Lamb to the Slaughter

by Tony Masero

  ‘You never held an ounce of honor in the first place, Courtney,’ Belle answered in a low voice.

  ‘As you well know, dear, my family is of the best in the South, why else would you attach yourself to me?’

  ‘Well it certainly wasn’t for your winning ways,’ spat Belle.

  Joe’s eyes were fixed on Belle’s heaving bosom where the tension had raised her nipples under the thin cotton and he licked his lips in anticipation. ‘Colonel, seeing as you have no use for her now, you mind if me and Obie take a turn or two with your ex?’ he asked without turning away from her.

  ‘Why not,’ said Monette, dismissively as he swigged from his flask. ‘Help yourself to the tart, much good may it do you as she’s probably disease ridden anyway.’

  ‘You would watch this?’ spat Belle. ‘What manner of man are you?’

  ‘One who doesn’t give a fig for you, my dear.’

  Joe lunged forward and caught the front of the cotton shift in both hands; he wrenched the fragile material apart and tore its length easily under his strong grip. With a rip, Joe pulled the material away revealing Belle’s nakedness underneath.

  Even in the moment of his rampant lust Joe was stilled for a moment by the excellence of her form as it gleamed in the light from the lamp.

  ‘Oh my sweet Lord,’ he whispered breathlessly.

  ‘Me first,’ growled Obie. ‘I want a taste of this.’ He was holding Belle from behind and turned her around brutally to bend her back over the edge of the base of the bed.

  ‘Get off!’ complained Joe, pulling at Obie’s arm. ‘I waited a long time for this. You wait your turn.’

  ‘Shut up,’ growled Obie, pushing him away as his eyes ran greedily up and down Belle’s arched figure. ‘This one’s for me.’

  Belle rested her hands on the bedstead behind, her mind racing as Obie’s large hands played freely over her breasts. She could smell his fevered breath and feel the heat of excitement emitting from his body. The testosterone levels had risen visibly in the enclosed atmosphere of the room and whilst Joe and Obie leered, Monette watched with a kind ensnared fascination.

  ‘Well, boys,’ she said with a sudden smile, changing tack as she played for time. ‘Can’t you make up your mind? I’m sure we can sort something out.’

  There was a pistol kept under her pillow and Belle knew if she could make her way up onto the bed she would get to the weapon.

  Joe rubbed his unshaven chin and the rasping sound filled the tense silence in the room. ‘You want it now, do you, honey?’ he said. ‘You willing to give it up freely, are you?’

  ‘Why not?’ asked Belle in a low seductive whisper. She parted her lips and licked them in the same girlish way she had done since childhood, ‘You both look like strong sturdy fellows who should be able to pleasure a gal real fine.’

  ‘What a disgusting common whore you are,’ spat Monette, gnawing nervously at his lower lip, both repelled and also drawn by Belle’s apparent display of immorality.

  ‘She sure played you for a fool though didn’t she?’ chuckled Joe.

  ‘Do it to her,’ snarled Monette. ‘Why should I care? Go ahead, ream the bitch. Just leave enough for me to take back for trial.’

  ‘Mind if I get up on the bed, boys?’ interrupted Belle, ignoring him. ‘Make it more confortable. Here let me get these rags off.’ Belle stood away from the bed and let the remains of the shift slide away from her. She posed naked for a moment, one knee tilted before the other, hands hanging free by her side. Holding herself as an offering waiting to be taken.

  Obie was fumbling at his trouser buttons unable to wait, his breathing becoming heavy and labored. ‘Get up there,’ he croaked. ‘My God! I can’t wait to climb aboard.’

  Slowly Belle raised herself onto the bed and languidly laid herself out across dresses lying there, shuffling and spreading herself to give them the best view of her splendor. She knew how to play them and was pleased that a simple show of her naked body could encourage this turbulence in the minds of these men. ‘Come on now,’ she whispered. ‘Lets see who can make the best of it. I’m more than ready.’

  As she said it her hand casually slid above her head and under the pillow until it felt the hard butt of the pistol kept there.

  ‘You are one whoring piece of baggage alright,’ said Obie, dropping his pants and climbing up onto the bed. ‘Talk dirty to me, I like it when they talk dirty.’ He held his long erect member in his hand and he loomed, kneeling over Belle. ‘Open them up, baby,’ he muttered. ‘I’m going to give you the best damned ride of your life.’

  ‘Maybe it’ll be your last one,’ muttered Belle, and as Obie took his eyes from her and looked down to find position she slid the gun out and cocked it all in one motion just as Kirby had taught her.

  Obie had only a moment to glimpse the weapon stuffed into his belly before Belle pulled the trigger and he was catapulted over the end of the bed by the blast. With a strangled squeal Obie lay in a fetal position squirming on the floor and clutching at his holed guts.

  Joe stared in consternation at him before seeing Belle turn to face him; she raised herself on one elbow and pointed the smoking gun at him.

  ‘No, Belle, no!’ he pleaded.

  ‘Joe Bellows, you are one worthless piece of offal,’ spat Belle.

  The gunshot boom was loud in the room and Joe took the slug in the neck below the jaw, he gagged and clutched at his throat, staggering in a stunned circle. Belle fired again the crash and flash of expelled gases reaching across the room and blasting the slug through Joe’s forehead and cascading his brains all over Monette standing in shock behind him.

  As Joe fell, Monette screamed, dropped his flask and made for the door in a panicked run.

  He collided with Lomas coming in, a pistol ready in his hand.

  ‘Stand aside, Lomas!’ howled Belle.

  Wide-eyed and covered in blood spatters, Monette faced Belle, ‘You can’t,’ he begged. ‘You won’t.’

  Belle shot him three times, each slug spiraling clean through his body and cascading holed plaster from the wall behind. Monette was slammed back, bouncing off the wall and sent crashing into the dressing table, upsetting perfume bottles and smashing the mirror.

  Lomas stood in the doorway and watched in amazement as the naked Belle, rolled off the bed and pistol in hand moved around to stand over the still squealing Obie. Coldly and calmly, she pointed the pistol at his head.

  ‘Belle….’ Muttered Lomas, then Belle pulled the trigger and a single shot rang out. The gun was empty and there was only silence and smoke in the room.

  Belle drew a deep breath and stood up straight, tossing the empty gun onto the bed.

  ‘Bastards were going to rape me,’ she explained to Lomas.

  ‘Hell,’ breathed Lomas. ‘They sure paid for that thought.’

  With a dismissive sniff Belle took up a gown and threw it around her nakedness, ‘What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were supposed to attend one of those Circle meetings.’

  Lomas was watching Belle closely and he noted that despite her apparent coolness her fingers were trembling as she fastened the gown.

  ‘They called it off, apparently the boss man had a more pressing prior engagement.’

  ‘That would be me then,’ Belle added, tugging at her disarrayed curls. ‘We have a dinner engagement.’

  Lomas re-holstered his gun and rubbed his jaw as he looked over the wrecked room littered with blood and bodies.

  ‘I think we have a change of plan, Belle. We can’t stick around here after this, we have to get out now.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Belle coldly. ‘We still have a job to finish.’

  Lomas was quietly surprised by her attitude and he recognized that Belle had entered into another stage in her development. To see her kill in such a cold blooded manner worried Lomas and it disturbed him that such a beautiful creature should develop the hand of an assassin in so easy a manner.

  ‘This ain’t you, Belle,
’ he said quietly, with a nod at the dead men.

  ‘Why not?’ she said, calmly stroking her hair into place. ‘Because I’m a woman? You think I’m not just as capable as a man of seeing something through to the finish? I’ll bet you wouldn’t say such a thing to Kirby if he were here.’

  ‘It don’t become you, girl.’

  ‘It does now, Lomas. We’re at war and these men are the enemy. There’s no difference between what I do here and soldiers at the front do. We all fight and die for our cause.’

  ‘The Union troops are withdrawing, Belle. They ain’t going to take Richmond, McClellan’s been beaten. This city will be crawling with Confederate troops soon, all of them coming back from the battle line. We have to get out now to fight again another day.’

  ‘What about Lamb? I could finish it with him tonight.’

  ‘It’s too risky.’

  ‘Why? I’ll get him away somewhere on his own, he won’t be able to resist. If we kill him it’ll be a major blow to the Knights of the Circle and their bounty jumping scheme.’

  ‘If we kill him we won’t find out who’s behind it on the Union side.’

  Belle’s blue eyes flashed in the lamplight, magically taking on a deep aquamarine glow. ‘Maybe that is something we can leave to another day.’

  ‘You’re going to insist on this, aren’t you?’ Lomas could see her resolution and feared that she might go ahead either with or without him.

  She nodded picking up her curling tongs from the floor where they had fallen. ‘I am,’ she said firmly.

  ‘Then lets work it out properly. We need a plan. I think it’s a crazy risk but if you insist, the least we can do is be prepared with a proper escape route in readiness.’

  ‘You work it out, Lomas, that’s what you’re good at. I have to get ready.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kirby stood on the cliff top inside a tiny enclosure of five deserted wood-frame cottages and looked out over the broad span of the river. In the distance the far line of hills on the opposite shore of the York River showed as a thin azure line. The rain had let up now and visibility was good. Two frigates were evident on the water, each of them flying the Union flag from their mastheads and making their way upstream towards the open sea.

  He waved his hands desperately above his head but realized that the ships were too far distant to notice him. In a blundering run he made his way down the rocky cliffs towards the shoreline.

  The overgrown gardens of the fishermen’s cottages above proved they had been left to go wild by the fleeing residents but in their flight the families could not carry their boats with them and at the end of a small jetty, Kirby found a solid looking rowboat moored.

  Unfastening the craft, he leapt in. There was only one oar in the boat and he used it to stand athwart the vessel and skull the small boat out into the deeper waters of the river. The ships were less than half a mile out and Kirby strove tirelessly to push the vessel to meet them as they came towards him across the broad waters.

  Captain Laver aboard the steam frigate, USS Brilliant was enjoying a midday meal in his cabin with his passenger Allen Pinkerton, Head of the Secret Service, who was bound for Washington having seen that there was now no longer any purpose in him staying with McClellan’s retreating command.

  ‘So we are suffering ill at the hands of the Rebs?’ asked Laver, a serious faced man, bucolic and rather ill tempered and not adverse to a few glasses of Madeira wine with his lunch.

  ‘Not a rout as such,’ said Pinkerton. ‘I believe the Rebels have suffered greater casualties than us. The Army of the Potomac is still intact.’

  ‘No thanks to McClellan,’ observed Laver, his cheeks flushing with the effects of the wine.

  ‘A cautious man,’ said Pinkerton tactfully. ‘But I think its fair to say he has at least saved the army.’

  ‘Should have struck hard and fast, I believe,’ Laver said forcefully. ‘Needed some bold action rather than dilly-dallying around waiting for good weather and more reinforcements.’

  Pinkerton cocked his head in silent agreement.

  ‘Here, Mister Pinkerton, another glass? This Madeira is very fine. I had it off my cousin who sailed with the Cumberland until those dogs in the iron ship sunk him.’

  ‘Your cousin was lost?’

  ‘He was,’ said Laver bitterly. ‘An iron clad ship against wood and sail, I ask you? These Rebels have no honor.’

  ‘Well, we do have one ironclad ourselves, you’ll note. The Monitor made a good show of it.’

  ‘What else? We must fight fire with fire, we are forced into such underhand combat by these rebel dogs. God! I curse each and every one of them.’

  Pinkerton was only a little surprised by the Captain’s bellicose attitude as he was by now becoming immune to the attitudes prevalent as the war began to take heavy casualties of kin in the same household, often fighting for different sides in the conflict. It was to be a divisive war, he realized. A war of belief and commitment to principle and, as such it broke family’s apart and made foes of close relatives.

  Their meal was interrupted by a knock on the door of the cabin.

  ‘Come!’ ordered Laver.

  ‘Sir,’ said a Marine sergeant, entering with a salute. ‘We have sight of a Confederate soldier approaching in a small boat.’

  ‘He is alone?’

  ‘Yes sir.’

  ‘What the devil is he up to? A runaway, you think?’

  ‘No idea, sir. He is waving and such.’

  ‘Probably in anticipation of a nice cozy imprisonment to avoid the fray, the cowardly dog. Well,’ shrugged Laver. ‘You have marksmen, don’t you?’

  The sergeant nodded, ‘Two fine shots, sir. The very best.’

  ‘Then, there is your answer, sergeant. The enemy is in sight, go shoot the bugger.’

  ‘Aye, sir,’ grinned the sergeant, pleased with the prospect of action.

  When the Marine had left, Laver shook his head and poured himself another glass.

  Pinkerton cleared his throat, ‘Er, you don’t think that maybe the man might have some information worth having, Captain Laver?’

  ‘My dear Pinkerton, I’ve seen enough of these paltry deserters in my time. Why, if he was a Navy man, I would have him flogged on a grating for all to see before I strung him up. Example is everything, sir. Can’t have the lower ranks thinking they can get away with this sort of thing.’

  Shots rang out from the deck above and Pinkerton pushed back his chair, ‘Do you mind, Captain?’ he excused himself. ‘I think I might go and take a look.’

  ‘By all means, Pinkerton. I’ll come with you, be good to see how fine a shot these Marines of mine are.’

  As they climbed the gangway to the deck more shots rang out followed by a series of cheers from the deck hands.

  ‘Sounds like we have a hit,’ grinned Laver as they crossed to the ship’s side.

  ‘Stand back,’ cried an officer, coming to attention. ‘Captain on deck.’

  The men fell away from the gunwales as both Pinkerton and Laver leaned over and looked at the rowboat drifting below.

  Pinkerton’s jaw dropped as he made out the bloody body lying spread across the seating in a sprawled heap.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ he cried, recognizing the still figure below. ‘It’s Kirby Langstrom. Captain, you have killed one of my agents.’

  Pinkerton followed the passage of the rowboat as it slipped into their wake, he ran alongside to keep abreast of it as it drifted away.

  ‘We must stop, Captain Laver. Send out a jolly boat to fetch him in.’

  Laver looked at him wryly for a moment and then at the small boat bobbing away behind them. ‘No point, Pinkerton. The man’s dead, I’m afraid my lads have made a good job of it. Unfortunate he was one of yours but then if they will dress up like the enemy, what can you expect?’

  ‘Sir, you must stop and turn about,’ Pinkerton pleaded. ‘He was one of my best.’

  ‘Afraid not, Pinkerton. We have orders to make
all haste, to pull about now, would lose us an hour let alone the fear of sandbanks and shallow waters just here in the channel. It cannot be, I’m afraid you must say a last farewell to your man. It is one of exigencies of war. These things happen.’

  Pinkerton bunched his fist on the ship’s rail and compressed his lips bitterly as he watched the small boat drift further away until it was only a distant dot, barely discernible on the wide waters of the river.

  ‘It’s a waste,’ he muttered. ‘A damned stupid waste.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lomas leaned forward in the carriage and pressed something into Belle’s hand.

  ‘What’s this?’ she asked.

  ‘A derringer, two-shot. It’s small enough to go in your reticule. Take it, Belle, just in case.’

  Belle nodded and slid the pearl handled weapon into her bag. She smiled up at the worried face of Lomas, his feature lit by flicking streetlights as Lamb’s carriage took them to the hotel where they were to dine.

  ‘I shan’t come in with you,’ said Lomas. ‘But I’ll be nearby.’

  ‘Don’t worry so,’ said Belle. ‘I will charm what information I can from him, then we can leave Richmond.’

  ‘I don’t like it,’ said Lomas, staring at her from the shadows. ‘Not one bit, Belle. I have an uneasy feeling, we should go now not later.’

  Belle leaned forward and patted his hand, ‘One last throw then we’ll be gone. It’s too good an opportunity to miss. Is there still no word from Kirby?’

  Lomas shook his head, ‘No, nothing yet.’

  ‘I sure hope he’s alright.’

  ‘You starting to worry about the boy now?’ chuckled Lomas.

  Belle sat back and rearranged her dress in an undisguised distracted moment. ‘I miss not having him around, I guess. Kind of gotten used to the rough old thing being nearby.’

  ‘Why, Belle,’ said Lomas in mock surprise. ‘That’s tantamount to a confession of affection coming from you.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Belle answered, her voice taking a harder edge. ‘We can’t afford anything like that just now.’