Mississippi Raider (8 page)

For her part, relieved by the
good news about the elderly Negress who was now the closest person
to her in the world, the girl had been taken to the Thatcher
family
’s
mansion and instructed by its owner and his wife, Margaret, to
consider it her home for as long as she wished to remain. Although
grateful for the kindness and hospitality she received, she had not
allowed herself to be swayed from her determination to seek revenge
against the two men she held most responsible for everything that
happened to Baton Roy ale Manor, and especially the murder of her
parents. What was more, every member of the foxhunting expedition
in which she and her father had engaged offered his services in any
way they might be needed. They had stated that they would be
willing to forgo joining the regiments to which they were already
assigned until having helped her achieve her vengeance regardless
of whether or not they were given official sanction to do so, but
she had refused to let them chance ruining their careers by taking
such a course in her behalf.

Supplied with names of the other
participants—and in some cases the most likely places to look—by
the three captives taken during the fighting at the mansion—without
inquiring too closely into how the information was obtained even
though it was all too apparent that this had not been supplied on a
voluntary basis—the sheriff of Baton Rouge Parish was doing
everything he could to bring the rest of the mob to justice.
Several were caught and stood trial for their participation, while
others were killed resisting arrest. However, the two who mattered
most to Belle had succeeded in making good their escape. What was
more, by having fled to the North according to all he learned, they
were considered by the peace officer as being beyond his or any
other Southern jurisdiction.

Consumed by her bitter hatred
of the pair she had seen kill her mother and father though she was,
but refusing to let it cloud her judgment to a point where she
could not think properly about the enormity of the task she was
setting herself, the
girl had had most useful allies in her quest.
Under the orders of Mattie and Tobias Jonias, both of whom wielded
considerable power over them—the former having acquired a
reputation for being a “conjure woman” of considerable potency—the
colored people from the plantation and surrounding area had given
assistance that provided information she could not have obtained
through any other source. It was from them that Belle learned the
only names by which she would ever know the two Yankee
“unfortunates,” as Auntie Mattie had referred to Alfred Tollinger
and George Barmain. However, even the Negroes could not discover
exactly where the pair had gone once fleeing from the mansion. That
had not lessened Belle’s resolve to find and, if justice could not
be achieved in any other way, kill them herself.

The girl did not delude herself
by thinking that the task to which she was committed would be
simple or easy to bring to the required conclusion. Therefore,
after having had Reverend Keith perform the funeral rights at the
ruins of her home on the morning after the attack, she had begun to
think over the means by which her purpose might be achieved.
Typical of the way she had been raised to think, her first priority
had been to take care of the welfare of the
family
’s
loyal and devoted workforce.

Unlike what a later generation
would try to insist was the only way all Negroes thought about
their owners, every one of them had been distressed by what had
happened and eager to see the murders of their master and mistress
avenged. They also asked no more than they be allowed to remain in
their comfortable homes and help with the rebuilding of the manor
by continuing to carry out whatever their work might be. Being
determined to do all she could for them, Belle had given the
instructions to her family
’s attorney that resulted in the meeting now
taking place at his office.

“
Then
Baton Royale can continue to be run?” Belle inquired.

“
Of
course,” O’Connel confirmed. “Of course, you will have to take a
man beyond the age for military service to act as your supervisor,
as I don’t doubt war will break out against the Yankees any day
now, if it hasn’t started already.”

“
I’m
going to ask Uncle Dennis to do so in my absence,” the girl
declared, having always thought of Colonel Thatcher— and his wife,
for that matter—in such a fashion despite there being no actual
family connections between them. “I’ll be staying with him and Aunt
Margaret until I leave.”

“
Yes,”
the attorney said, nodding in approval. “I feel you’re wise to go
away for a while and try to put what’s happened out of your mind.
When will you go and where, so I can keep in touch with you over
anything that should develop?”

“
I
don’t know for sure where I’ll be going,” Belle admitted
truthfully. “And I won’t be leaving until I’ve attended to a few
things which I won’t be able to do wherever I have to go. But, when
the time comes, I want Uncle Dennis to have my power of attorney to
act completely in my behalf for as long as I am away.”

“
That’s very wise of you,” O’Connel praised. “In fact, it is
what I would have advised myself.”

“
I’ll
also want to have the means to have access to whatever money I
might need while I’m gone.”

“
That
can easily enough be arranged through the bank.”

“
Will
you attend to it for me as quickly as possible, please?”

“
That’s one of the things I’m here for, my dear,” the
attorney declared, looking at the girl in a speculative fashion and
noticing that there was something in addition to an understandably
deep grief over the death of her parents in her demeanor, although
he was unable to decide exactly what it might be for all of his
well-developed judgment of human nature in general and knowledge of
her personality in particular. “And you can’t tell me definitely
where you’re planning to go, or how long it will be before you come
back?”

“
No,”
Belle admitted quietly, yet her grim sense of purpose and
determination to see it through was just discernible to the man
across the desk from her. Her tone did not change as she continued,
“I’ve no idea where I may have to go, nor how long it will take me
to do what I have to do.”

~*~

Thinking of the way in which
she would soon be dressed, Belle Boyd was pleased that Mattie
Tobias was still not sufficiently recovered to have witnessed the
choice she had made for the attire she considered was best suited
for the visit she was intending to carry out. She was sure that
neither the garb she had selected nor the man she was going to see
would have met with the massive elderly Negress
’s approval. However, she
considered that Captain Anatol de-Farge could be of vital use to
her purpose if she could persuade him to do as she
wished.

Out of consideration for what
she hoped to achieve by the visit she was about to make, the girl
felt she was fortunate that the young man assigned to the task by
Auntie Mattie had included the garments—including the black riding
boots she prized so highly for their comfortable fit and the
freedom of movement they permitted—she had worn during the fox hunt
with the clothing he fetched from her bedroom. It was equally
fortuitous that he had also fetched her
epee de combat
and brace of Manton dueling
pistols, although he had not had time to collect the Colt revolver,
even if he had noticed it lying where it was dropped by Auntie
Mattie. She had already replaced it with one of the same model, but
was not taking it with her.

As something of
Belle
’s
less-than-conventional upbringing was well known to all the staff
of the Thatcher mansion, while making it plain that he did not
approve of such a flouting of accepted standards of behavior, the
groom who had made ready the horse from Baton Royale that she was
going to use had made no comment when being told she did not want
it to be fitted with a sidesaddle which to his way of thinking was
the only style a young woman of quality should use. Watching her
riding away, he grudgingly conceded that—despite having been
compelled to adopt the modified version caused by the rig she
selected lacking the support for the left leg offered by the only
acceptable type of female riding gear—she was contriving to handle
the spirited horse without any noticeable difficulty. He also
wondered why she had asked him to attach the sword and brace of
pistols, which were suspended from the saddle.

If the groom had seen the
changes the girl made to her appearance when in the area of
woodland that surrounded and offered privacy, he would have felt
even greater disapproval
and probably no little concern over her electing
to go there. First she took off and hung over a nearby bush the
black masculine top hat with gray muslin fastened around the base
and dangling almost to waist level down her back. These were placed
with the headdress, but she retained her thin black leather gloves,
as they were no impediment to freedom of movement by her hands.
Using the blow to her head as an excuse, she had had her hair cut
shorter than was currently considered fashionable although not to
the extremes she would have it shorn later. The removal of the
tight-waisted bodice and voluminous skirt of her modish and
socially acceptable riding habit left her clad in an open-necked
dark blue male shirt, snugly fitting black riding breeches, and the
boots.

With the changes made to her
appearance, Belle mounted the horse with none of the slight
difficulty she had experienced as the result of wearing feminine
attire in conjunction with a masculine type of saddle. Then, having
paused for a moment she required to steel her resolve for what she
was planning to do, she set the spirited bay moving. Rejoining the
narrow track from which she had deviated so as to be able to leave
her temporarily discarded garments in concealment from anybody who
might pass before she returned, she soon came into sight of her
destination. It was a mansion somewhat smaller than Baton Roy ale
Manor or the Thatchers
’ home, but gave indications of being equally well
maintained.

There was nothing about it to suggest that
the purposes to which the building was put by its owner were far
different from those of any of his neighbors. However, Belle was
aware—as were all the local women of her class with whom she was
acquainted—that it was run as an establishment devoted to gambling
by its owner. She was equally cognizant of the fact that, having
been discharged from the United States Army by a court-martial
following an accusation of cheating in a poker game for high stakes
and acquiring the reputation for being a successful duelist with
two fatalities to his credit, the man she was visiting was regarded
as persona non grata by well-raised feminine society throughout the
whole of Baton Bayou Parish.

Bringing the roan gelding to a
halt in front of the main entrance to the property, Belle was
amused by the reaction
from the young Negro who came running up on
discovering that she was a young woman dressed in masculine attire
and having weapons fastened to her saddle. However, having said
that he thought she could have come to the wrong place, without
explaining why he had reached such a conclusion, he offered to take
charge of the animal. Remarking that she was unsure of how long her
business with Captain de-Farge would take, she removed the sword
and pistols from the rig and surrendered the reins. Shaking his
head in puzzlement instead of making any further comment, the man
proceeded to lead the horse around the end of the building in a way
that suggested it was a regular part of his duties. Feeling sure
her mount would receive the best of attention, she walked across
the porch and, placing the weapons where they would not be seen by
whoever came in answer to her summons, used the large well-polished
brass knocker in the shaped of a stylized face of the
Devil.

“
Abandon hope all ye who enter here,” Belle mused with a wry
smile as she listened to the clatter she was making. “Oh well, I’ve
only myself to blame for coming.”

“
It’s
too early in the d—!” announced an irate feminine voice with what
the girl recognized as being an English accent that had the
suggestion of some culture and refinement acquired by practice
rather than as a result of having been to the manner born. Then
there was the sound of the big door being unlocked and bolts were
withdrawn so the door could be drawn open a short way. Clad in a
pink negligee that left little about her close-to-buxom and firmly
fleshed physical attributes to the imagination and very little else
except for open-toed and high-heeled white mules on her otherwise
bare feet, a clearly less-than-pleased woman looked out. Her hair,
which was of a hue suggestive in its redness of being in part
achieved by the use of henna, was rumpled and her face devoid of
the makeup it would almost certainly have in other circumstances.
Showing an increasing disdain, she ran her gaze up and down in a
way Belle found to be most annoying. “Oh, you’re one of
them,
are
you?”

“
I beg
your pardon?” the girl queried, genuinely puzzled by the cryptic
way in which the statement was made.