Parsons Place.

  The desk clerk was unchanged, made a performance of welcoming him and of knowing his name.

  "Major Richard Burke, sir! We are honoured indeed to welcome you again!"

  The imitation English accent brought a grin and raised eyebrows at the tables across the main room. A few nods of recognition came immediately and there was a hum across the room as his name was passed to those who did not know him.

  "Thank you, Bob! A room for a week or two, if you would be so good, sir! I have some days in hand and want to look about at possibilities of settling down in a few years, after this damned war is over."

  "If it ever ends, Major!"

  He was taken upstairs and put into a single room with a brass bedstead and very little else with apologies that everything better was taken - the military was here and most of the wives and families had settled into the Parsons Place for a few months.

  "It is wartime and I need little of luxury, Bob. Where's best to eat these days?"

  "Ma Gracey's Kitchen, Major. She can burn a steak with the best and even puts up a potato or two some days. She does a real good pie though!"

  "Still a gun-carrying town, Bob?"

  "Same as ever, Major."

  Dick took the Navy Colt out of his valise and went through the familiar painstaking process of loading; cap-and-ball was a nuisance but the piece was well balanced and he knew it. He tucked it into the holster high on his left hip, butt forward as was his habit. He had heard that a few men had taken to carrying low on the right thigh, just at the level the hand naturally fell to, and were said to be 'fast draw' experts; the name of Cullen Baker was said to be associated with it, in Texas, he was told. Not for him, he would be content simply to shoot straight.

  He ate his meal and took early to his bed - he was tired by incessant travelling.

  In the morning he wandered down the main street to find an attorney-at-law and make a show of looking about for land and a place to settle on.

  "Are there sections of land or farms once settled and now for sale, sir?"

  "Too much and too many, Major Burke! Men have died and their widows have been unable to keep a homestead up on their own, have drifted back east to their families in the towns there. Many and many a good piece of farmland has gone back to the wild and been left with no taxes paid and so the title lost to the State. A hundred dollars or so will buy a section, and there is no limit to the number of such sections a man might pick up for himself."

  "Was I to put, say ten thousand cash dollars in your hand, sir, could you deal with the formalities for me? Pieces as close together as could be; contiguous the best."

  Dick made his way to the bank and made himself known and sat an hour with the manager; he came away with arrangements made to contact his bank in Chicago and transfer funds to his new account. Most folks, he was told, were concerned to take whatever money they could put together back east; it was a pleasure to deal with a man who wanted to build the town up.

  He was at a loose end and needed to be seen in Kansas City - the local people must know that he was here on legitimate business. The idea that he had come for a more specific purpose must be quashed before it rose. He made his way to the tented military camps on the outskirts and was stopped by an alert picket of five men before he could reach the main street.

  "My name is Burke, Major Richard Burke, and I am attached to the Inspector-General's department at the moment. I would wish to make my presence known at the headquarters here."

  The corporal stood to attention and sent one of his men to fetch the duty officer.

  "Orders, sir. Rebs are makin' a push agin, sir, down south a ways. They ain't gettin' past us, sir."

  "And for the while you need to keep a check on the gates. Quite right, too. You don't need some damned Southron setting a fuze in the artillery's powder magazine."

  "Wouldn't fancy that at all, sir. Not by a damned sight!"
<
br />   A young captain appeared and established who Dick was, quickly scanning his papers.

  "Come with me, if you would be so good, Major."

  The captain was not yet of age, Dick thought, but he carried himself confidently, like a man who had seen most things life had to offer.

  "Posted here long, Captain?"

  "Three weeks since, Major Burke. Wounded at Antietam and sent out here because there ain't none of the battalion left to rejoin. We hit that God-damned sunken road, sir."

  Dick had heard of the slaughter at Antietam and of the poor generalship that had fed battalions piecemeal into the battle, brigade by brigade instead of in a single overwhelming assault. The mistakes made at the First Bull Run had been repeated at Antietam; nothing had been learned because McClellan knew everything already.

  "Murderous, from all I have been told, Captain."

  "Butchery, sir. Men in their lines marching forward across an open field against rifles in a natural entrenchment. Murderous ain't the word to use for that general, sir! I heard tell you was to be a colonel, sir, with a Brigade of your own?"

  "I am an Englishman still, Captain, and my government is neutral and does not want any of their people to take a command in this war. I hate slavery, sir, and will not stand aside from the fight against it, but my life is in my own country still."

  "Fair enough, sir - I suppose we must thank you for all you have done, but I would surely admire to join your Brigade if ever you take one, sir!"

  "I have been asked to perform other duties now, sir. I think that it is better that an American army is led by American citizens, of whom there are very many possessing the necessary skill and strength of mind."