Wanted! Belle Starr! (20 page)

Breaking open the seal, Belle
extracted the deck and tossed aside the jokers. Then she subjected
the cards to what appeared to be nothing more than a casual
rippling under her right thumb. In reality, regardless of her
assumptions about the packet, she was conducting a most effective
test which would expose any secret markings there might be on the
backs.
^xxiii
Satisfied there were none, she
took the precaution of studying her intended victim to check for
signs that other forms of cheating were contemplated. Everything
seemed to be all right. Drusilla was not wearing any rings which
could conceal a mirror allowing the value of the cards to be
discovered as they were being dealt, nor were her fingernails long
or sharp enough to make marks on the backs during play. The
tightness of the dark green blouse’s cuffs precluded the use of a
‘hideout’, or even concealing cards up the sleeve. All in all, it
seemed the suggestion of using her own cards was nothing more than
a precaution against being cheated, or mere genuine
superstition.

“
When are the rest of the
gels coming?” the Englishwoman inquired, as the lady outlaw placed
the cards on the table and sat down.

“
They said they’d be along
about eight-thirty,” Belle replied, glancing at the grandfather
clock in a corner of the room. “But you know what they’re like when
they get talking politics.”

“
I do.”

“
Would you care for
another drink while we’re waiting?”

“
No, thank you. But what
say you and I have a few hands to pass the time until they get
here?”

“
Let’s do just that,”
Belle agreed, having meant to make the suggestion. “Straight draw,
no wild cards and for table stakes, unless you’ve something else in
mind?”

“
I never play any other
way,” Drusilla claimed and opened her reticule to take out a thick
wad of money. “There’s two thousand of your dollar-things here, old
sport. Hope you and the others can match it?”

“
I certainly can,” the
lady outlaw declared, having brought a similar sum and removing it
from the bag she had placed to the right of where she was seated.
“Shall we cut for deal?”

With the game commenced, Belle needed only a
few hands to realize she was dealing with a most competent
opponent. Judging by various indications, the Englishwoman was well
versed in more than just the playing tactics. However, the lady
outlaw was unable to detect any attempts at employing cheating
techniques to improve the run of the cards. Nor, due to the clearly
knowledgeable scrutiny to which she was subjected, was she able to
do so when dealing.

“
Great heavens, just look
at the time!” Drusilla ejaculated, after something over an hour of
very competitive play had passed without any decisive advantage
either way. “Where can those blasted gels be?”

“
They should be here by
now,” Belle lied, then stretched. “I don’t know about you, but my
throat is dry. Let’s have another drink, shall we?”

“
I was hoping you’d ask,”
the Englishwoman declared. “That’s quite an adequate port for over
here.”

Crossing to the sidepiece, the lady outlaw
reached into a concealed pocket at the front of her skirt’s
waistband. Despite carrying the means to do so, it had not been her
intention to resort to the measures she was contemplating. Nor
would she have done so if the butler had not assured her he could
evade any suggestion of complicity should her victim lodge a
complaint with the town marshal. However, she concluded that she
could not continue the pretence of there being other players coming
for much longer and had decided to take the easy way out.

Extracting a small pill box containing the
kind of drug she had used on David Icke at Mulrooney, Belle tipped
some into Drusilla’s glass and added a measure of port. A quick
shake speeded the dissolving process and removed all visible traces
of the addition before she was ready to return. With this done,
topping up her own glass, she picked up the tray from which she had
served the first drinks and walked back to the table. Taking the
glasses from it, the Englishwoman moved both in circular motions
before setting them down.

“
That’s how my pater said
the best bouquet could be given to port, old thing,” Drusilla
remarked, placing the correct glass in front of the lady outlaw.
Raising her own in the manner of proposing a toast, she continued,
“Here’s strength to women’s suffrage!”

“
May it soon be coming!”
Belle countered, remaining on her feet and tipping all the port
down her throat as an inducement for the Englishwoman to do the
same.

Aware of how quickly the potion could take
effect, the lady outlaw knew she would not have long to wait after
Drusilla duplicated her action by swallowing the contents of the
glass. However, as she saw the other becoming aware that something
was wrong and trying to rise, a wave of dizziness assailed her.
Even as a realization of what must be causing it came to her, her
legs buckled beneath her.

With almost simultaneous thuds, the two
beautiful women collapsed and sprawled unconscious upon the
floor.

Although Belle Starr was not aware of it, on
regaining consciousness some ninety minutes after falling to the
floor, the sensations which assailed her were much the same as
those experienced by David Icke when he recovered from having been
drugged by her.

Several seconds elapsed before the lady
outlaw was able to realize that she was not alone in her
suffering!

Hearing a low groan from somewhere nearby,
Belle forced herself to make the effort and raised her head from
the carpet to investigate. What she saw indicated she was incorrect
in her assumption that, by some inexplicable accident, she had
caused herself to drink the drugged port prepared for her intended
victim.

Looking far from arrogant, with the monocle
dangling from her neck by its cord instead of at her left eye, the
honey-blonde Englishwoman was slowly struggling into a kneeling
position. Finding she was under observation by the cause of her
misfortunes, she let out a furious hiss and began to rise. Seeing
the anger which came to her beautiful and patrician features, the
lady outlaw concluded it was advisable to do likewise. Swaying as
they came to their feet, each waited for the dizziness caused by
her movements to clear away.

“
Drug me, would you?”
Drusilla St. John-Bellweather ejaculated as her stance steadied,
stepping forward and swinging around her left hand an instant
before Belle was ready to move.

Despite having so recently regained her
faculties, the way in which the punch was delivered by the
Englishwoman was indicative of considerable skill. In fact, struck
on the side of the jaw, the lady outlaw might have counted herself
fortunate that her assailant had not yet completely thrown off the
effects of the potion she had administered. Even with such a
disadvantage, the impact sent her in a twirling sprawl against the
table. Brought to a halt, the pain caused by the blow cleared her
head. However, although within reaching distance of her reticule,
she made no attempt to draw out her Manhattan Navy Model
revolver.

Glancing over her shoulder, Belle was
spurred into motion by the sight of the honey blonde rushing
forward. Wavering slightly as she thrust herself erect, she used
the impetus of her turn to change the advance into a hurried
involuntary retreat with an equally skilful punch by her clenched
right fist. Despite the success she achieved, she did not believe
the affair was over. Nevertheless, she continued to ignore the
readily available weapon. Instead of arming herself, she set about
acquiring a greater freedom of movement than would be possible
while dressed in such a comparatively restrictive fashion.

As was the case with most of the clothing
owned by the lady outlaw, the garments she was wearing had been
made to help cope with the kind of situation she was now in.
Hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her skirt, she gave a
twisting tug which caused it to open. Allowing the garment to fall
to the floor, leaving her clad below the blouse in black tights of
the kind worn by certain types of female entertainers, and high
button shoes, she stepped clear of it. However, even while doing
so, she discovered the advantage she had hoped to gain by
discarding it might be nullified.

Having been sent reeling until reaching the
wall by the sidepiece, the Englishwoman had clearly arrived at the
same conclusions as the lady outlaw. What was more, although such a
way of tailoring was far from common in fact, Belle knew of only
one other person who always had it done the skirt worn by Drusilla
was capable of just as speedy a removal. Regardless of the close to
masculine lines of her outer attire, discarding it brought into
view attire which was indisputably feminine. Not only were the red
satin drawers trimmed with black lace, much briefer and far less
decorous than might be expected from external appearances, the
sheer black silk stockings and their fancy red suspender straps
were in no way complimentary to the low heeled and less than
stylish shoes on her feet.

Surprised by finding out that
the Englishwoman was able to escape from the skirt as easily as she
had done, there was no time for the lady outlaw to wonder whether
she too had come by the idea as a result of having made the
acquaintance of Belle Boyd. It had been from the Rebel Spy, now
serving as an agent for the United States’ Secret Service,
^xxiv
that Belle Starr had learned the
secret of the readily opening waistband now fitted to all her
garments.

Freed from whatever restraints to mobility
the discarded skirts would otherwise have imposed, the two
beautiful women moved forward to resume hostilities!

In spite of bringing up their hands clenched
in a manner indicating they had a knowledge of fist fighting, the
pair did not indulge in any preliminary sparring. As soon as they
judged they were in range, each began to throw punches. Being so
evenly matched in size, the first blows arrived almost
simultaneously. Caught on the cheek as her right hand arrived
against Drusilla’s left eye, Belle immediately sent her other
knuckles up to the breast and received an equally solid hook to the
solar plexus in return.

For several seconds, the toe to
toe slugging went on with reckless abandon. However, combined with
neither being at her best, the speed with which the pair sought to
deliver their punches prevented either from producing one blow
capable of rendering the recipient
hors de combat
. However, the exchange kept them at
arms’ length until a miss by Belle brought them
together.

On going into something resembling a boxer’s
clinch, the combatants grappled. After giving and taking a couple
of blows at close quarters, the lady outlaw learned her opponent’s
ability was not restricted to fist fighting. Feeling herself being
grasped in a familiar way, she was unable to avoid a throw over
Drusilla’s hip. The thickness of the carpet cushioned her landing
somewhat. Seeing the Englishwoman looming over her with a foot
raised to stamp, she caught and twisted at it before it could
descend. Sent staggering by the push she received, Drusilla was
prevented from going down by colliding with the table. On turning
away from it, she found Belle was already standing up.

Coming together, the lady outlaw and the
Englishwoman continued to employ tactics more usual between men.
Fists flew, wrestling holds were obtained and broken, throws of
various kind sent first one and then the other flying. Somewhere
along the way, without any deliberate intent, the right sleeves was
torn from Belle’s blouse. Later, her attempt to strangle Drusilla
came to nothing when the cord of the monocle which she was using
snapped. The punch which came up beneath her chin as the force she
had been exerting caused her arms to open sent her stumbling
backwards.

Bending at the waist, the Englishwoman
charged to ram her head into the lady outlaw’s chest. Despite the
croak of pain she elicited, the attack proved less beneficial than
she wished. Driven backwards and going down, Belle manage to grab
and drag her assailant with her. Feeling her equilibrium being
destroyed, Drusilla could not regain it. Forced to follow the other
woman, the two knees which came up flipped her in a half somersault
to land on her back beyond the short cropped brunette head.

Coming to their feet more slowly than they
had earlier in the struggle, the embattled pair plunged together
without hesitation. After trading a couple of less effective
punches, they stumbled into each other’s arms. Having struggled for
a few seconds, they tripped and fell still locked in the mutually
encircling limbs. Nor, despite the landing provoking gasps from
both, did alighting on the carpet cause them to break away.
Instead, they began to churn over and over in a tight, squirming
mill.

Although both women had relied upon not
inconsiderable skill at boxing and wrestling until falling, there
was nothing scientific about the conflict which ensued. A growing
exhaustion mingled with primeval instincts for self preservation,
caused them to forget such basically masculine tactics and the
fighting became entirely feminine in what was being done.

Hair was pulled, causing the destruction of
the hitherto untouched honey blonde bun, or used as an aid to bang
heads on the floor. Hands punched, slapped, grabbed, clutched or
scrabbled indiscriminately at faces, shoulders, backs and bosoms.
However, although attempts were made to scratch, neither had nails
sufficiently long for them to break the skin. Shapely legs,
stockings and tights soon ruined, flailed and intertwined
incessantly. Knees were driven between thighs, or against stomachs
with an equally unguided vigor. Provoked by anger and mutual
suffering, squeals, grunts, gasps and garbled profanity served to
punctuate the various instinctive activities.