Five Belles to Hell

by Tony Masero

  Behind him, Lomas was surging up the corridor. ‘Ladybell! Where are you, girl? It’s your brother Lomas.’

  He was at the kitchen door when two shapes appeared blocking his path; they stood dark against the lighter night sky visible through the rear window behind them.

  ‘Hold it right there,’ growled a man’s voice.

  ‘Oh, brother dear,’ Lomas heard his sister whisper in despair.

  She was held tightly in the man’s grasp, his pistol barrel pressed against her head. The man was tall and muscular and naked to the waist, wearing only a pair of long john pants and his gun belt. The sad figure of Ladybell, held tightly against his chest by one crooked arm under her chin, was clad in a loose-hanging and open fronted dirty shift that left little to the imagination.

  ‘Don’t come any further,’ the man warned Lomas. ‘Or I let this bitch have it.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ said Lomas, seeing it was not Bliss but one of his crew he lowered his revolver. ‘Take it easy. I don’t want you, just the woman. Let her go and you walk free.’

  ‘Stand aside,’ the man said. ‘I’m coming through and taking her with me. We’ve got along real fine up until now, haven’t we, honey?’ He grinned, his bared teeth white in the gloom.

  The man made one big mistake as he stepped cautiously forward.

  He let Lomas and the others live.

  As the man edged his way along the corridor towards him, Lomas flattened himself up against the wall, his face grim and tense. Both Belle and Kirby waited until the man was level with the bedroom door, then each stepped forward.

  ‘Hi there,’ said Kirby.

  Startled the man turned towards them and Lomas leapt forward, grabbing Ladybell and pulling her to one side.

  Kirby’s shot ripped the man’s face open, taking out his left cheekbone whilst Belle placed one neat round hole in the temple just above the eye. A bursting corona of blood, bones and brains shot out and hit the wall of the corridor in a splattering spray behind him. Without a sound the man dropped straight down as if his legs had been swept away from under him.

  ‘Anyone else in the house?’ asked Kirby, looking cautiously along the corridor now filled with twisting coils of dissipating gun smoke.

  ‘That’s it,’ sobbed Ladybell, clinging to her brother. ‘That’s all of them.’

  ‘Where’s Paramount Bliss?’

  ‘He went out, up to The Angel, I think.’

  ‘Enough questions,’ Lomas said, enclosing his sister in his arm. ‘Let’s get you dressed, sis.’

  ‘Thank God you came,’ she whispered. ‘It was too much to believe I would ever get out of here.’

  ‘You’re safe now, baby girl. Don’t you worry none.’

  ‘They used me bad, Lomas. Real bad. I tried but I couldn’t get away.’

  ‘I know it,’ he said. ‘Don’t fret on that now though, we’ll talk later. These are my two friends, Belle Slaughter and Kirby Langstrom and we’re not finished here yet.’

  Ladybell looked at them both, ‘Lomas wrote of you,’ she said. ‘I’m real obliged for all you’ve done.’

  ‘Think nothing of it, ma’am,’ said Kirby.

  ‘Belle?’ Lomas asked. ‘Will you take Ladybell and find her decent clothes to wear? There’s something I want to show Kirby.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Belle and put her arm around Ladybell. ‘Come on,’ she said in a kindly fashion. ‘Let’s go see if we can improve your wardrobe.’

  ‘That front room,’ said Lomas, his hand on Kirby’s arm. ‘Come take a look.’

  Stepping over the bodies filling the hallway they entered the darkened room to find it stacked high with cases, some were long rectangular wooden crates and other bulky leather trunks.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Kirby.

  ‘I ain’t sure. Could be the cash from the robbery.’

  ‘Too many boxes for that. Let’s get some open and see what we got here.’

  Whilst Lomas fetched a lantern from the kitchen area, Kirby found an open tin box left lying in a corner with a crowbar amongst the tools and swiftly he began levering crate lids open. Lighting the lamp, Lomas held it high over the exposed innards of a crate.

  ‘What have we here? Whitworth’s, Richmond, Fayetville and Enfield rifles,’ he said, taking in the mixed collection lying racked in the crate. ‘It’s all old army weapons.’

  ‘Bunches of six pound ball grenades here,’ said Kirby, as he wrenched open another box.

  ‘Shoot! This one has sabers and pistols. Looks like a small armory we have here.’

  ‘But no money,’ Kirby said. ‘They must have shifted that on board already.’

  ‘So what’s all this for?’

  ‘My guess would be, that if this Xavier Bond fellow wants to make a new start in another country, he reckons on taking all this ex-military Confederate weaponry with him to arm his men down there in Brazil. He just ain’t got it loaded on the ship yet.’

  ‘Sounds about right,’ agreed Belle from the doorway, where she stood next to the now decently dressed Ladybell.

  ‘What next?’ Lomas asked.

  ‘Ladybell should be taken to safety. Why don’t you get her out of here, Lomas?’

  ‘What about you two?’ Lomas asked.

  ‘It’s my guess that Kirby wants to go calling and see how my girls are doing,’ Belle said with a wry nod in Kirby’s direction.

  ‘Damn right,’ agreed Kirby. ‘I got some settling up to do.’

  ‘You think I don’t?’ Lomas asked with a quick look across at his sister.

  ‘If anybody is owed payback on this scum it’s me,’ said Ladybell in a firm voice. ‘Those Yankee soldiers and that swine Sweet Dean stole my home, abused me and killed my people. They don’t deserve a rope, that would be too good for them.’ She paused looking over the array of open boxes. ‘Lomas, hand me one of those pistols. If you’re going after those beasts I’m coming along too.’

  ‘Looks like we’ve all got some dues to reckon with here,’ said Kirby.

  ‘Division of labor then,’ Belle said.

  ‘How so?’ asked Kirby.

  ‘We have Sweet Dean Pye back there with a parcel of cash he’s supposed to be bringing aboard The Phantom. Why not use him?’

  ‘Good call,’ Kirby said, looking thoughtfully at the box of grenades. ‘What say his delivery is of a more volatile nature than mere cash money?’

  Belle chuckled mischievously, ‘I like it. Let’s do it.’

  Wayland sat at a corner table and suffered the party activity around him with an air of distaste. Paramount Bliss was alongside him, leaning his huge frame back in a chair, a glass in his hand and resting his head against the wall behind. His face was creased in a fixed feral grin.

  ‘Where the hell did your boys find these beauties, cousin?’ he asked, watching the whirling dancers and laughing men fast getting seriously drunk.

  ‘Hadn’t you better be preparing to sail?’ asked Wayland dourly, ignoring his question. ‘The Grand Knight will be here soon.’

  ‘Aye,’ agreed Bliss grumpily, not wanting to leave the festivities. ‘I know it. Damn shame to break this up though. Promises to be one hell of a night. My first mate, Billy and his men will have brought the weapons aboard by now. Its just a matter of getting steam up and we can be away on the tide.’

  ‘The sooner the better,’ Wayland said sourly. ‘All this debauch does little for me.’

  Bliss gave him a critical sneer, ‘You should have been a monk, cousin. Would have suited your temperament better.’

  Wayland watched with revulsion as Little Wait leered hopefully at a chuckling Molly balanced on his knee and the tall figure of Clara danced a swirling jig with Devlin on the cleared floor of the saloon. Maggie had struck up an intense conversation with the sergeant and Kate was keeping a group of Bliss’s crew happy as she played on a concertina for the dancers.

  Cigarette and cigar smoke filled the room and the air vibrated with loud noise and the taint of spilled liquor. The locals had ben driven
away by all the exuberant wildness and only Wayland’s men and Bliss’s crew held occupancy of the saloon.

  Bliss swallowed his drink and climbed reluctantly to his feet. ‘You men of The Phantom!’ he bellowed above the noise. ‘Time to ready ship.’

  There were cries of dismay and complaint at the order and it took Bliss’s strong presence to usher the crew out.

  ‘Get along,’ he bawled, roughly pushing men from their seats and casually cuffing an ear here and there. ‘Do like your told, we sail with the morning tide.’

  Reluctantly the crew obeyed and with fond farewells to the girls they trooped out and made their way onto the quay and the waiting ship.

  ‘Off you go!’ Devlin called after them with a satisfied smirk. ‘Leave everything here in our safe hands.’ He leered at Clara ‘We’ll take a fine care of these ladies, won’t we now my little darlin’?’

  Clara smiled back at him but it was with her lips and not her eyes.

  ‘That’s it,’ agreed Little Wait, pushing Molly from his lap and getting up. ‘Let’s get down to some serious fun time now.’

  That was enough for Wayland and he too rose to leave but found himself suddenly invaded by both Maggie and Kate, who clutched at his arms and urged him not to go.

  ‘Unhand me,’ said Wayland, snatching his arms away in uncomfortable distaste.

  ‘Come now, Captain,’ jibed Dane with a slight smile, who knew only too well his captain’s aversion to the female gender. ‘Will you not stay and take your leisure with us?’

  ‘If you want to spend some time in the company of these unwholesome whores, that’s your business,’ spat Wayland. ‘But don’t include me in your filthy displays.’

  ‘Captain,’ said Devlin with a faked air of winning charm. ‘We’ve done all we must here; surely you’ll not forbid us a fond farewell to these four charmers. Will you now?’

  ‘Your minds are as diseased as these poor snatches you seek to invade,’ Wayland said haughtily. ‘Dip your wicks if you must but be ready to leave when I give the order.’

  ‘We go to lay claim on Sweet Dean Pye?’ asked Devlin.

  ‘To be sure,’ frowned Wayland. ‘We’ll be back in Columbine to take his place soon enough. First we must rout out that Lomas Bell fellow, he still lurks here somewhere about.’

  ‘He is shot on the road, surely Captain.’

  ‘I think not,’ mused Wayland, going to the window and looking across the quay to see a closed carriage drawing up on the far side over near where The Phantom’s jolly boat was moored. ‘It seems the Grand Knight has safely arrived,’ he said.

  ‘Then we have no more to do right now but enjoy ourselves,’ urged Dane in a tone that would brook no argument.

  Wayland knew he must accede to their wishes if he were to maintain command of them. Despising their licentious activity as he did, he also knew that he must bend if he wanted to keep the troop near and in his control.

  ‘Do as you will,’ he said dismissively, heading for the door.

  ‘Very well,’ cried Devlin, joyfully turning to the bartender. ‘Set them up, fellow. A round of drinks for me and my friends.’

  They were stilled to sudden silence as Belle pushed wide the saloon door and stood there.

  She struck a pose, her golden hair gleaming in the lamplight, her head tilted provocatively to one side and her delightful body framed in the doorway. Wayland froze on the spot as Belle’s magnetic blue eyes fell on him.

  ‘What have we here?’ she whispered into the silence.

  ‘My God!’ muttered Dane, impressed by the swell of her handsome bosom. ‘Will you look at that.’

  ‘Come on in, fair lady,’ gulped Devlin, recovering fast. ‘Will you join the party?’

  ‘Is that what this is?’ asked Belle. ‘I thought it might be a wake in progress.’

  ‘Well, we’re not dead yet,’ laughed Devlin, cupping his groin with his good hand. ‘And I have a sturdy bone to prove it.’

  Belle wrinkled her nose, ‘No, I think it might be a wake after all,’ she said, stepping aside so that Kirby could enter from behind her.

  Faces froze at his appearance, a hardening of features as the men saw the cold intent in Kirby’s eyes.

  ‘Who’re you?’ snapped Wayland. ‘And what’s your business here?’

  ‘We met earlier on the road, remember?’ said Kirby. ‘I was driving a wagon.’

  ‘It was you with that Marshall on the coast road?’

  ‘Me and my wife,’ growled Kirby. ‘She was carrying our child. A blessed woman who did not deserve the bullet you placed through her. It’s two deaths you men have to answer for, hers and the unborn baby. I don’t know which one of you killed her but it is sure that all of you will die here as a result.’

  ‘The hell you say,’ cried Devlin. ‘You’ve yet to pay for the damned slug you put in me, you bastard.’ Awkwardly he went one-handed for his revolver in its snapped down covered holster.

  He was taken by surprise as Clara swung her balled fist and backhanded him in the face, the blow snapping across his nose and causing him to fall back with watering eyes.

  Little Wait watched wild-eyed for a moment before bending in a crouch and sliding the long knife from the scabbard at his belt, he had no chance to use it though. Molly came up behind him and swinging back her small booted foot, kicked him hard between his spread legs.

  ‘Take that, you little weasel,’ she cried with a pleased smile as Little Wait pulled a face of crumpled dismay and folded over, his mouth open wide but making no sound as he silently clutched at his wounded parts.

  Both Maggie and Kate made for the sergeant but Dane was too quick for them, he brushed both aside, hurling them across the room and then grabbed Wayland by the collar of his uniform pushing him to the front and holding him as cover whilst he dragged his service revolver from its holster.

  ‘What are you doing?’ screamed Wayland, his skull-like eyes widening as he saw Kirby in front of him as he fast drew his gun.

  Molly was busy beating Little Wait about the back of the head with an empty whiskey bottle, whilst Clara and the two other girls recovered and set about Devlin, hanging from him like monkeys from a tree. The corporal roared in pain as they pulled at his wounded shoulder and scratched at his face.

  Belle strode over and without hesitation delivered a roundhouse sock that lifted Little Wait’s head and drove his bottom teeth right up through his upper lip. The stunned half-breed twisted away and spitting blood crouched ready to fight back.

  Dane leveled his pistol over Wayland’s shoulder, his head lowered and barely visible behind the captain.

  ‘Make your play,’ he snarled.

  Kirby was steeled for action and as the gun appeared he dived sideways, rolling to the floor and firing a shot that took Wayland just above the left knee, puncturing the limb and splintering the big bone underneath. A screech of agony rose from the captain as he wrenched himself from Dane’s grasp and fell forward. The muscles in his neck stood out like tightened cord as his mouth gaped in anguish, the whole of his skeletal face taking on a staring wild look of extreme suffering as he clutched at the bloody limb.

  The exposed Dane was off-balanced by the sudden departure of the captain and Kirby levered back the hammer and fired again, his shot catching the sergeant in the upper chest. Dane spouted blood from his mouth in a voluminous spurt as the .45 caliber lead slammed in and cat-rolled through his lungs. His pistol exploded but his hand had dropped and the shot only blew a hole in the wooden floorboards.

  Devlin meanwhile, landed a solid clout that rocked Clara’s head and spun her away, he shrugged off Maggie and Kate and shook himself as if a dog just released from a rain shower. Then with a roar he rushed towards Kirby where he still lay flat-bellied on the floor. What he hoped to do unarmed against a gun toting man is hard to ascertain but in what must have been a wave of pure rage he bounded across the room.

  Raising himself to one knees, Kirby’s lips curled in distain at the reckless charge. He fanned the
hammer and to his dismay the pistol misfired, the pin landing with a sullen thud on a dud cartridge. Swopping hands, he deftly caught the pistol in his left whilst his right reached for the wood-axe behind him. In a swirling loop he tossed the sharp-bladed axe overhead in a spinning whirl at the advancing soldier.

  ‘Sweet Jasus!’ Devlin gasped as he saw the flashing silver approach. He staggered a few steps crying out in pain as the four pound axe head struck him, one edge burying itself in his already wounded shoulder. Clutching at his limp arm where blood ran in strings from his fingertips, his face a picture of wild anger and pain he lumbered desperately on.

  ‘I’ll kill you,’ he managed to utter before Kirby, taking a chance and spinning the chamber in hope of a fresh bullet, straight-armed the leveled revolver and this time it fired, and he delivered a final shot that blew Devlin’s temple away and spun his head sideways before dropping him.

  Belle was not about to mess with the crouching Little Wait as he circled both her and Molly, his regained knife held out and ready. Spite and enmity were in his blood stained face and he spat vile curses at the women. The Beaumont-Adams was in Belle’s hand and, almost casually, with her blue eyes turning a merciless deadpan shade of gray she shot the half-breed. Not once but five times, emptying the entire cylinder into his squirming body.

  They all stood silently for a moment in the smoke wreathed room, the only sound coming from a whimpering Captain Wayland. Calmly, Kirby began to reload his pistol, tossing the empty casings and dud cartridge aside. He looked up at the barman who had just poked his head above the bar from where he had been hiding during the shootout.

  ‘You want any of this?’ A tight-lipped Kirby asked him.

  The bar man shook his head emphatically.

  ‘Then get the hell out of here,’ ordered Kirby.

  ‘Well done, ladies,’ praised Belle, with a grateful nod at them all as the bartender hurried out.

  ‘I think I lost a tooth,’ complained Clara, rubbing her swelling jaw.

  ‘We’ll get you a gold one as replacement,’ promised Belle.