Lamb to the Slaughter

by Tony Masero

  Belle watched Kirby as he sat by the window keeping an eye on the deserted and bleak landscape outside.

  The air was chill and she had wrapped the greatcoat around her and pulled it tighter now as the sky lightened through the grubby window.

  ‘How did you find me?’ she asked.

  ‘I had word from Pinkerton,’ Kirby answered without turning. ‘Seems you have something of import he needs to hear.’

  ‘It’s been a while, Kirby,’ she said with a slow smile ‘How have you been?’

  ‘Getting by,’ he said, turning to face her at last.

  ‘It’s good to see you.’

  Kirby felt encouraged by her words and noticed that her face was grubby with coal dust and sweat from the run and he crouched down beside her and tenderly wiped her face clean.

  He grinned, ‘You’re looking swell and I missed you, honey. How’s it been here in Richmond? I hear you married that Monette fellow.’

  Belle shrugged dismissively, ‘Part of the game but that’s all over now. He’s suing for divorce and I can’t say I’m sorry. There was nothing pleasant about being tied to that wretched man, believe me.’

  Kirby sniffed, he was jealous of her time with Monette but suppressed the sensation. It had angered him when he had heard that she had given herself to the pompous Colonel, despite knowing it was a necessity of disguise in her mission to infiltrate the Confederacy at its center. He tilted his head to listen as the sound of the distant artillery started up again.

  ‘Well, we’re in a tad of a fix here,’ he said. ‘This place will be in uproar with the Federal army coming on. It’ll be like a beehive out there.’

  ‘What are our chances?’

  ‘I guess you’ll know that better than me, you’ve been here a while and know the lay of the land.’

  ‘Let’s see then. The most viable and quickest routes of escape out of here are the five main railroads coming into Richmond. On the north side of the river are the Fredericksburg and Potomac tracks, with the Virginia Central and over here the Petersburg and Richmond and the Richmond and Danville. Neither of those last two are any use to us. There’s four major forts, Fort Winder not far away from us now. A couple over to the west of the city by the reservoir and cemetery and two to the north alongside the railroad. But the whole place is ringed with encampments from the Iron Works right the way around up to Richmond Hill and over to the east at Church Hill. All of the tracks and roadways out of town are blockaded and well guarded. We’re caught in a circle and once word is out it’ll be the devil of a job breaking through.’

  ‘What about the James River?’

  ‘There’s a busy dock area below Libby Hill to the east along the river and the fifth railroad, the Richmond and York River Railroad runs in there. All of that area is well guarded but it’s the way out to Chesapeake Bay and the sea.’

  ‘Still our best bet if that’s the route our army’s taking as they come in,’ decided Kirby.

  ‘Not right now though, I’m kind of tuckered out and hungry. We didn’t get a lot to eat in that jail.’

  ‘I’ll sneak out later and see what I can find. What was it Pinkerton found so interesting that he needed you pulled out?’

  ‘Well, if it wasn’t just for my natural abilities and the fact that I faced a firing squad,’ she smiled ruefully. ‘Then I guess my contact, Jules made it safely away and carried word of what I found out at the Ironworks. A massive amount of iron plate being manufactured. They’re so low on raw materials here they wouldn’t expend it unless it was for something mighty important.’

  Kirby brooded on it for a while but came up with no answer, ‘Anything else?’

  ‘No,’ she paused. ‘I don’t know if its worth consideration but there was one thing that’s been troubling me. Two soldiers I saw. Kind of strange, as they seemed to be occupying the same body, one day he’s in infantry dress the very next an artilleryman. I went to check them out and both men had made off and deserted within days of each other. But I swear to you they were one and the same person in reality.’

  ‘You think Pinkerton has other agents here you don’t know about?’

  Belle pouted, ‘I doubt it; we’d be falling over each other if that were the case. He’s too smart to let that happen.’

  ‘I guess. But best we get some rest now, it could be the invading army will be successful out there and come on in and take the city and that will ease all our troubles.’

  They settled down comfortably next to each other and soon Belle was asleep, her head resting on Kirby’s shoulder. He felt the tickle of her hair against his cheek and smelt the warm scent of her skin so close to him and the nearness encouraged a tightness in his groin. He looked down at her parted lips and softly lidded eyes and wanted nothing more than to sweep her up and kiss her long and soundly.

  It was the devil of a damned thing, he considered. To care for one so hard and have no hint of any response. It made him restless and uncomfortable, to restrain himself and control his need. But his inclinations were not to force himself on a lady and he held Belle in too high an esteem to make any overt gestures whilst she slept. He breathed deeply, relaxing his tension and giving in to the ambiguity that lay between them. Hell, he thought, if I have to love you from afar, woman, then that’s the way it must be. Shoot though, I just hope I can keep myself in check long enough.

  With that settled, he too then slept.

  Courtney Monette had not slept all night.

  He had cradled a bottle of brandy for most of the night and sat in his office mulling over his woes. The shame of it stung him worst of all. To be removed from his situation as quartermaster and demoted into a position that nobody credited much above that of a janitor was a severe blow to his dignity.

  His lowly position amounted to no more than a clerk in the offices of the Signal Bureau, the South’s central espionage unit. A unit that was not credited with much value, as the whole idea of such underhand skullduggery was dismissed out of hand by those highly placed officers of more noble ethical beliefs.

  No amount of pleading on his part had done any good. The assessment board had found him neglectful in his duties and although he was to receive no formal punishment he was punished nonetheless. He was forbidden to enter the stores again, he lost all of his command along with his position and also his lucrative pay grade was withdrawn. He was marooned, pushed to one side and shunned by all who had once shared in his fortunes and reveled in the good times with him.

  The dark office he had been relegated to was small and in back of city hall, it was almost a basement, he realized. No more than a black houseboy’s slave quarters at one time he guessed. Windowless and there were stains of damp and mold in the dank corners. One orderly! That was all he warranted now, a single lackluster private to see to his needs. It was an insult. Could they not understand, he fretted, how impossible it was for him to have known his wife was in with the enemy? She had disguised it so well, hiding her secret life under the veil of an affected society princess. And the money she had cost him. The dresses and shoes, the hats, jewelry and finery. God! How he hated her.

  Even the sex had not been worth a tin whistle. The initial flood of lust soon dying out to be replaced with indifference and then after that there were the others, the bedfellows amongst the officer class whose brains she had picked. He felt deeply the embarrassment and shame of it now that all was revealed. Not only was he a cuckold but also a tricked fool.

  Monette squirmed in his office chair at the thought.

  He pushed the almost empty brandy bottle into a desk drawer and sat brooding with his head in his hands. At least all was not lost. That at least he could take refuge in. He had taken something with him from the Quartermaster store and that he would keep to himself. After all with all his black market dealings lost to him he needed something to keep the wolf from the door. The Cause would look after him as long as he supplied them with what they needed.

  There was a knock that brought his head up blearily.


  ‘Yes,’ he called.

  The sloppy private entered, swinging back the door and idly tossing a finger to his brow in salute.

  ‘Got two deserters here. Captain at Castle Thunder sent them up.’

  ‘Alright,’ said Monette, with little interest. He had already interviewed a chain of mostly illiterate Northern soldiers with little information or anything to say of any interest except to ask when they would be next fed and he was bored with the whole process. ‘Any news from the front?’

  ‘They’re close now but General Longstreet’s holding them off at Williamsburg, the supply train and artillery are falling back to Richmond though. It don’t look good, Colonel.’

  Williamsburg, Monette thought sadly, where the great president Thomas Jefferson had first fallen in love and danced with an unrequited love a hundred years before. If he had known what his city would become. A bloody battleground where men of the nation he had so treasured fought each other so bitterly.

  ‘I believe they’re knocking on our door,’ said Monette morosely, as the booming guns sounded hollowly outside the walls of the city hall.

  The private shrugged, ‘You want these fellows brought in?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘In here,’ said the private and ushered in Joe Bellows and Obie.

  Monette looked them over. What a pretty pair, he thought as his eye roved over the mud stained uniforms torn by thorns and ripped at elbow and ankle. Their unshaven chins and unkempt hair did nothing to add to the appearance of two men who looked like a pair of ragamuffin beggars.

  Monette drew a deep breath and wished he had finished off the bottle in his drawer.

  ‘And what have you two got to say for yourselves?’

  ‘We saw the two spies, Colonel,’ said Joe, leaning forward eagerly, his eyes narrowing. ‘I know them both. Belle Slaughter and Kirby Langstrom. They work for Pinkerton.’

  Monette started back surprised. ‘You know them!’

  ‘Indeed I do,’ confirmed Joe. ‘She weren’t nothing but a saloon lady and him a two-bit gun hand when I knew them back in Nebraska.’

  ‘A common saloon girl,’ Monette gasped in momentary shock, as he had only known Belle in her more presentable society form and Kirby as her accompanying country cousin.

  ‘Scum, the pair of them,’ said Joe.

  ‘What of her cousin, this Kirby Langstrom?’

  ‘They ain’t cousins, not at all. No relation, although the way he cares for her I reckon he’s got hot feelings for the girl.’

  Not another one, sighed Monette mentally.

  ‘I know what’s coming your way, Colonel,’ Joe went on quickly. ‘I have complete knowledge of McClellan’s army.’

  Monette sniffed in boredom, ‘I guess that will mean little now, the beggars will be in amongst us soon enough.’

  ‘Still, we came over to make report. That was our intention, to serve the South.’

  ‘And so you shall,’ said Monette, an idea beginning to slowly trickle through his mind as he studied Joe. ‘I need good unattached men ready to ready to follow the flag. How are you at a little underhand work, do you think? Something that will line your pockets as well as satisfy your call to loyalty.’

  Joe chewed at his lower lip a moment. The two had seen kindred spirits in each other, the minute they had entered the room. Some instinct that guides those of an equal frame of mind came into play and Joe fell in right away with Monette’s meaning. Some slant in the sly way the Colonel spoke, the predatory lean forward as he announced his intention, crouching as if a miser counting his money. These were all signals to Joe, symptoms of a deceitful mind at work, whose goal was not service to any flag or noble cause but rather gain for self.

  ‘Am I to take it, sir? That this might not be of a strictly legal nature?’ he asked.

  ‘We are at war are we not?’ Monette intoned pompously. ‘Legality ended with the first shot. Now we must fight the best way we can, with whatever we can.’

  ‘True, sir. Very true. And yet we must survive, is that not so? This dreadful war cannot last forever. One has to look to the future when the fighting is done.’

  Monette chuckled, pleased that they were in accord, ‘I see you understand me perfectly. What is your name?’

  ‘Joseph Bellows, sir and my companion here is Obie Tallant. We are both at your service.’

  ‘Splendid, Bellows. Well, you shall both be seconded to my department forthwith. See that fool outside and he will sort out billets for you, tell him you shall have uniforms at my instruction. I have to see someone shortly at headquarters and then I think we shall be able to proceed with your mission.’

  Joe smiled confidently and rubbed his hands together gleefully, ‘I’m sure we shall do well.’

  Monette’s face tightened abruptly, ‘One thing, Bellows. Do not ever think you can do better without my guidance. I hold a tight hand on things and will have no clever fellow think he can go it alone. Be assured there is much at play here and I brook no clever schemes outside my direction.’

  ‘Oh, no, sir,’ Joe said quickly. ‘No such thought entered my mind, I swear it.’

  ‘Then, be advised. My reach is far and wide in this venture, far beyond your expectations,’ Monette eyed them keenly, determined to impress the dangers of crossing him. ‘If you do well, we all do well. If not, then there is no hole deeper than hell that you may hide in, be assured of that.’

  Both men were sobered and nodded agreement accordingly.

  ‘One other thing before you go,’ said Monette. ‘If you see hair or hide of Slaughter and Langstrom you have my permission to kill them on sight, even better if you can take them alive and bring then to me I shall then see to it a just penance is handed out. A most harsh penance. Particularly to the woman, she is my special preference, you understand?’

  ‘Yes sir,’ they chorused.

  Chapter Twelve

  Kirby used the darkness of the mountainous piles of coal to slip amongst the shadows of the yard on his way back to the shed.

  They had slept through the best part of the day and as the evening approached Kirby had set off to find them some food and water. He had struck lucky in the marshaling yards on the opposite side of the huge coal dump. The small hamlet of Manchester on the shores of the James River south of Richmond were home to the railroad fuel supplies and Kirby had found a team of railway workers off-loading coal from a supply barge.

  He had managed to steal a worker’s supper in the form of a pail of beer and a waxed paper fold of meat and bread and was making his way back to Belle at their hiding place in the unused shed.

  Kirby could not get over the unnerving sensation that he was being watched and as he slipped past the black heaps that towered around him in cresting mountains he kept twisting his head to check behind. He halted in the deeper shadows of a haulage wagon and waited, his nerves taut in expectation.

  But there was nothing. No sound of following footsteps or movement in the darkness. After a few moments Kirby shrugged off the uneasy feeling and continued on his way.

  He was beginning to get jumpy he realized, the close call of the escape and the ever-present danger of searching Confederates wearing on his nerves. With one last careful look around, Kirby approached the shed door.

  He was about to give Belle his warning knock when he heard the click of a cocking revolver behind him.

  Kirby froze, silently cursing himself for not trusting his instincts more soundly. He spread his arms wide, the pail in one hand, and parcel of food in the other.

  ‘Go on ahead,’ said a man’s voice at his back.

  Kirby pushed the shed door open with his boot and went in. He heard the crunch of boots following him.

  ‘Kirby, what….’ Belle gasped as she saw the dark outline of a figure dressed in a military greatcoat and brimmed hat behind her friend. She was seated up against the wall under the window, still wrapped in the greatcoat Kirby had given her and now she drew it close as she watched the shadowy figure enter.

&n
bsp; Kirby looked over his shoulder at the silhouette in the doorway. There was no light penetrating through the shed window and it was impossible to make out the stranger’s features other than the fact he wore military uniform.

  ‘Okay, if I set these down?’ Kirby asked, jiggling the food parcel.

  The figure pushed the door shut behind him with his heel and raised the pistol, levering the hammer back down gently.

  ‘You’d better before you drop the damn thing,’ said their visitor. ‘For a pair of spies you two are in dire need of some education.’

  ‘Do I know you?’ Kirby asked, recognizing the timbre of the voice.

  ‘Why, its….’ laughed Belle in relief. ‘It’s Marshal Bell.’

  ‘Lomas Bell! Is that really you?’ asked Kirby.

  The tall figure came forward and swept off his hat, ‘At your service,’ he said and Kirby saw the gleam of his smile in the gloom.

  ‘You son-of-a-gun,’ Kirby burst, setting down the food and taking his hand. ‘What in the name of tarnation are you doing here?’

  ‘Following you around a dusty coal yard mostly.’

  ‘You with the Confederates? My God, we haven’t seen you since Variable Breaks when you took that slug in the side.’

  Lomas came forward into the room and brushed back his cape revealing the glitter of gold buttons and the filigreed decoration on his colonel’s uniform sleeve.

  ‘Well, it took me a while to get over that one,’ his gloved hand went automatically to rub at the old wound. ‘When I heard about your efforts with the President, well, that just encouraged me to join up once I was healed.’

  ‘But on the side of the South?’ Kirby asked doubtfully.

  ‘No,’ Lomas chuckled. ‘I’m the same as you fellows, working undercover here in Richmond.’

  ‘You’re a Pinkerton?’ Belle asked in a relieved rush.

  ‘Afraid not,’ said Lomas. ‘I’m working with Colonel Baker.’

  Both Belle and Kirby had heard about the rivalry between the two protagonists vying for political position in the north, Lafayette Baker and Allen Pinkerton both desired secret service positions near the President and as neither would keep the other informed, information was constantly being crossed over and sometimes caused confusion.