Five Belles to Hell

by Tony Masero

  ‘You could always hustle a bit free from that delivery we had last night,’ Billy suggested.

  ‘Shut up about that, you fool,’ snarled Bliss. ‘I told you, nothing is to be said. You want your head on a plate? You keep flapping your gums like that and it’ll happen. Now, find me a few bits for these damned women, then I have to go see my cuz Edward up at The Angel. There’s things we have to arrange.’

  ‘You want me to come?’

  ‘No I don’t, you got to stay here and watch over the parcel. Know what I mean?’

  Maggie tried to make out the figure in back more clearly but Bliss came out of a room and blocked her view.

  ‘What you doing up here?’ barked Bliss. ‘I never said you could come in my house.’

  ‘The water,’ explained Maggie, with a simpering smile.

  ‘Get down here with that blasted water, you dumb critter,’ Bliss called over his shoulder to the figure out back. ‘Now, here,’ he said, throwing a few coins into Maggie’s bucket. ‘Take this and get along.’

  ‘Thank you so much,’ oozed Maggie. ‘You are indeed most generous. Our thanks too from the pastor and all the committee ladies.’

  He turned away and brushed past the woman hurrying towards them down the corridor, a tin mug of water in her hand.

  Maggie had stepped back down to street level and the woman had to come out onto the steps to hand them the mug. She looked a bowed wreck. Her clothes were filthy and torn and her hair wild and unkempt. There were bruises on her face and what looked like burns on the backs of the hand holding the mug.

  ‘Here,’ she husked offering it forward, a sad smile playing on her lips.

  ‘Thank you, sister,’ Maggie said loudly as Kate moved forward to accept the drink. ‘Are you one of our congregation?’

  The woman shook her head and said nothing.

  ‘Is your name Ladybell?’ Maggie asked in a hushed voice whilst giving a quick cautious glance up to the empty doorway.

  The woman brought her head up sharply, her gray eyes fixing on Maggie sharply.

  ‘It is,’ she said.

  ‘Ladybell Rolfe?’

  The woman nodded ferociously.

  ‘How many in the house?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘Two just now but more are coming later,’ Ladybell answered. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘What’s going on out here?’ bellowed Bliss, coming to the door and looking at them with a suspicious frown. ‘Get back inside, woman.’

  ‘Thank you again,’ called Maggie as Kate offered back drained the mug. ‘You must try and attend us come Sunday, Mister Bliss. Are you a church going man?’

  ‘Hardly,’ came the laughing reply from inside the house.

  ‘Shut your mouth, Billy,’ growled Bliss. ‘No I ain’t, now get along and leave me be. And you,’ he said to Ladybell. ‘Get back in that kitchen right now.’

  ‘We’re coming for you. Be ready,’ whispered Kate as she passed the mug over.

  Ladybell lowered her eyelids in a tired gesture of thanks.

  At the same time, Clara and Molly walked idly through the port’s narrow alleyways, stopping and looking in the few shop windows along the way. They were nearing the quay and identified their destination by the sign hanging outside the drinking house.

  ‘You see it?’ Clara asked.

  ‘And the bluecoats,’ Molly answered, noticing the two soldiers lounging outside in the sunshine.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Clara, studying the two men, who sat on chairs they had pulled outside and were supping on schooners of beer as they leaned back in the sunlight.

  ‘Let’s just stroll on past and see if we can win their attention,’ grinned Molly.

  ‘Now you behave yourself,’ warned Clara with an admonishing frown.

  Molly just smiled sweetly in reply.

  ‘Damn my eyes,’ cursed Pat Devlin as he noticed the two women. ‘Will you look at that?’

  His shoulder was padded with bandages where Kirby’s bullet had struck him but he had been lucky and the wound was no more than superficial.

  ‘I see ‘em,’ Little Wait answered, his leering eyes glowing as he took in Molly’s fair skin and blond hair.

  ‘D’you think they’ll be putting out? I never seen any like that around here.’

  ‘Maybe,’ agreed Little Wait.

  ‘Ladies!’ called Devlin, getting to his feet and doffing his forage cap. ‘Will you be in need of any assistance?’

  Both Clara and Molly started as if taken by surprise. ‘Why, I don’t think so,’ said Clara with a frown. ‘We are just promenading away the afternoon.’

  ‘Will you be walking the quay there?’ Devlin asked.

  ‘That we shall,’ answered Molly with a coy grin.

  ‘Me and my friend here would surely like to accompany you fair ladies on such a splendid day,’ Devlin offered with a winning smile.

  ‘Well, I don’t know about that, although I see you are a wounded veteran,’ simpered Molly. ‘It’s very forward of you, we haven’t even been introduced.’

  ‘I,’ said Devlin, clutching his cap to his breast, clicking his heels and tilting his head in a slight bow. ‘Am Corporal Patrick Aloysius Devlin and this fellow here is my comrade, Trooper Little Wait. Both late of the 7th Regiment of Kansas Volunteer Cavalry.’

  ‘What a fine pair you are,’ Clara said airily, although whether that was in criticism or approval Devlin could not make out.

  ‘I like that,’ said Molly with a sly grin. ‘ ‘Little Wait’, how did you get a name like that, I wonder?’

  ‘He’s kind of impetuous,’ Devlin supplied.

  ‘Quick on the draw, are we?’ Molly asked, eyeing the half-breed with a speculative glance.

  ‘I can hold off long enough when the occasion warrants,’ Little Wait answered, his eyelids lidding with a lustful gaze.

  ‘Come on then,’ Clara said decisively. ‘Least we can do is keep company with two brave soldier boys one of whom bears the red badge of courage,’

  The two men needed no further invitation and hurriedly left their beers and clattered over quickly to join the women. Molly took hold of Little Wait’s arm possessively, ‘I like the look of you. You’re a keen little fellow, ain’t you?’ she said.

  ‘As mustard,’ Little Wait leered confidently as Devlin took up station alongside the statuesque Clara.

  ‘And your name might be?’ Devlin asked her.

  ‘You may call me Miss Clara,’ she answered. ‘You fellows up here on duty?’

  ‘Kind of,’ Devlin answered. ‘A mission of sorts,’ he admitted as they strolled away from the saloon and onto the quay.

  ‘Just the two of you on your lonesome?’ Clara asked.

  ‘Not quite. We have our Captain and Sergeant along for the ride.’

  ‘Well, you cut a fine dash in your uniform, Corporal. I was always a one for the boys in blue,’ Clara said with a thin smile. ‘You took your wound in battle?’

  ‘I care not to think on it,’ Devlin offered with a vagueness that pretended to speak of untold heroism.

  ‘So admirable,’ Clara said, her eyelids flicking demurely.

  ‘Are you now? You’ll not be one of those Southern gals then?’

  ‘Oh, no. Molly and I are strictly Unionist, we’re down from Washington on a little vacation to catch some sea breezes.’

  ‘That’s nice to hear, will you take my good arm, Miss Clara?’

  Clara obliged and slid her arm through his. ‘You are staying at the tavern there?’ she asked.

  ‘We are,’ Devlin admitted. He chewed his lips a moment before going on, ‘Now tell me, Miss Clara. What would two fine looking young ladies like you be doing out here alone and unchaperoned?’

  ‘Just taking the air, that’s all, Patrick.’

  ‘Would you be looking for a little adventure to pass the time? I think you might be,’ he added slyly.

  ‘You never know,’ said Clara.

  They had strolled to the start of the curving wall that encompassed t
he small harbor and it was cluttered with fishermen busy with their nets and boats. The grizzled fishermen barely looked up at the colorful foursome who seemed so out of place in the busy scene that was rank with the smell of fish scales and tarred rope.

  Little Wait continued to admire Molly with eyes that seemed to pass right through her garments and greedily encompass her body from top to toe.

  ‘You sure are one hot property,’ he mumbled lasciviously.

  ‘And you want to come visit my little abode, is that it?’ Molly teased.

  ‘Sure would like to hang my hat for a spell.’

  ‘Oooh!’ cooed Molly. ‘I do so love a forward man.’

  ‘Look here, boys,’ Clara interrupted the foreplay. ‘We have to get back now but how about we meet up later for a little visit? We have some lady friends staying with us that might enjoy your company also.’

  ‘Oh, really,’ Devlin smiled. ‘Some friends you say. Are they all as pretty as you?’

  ‘They’ll make willing company,’ Clara added invitingly.

  ‘What about back there at The Angel come sundown, you can break bread with us.’

  ‘Surely, that sounds most accommodating. Nothing a girl likes more on her holidays is a little time spent with diverting gentlemen.’

  ‘Oh, we’ll be real diverting. I can assure you of that, darlin’.’

  Sweet Dean smiled greasily as he reached over to take another winning pot. Laying down a jack-high diamond flush with one hand whilst the other grasped for the cash.

  They were sitting in a window corner of the private room, a round side-table between them where they played for small coins.

  ‘You most fortunate,’ observed Lulu. ‘Hotei, Chinese god of luck is with you.’

  ‘There is no luck involved here, my dear. It is all skill.’

  Sweet Dean was smug with contentment. He was pulling one over on his captor and it gave him great pleasure to think that he still held a real capacity for control. It was too engrained in his nature to do other than win whether by fair means or foul and his plan was to induce a sense of annoyance in the tiny woman and whilst she was distracted to overpower her and make his escape.

  ‘I not so sure,’ Lulu said, allowing one of her fingers to run slowly along the edge of a playing card.

  Sweet Dean was raking in his cash but he noticed as he did so that Lulu’s short fingers were blunt at the tips, so abbreviated in fact that all of them appeared to be almost equal in length. He considered they were not particularly elegant like those of her more manicured companions. It caused him a momentary pause that such a slight creature could carry hands more like a man’s than a woman’s. He supposed she had come from some agricultural or crude peasant background.

  ‘I think you make mark on card,’ said Lulu, her eyes glittering like the cold black beads of a snake or lizard as her finger played the card edge.

  ‘The hell you say,’ huffed Sweet Dean. ‘You’re just a bad loser is all. Can’t help it if you ain’t up to the game, Miss Chinee. You know what they say, you find it too hot in the kitchen then best you get out.’

  ‘No, you make little mark with thumbnail. I feel it.’

  ‘Damn nonsense,’ Sweet Dean said off-handedly as he tossed his hand into the pile.

  ‘I think so. One mark for ace, two for picture. I feel, I see.’

  ‘Rubbish!’

  It happened so fast that he never even saw it.

  All that Sweet Dean knew was that there was a crack like the sound of a carrot snapping and a sudden and severe sheet of pain that ran up his left arm and frazzled his brain.

  He screamed and jumped back in his seat, staring wide–eyed at Lulu as he clutched his wounded hand. The broken pinky on his left mitt was already swelling up.

  ‘What you do?’ he bawled. ‘You broke my damned finger.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lulu sitting calm and still. ‘Fat man underestimate small Chinese woman. Make big mistake.’

  ‘Goddamn you, you little yellow bitch!’ cried Sweet Dean.

  ‘Be quiet please. Make more noise I must make same with other finger.’

  ‘How’d you do that?’ asked Sweet Dean, his red face sweaty as he studied his cradled hand. ‘I never saw you make a move.’

  ‘Your eye is full of greed, fat man. You see only with one eye.’

  ‘It’s broke. Hell and damnation, it hurts.’

  Lulu sat as still as stone and placidly watched him, her silence unnerving as Sweet Dean groaned and moaned and complained over his busted finger.

  ‘You will understand now, I think,’ she said eventually. ‘Do not take small Chinese woman for fool. You want play some more card?’

  They were interrupted as their companions returned and bustled back into the room bringing with them the ozone scent of fresh air and salt spray.

  ‘What’s been going on?’ Belle asked as she saw Sweet Dean writhing painfully on his seat.

  ‘Fat man put finger where he shouldn’t,’ Lulu supplied.

  Kirby snorted a laugh, ‘Bit off more than you could chew did you, Sweet Dean?’

  ‘Woman’s a menace,’ spat Sweet Dean. ‘Broke my hand without no call.’

  ‘No call there but make bad bid,’ Lulu said.

  ‘You’re lucky she didn’t bust your neck,’ observed Clara. ‘Lulu gets real serious over her gambling, you should never cross her when she’s playing cards.’

  ‘Somebody bind his hand up,’ said Belle. ‘We’ve got to figure out how to handle other things.’

  ‘We’ve got an invite to meet up at that saloon,’ said Molly. ‘We can keep most of them busy whilst you get Lomas’ sister free.’

  ‘How is it at the house?’ asked Lomas.

  Maggie explained the score as Kate tore some of the ribbon hem from her shift and tied off Sweet Dean’s hand, lashing the pinky to the ring finger next to it.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said quietly to Sweet Dean. ‘I was a nurse once, only the pay wasn’t so good as the bed-work I do now.’

  ‘Thank God she’s alive,’ breathed Lomas as Maggie finished her report.

  ‘Then that’s first on the list,’ Belle said. ‘Come dark you girls can go play with the soldier boys whilst we take care of Bliss and bring out Ladybell.’

  ‘You plan on coming in on this?’ Kirby asked.

  ‘I do,’ said Belle.

  ‘You think you’re up to it?’

  ‘Kirby, since you’ve been off the planet I’ve been busy the past few years. Don’t you worry I can handle it.’

  ‘It’s alright,’ Lomas said decisively. ‘Belle’s with us.’

  ‘Okay,’ shrugged Kirby. ‘Just asking.’

  ‘Lulu, can you keep an eye on him?’ Belle asked, nodding in Sweet Dean’s direction.

  ‘Oh, sure,’ Lulu answered. ‘Him and me get on fine. No problem. We play card some more. Yes?’

  Chapter Fifteen

  The three of them stood in the darkened street outside the Bliss house, with Lomas fronting the other two. He leaned up and knocked on the door then stepped back to join the others. There was no answer and the house appeared dark and empty.

  Light only came into the small plaza from an oil lamp hung high on a pole and by its light Kirby looked questioningly at the others.

  ‘Give it another go,’ he recommended.

  Again, Lomas climbed up the steep entrance steps and this time pounded on the door long and hard. He stepped back down again and as he did so the door was ripped open and Bliss’s first mate Billy stood there. One hand was clamped threateningly on the butt of a Colt revolver sticking from his waistband as he glowered at the three standing below.

  ‘This better be good,’ he bawled. ‘What is it?’

  ‘We’ve come for Ladybell,’ Lomas said.

  His eyes went wide as Belle reached long-arm over his shoulder and without further ado fired off her short-barreled Beaumont-Adams revolver at the figure in the doorway. The retort was loud in the enclosed area and Lomas jerked his head away with a frown i
n Belle’s direction at the gun blast so close to his head.

  Billy took the slug in the throat and fell over choking, he dropped backwards into the darkness and they could hear his gurgling death-sounds in the shadows.

  Lomas and Kirby were up the steps quickly and with Lomas leading they pushed into the narrow hallway.

  ‘Damn it, Belle,’ Kirby growled. ‘You might have waited a minute.’

  ‘What for?’ Belle answered, her attention fixed on the gloomy hallway. ‘That bastard wasn’t going to give way, you can bet on it.’

  Kirby realized in a flash that Belle had certainly changed over the intervening years and he wondered momentarily at the events that had turned her into this decisive and aggressive creature and not the more retrospect girl he remembered.

  As he moved down the corridor a sleepy figure holding a rifle stumbled out of the room to Lomas’ left and the lawman jerked his pistol up, burying it under the man’s chin and loosing off a shot that lifted the lid off the fellow’s head. Lomas pushed the body aside and lunged into the room, gun at the ready.

  Kirby and Belle stepped over the crumpled Billy spread across the hallway floor and pressed on to the next door along the hall.

  Kirby tried the handle and swung the door wide, he dropped to one knee and Belle leaned over him both of them pointing their weapons around the doorjamb.

  Two men were inside standing beside two cots with rumpled sheets; each of them was scrabbling to get his gun belt on. Belle and Kirby could see their hurrying figures by the light of an oil lamp set on a low table in the scruffy bedroom.

  ‘Hot damn, Billy,’ one called over his shoulder. ‘What’s going on out there?’

  ‘Nothing you want to see,’ said Kirby.

  The two went for their side arms at sound of the strange voice and as they swung around both Belle and Kirby fired in unison. The double blast rocked the two men and they swung around instantly shot through and killed, they tumbled over in a heap and upset the table as they went. The lamp smashed on the floor, instantly igniting its reserve of oil and a blossom of flame sprung up that ran as high as the ceiling in a sudden explosive burst.

  ‘Oh shoot!’ cursed Kirby, leaping into the room and grasping a blanket from one of the cots. Quickly he threw it over the fire, cutting off the air and dousing the flames. Belle leaned over the two men making sure they would offer no more resistance.