Mississippi Raider (5 page)

On entering the passage, Belle saw that she
was not a moment too soon.

Already the
girl
’s
mother and father, the former looking like an older version of
herself, were coming from their quarters. Each was carrying a Colt
revolver, supplemented by a cavalry saber in the case of Vincent
Boyd, and she knew they were as capable as herself of using the
weapons. This was proved by her father turning and firing to send a
bullet into the torso of the first ruffianly-looking man to reach
the head of the stairs from the ground floor. However, there were
too many others closely following for Boyd to deal with them all
unaided. Even as Belle was raising and firing the pistol in her
right hand, she saw her mother shoot at the next of the
attackers.

Unfortunately, Electra Boyd and
Belle had inadvertently selected the same target. Struck in the
head and chest by the two bullets, the second of the men who had
forced the entrance into the mansion was twirled around and dropped
without being allowed to use his own weapon. While the girl was
changing her pistols, being a better shot with her right hand, she
saw the men she suspected as being the
“unfortunates” mentioned by Auntie
Mattie when delivering the warning about the possible danger of
going hunting alone in the woods at night. Without knowing their
identity, she concluded that they were posing a most dangerous
threat to her parents.

Somehow having been pushed into the
forefront of the mob while ascending the stairs, Tollinger and
Barmain were the next to arrive on the second floor. They were most
alarmed when they discovered that the women they had believed would
be the sole white occupants of the mansion were accompanied by its
owner. What was more, as was proved by the fate of the first pair
to confront Boyd, his wife, and the slender, skimpily clad girl who
was obviously their daughter, each of them was proving to be most
competent in handling the weapons they were holding.

Fright close to a sensation of
numbing terror erupted through both of the
“liberals” simultaneously when a full
appreciation of their danger struck home. However, the realization
provoked each to respond with greater alacrity than would have been
the case if granted time to think. Bringing up the Smith &
Wesson revolvers in the kind of double-handed way they had
discovered on the few occasions when they were carrying out
practice, they sighted and began to shoot as fast as they could
squeeze the trigger to operate the double-action mechanism. By
chance rather than any kind of deliberate intent, they selected
different marks at which to fire.

Firing from such a close range,
and aided by the light weight and far-from-potent recoil kick of
their weapons, Tollinger and Barmain were able to make hit after
hit upon their inadvertently chosen victims.
The former sent each bullet
into the body of Electra Boyd and the latter directed his attention
to seeking the same general target on her husband. Even with the
puny powder load and diminutive .22-caliber loads that were all the
early example of metal cartridge-handling weapons could handle, the
cumulative effect of seven pieces of lead driving into the torso in
rapid succession was too great for either recipient to be able to
fend it off.

Although Boyd managed to
discharge his Colt Model of 1848 Dragoon revolver, its .44-caliber
ball went over Bar-main
’s head and he followed his wife, her Model of
1849 Pocket Pistol—also a revolver despite its given name—remaining
unfired, in going down. Seeing what had befallen her parents, a
scream that seemed closer to animal than human burst from Belle.
However, she did not restrict herself to just the vocal response.
Letting the discharged pistol drop, she sent her liberated left
hand to join the right on the butt of its mate to adopt the same
kind of shooting posture the “liberals” were using and sighted on
the head of the one who had fired at her mother.

Barmain should have died at that moment.

However, just as Belle completed the
required pressure on the set-trigger of the excellently made
British pistol and its hammer snapped downward toward the waiting
percussion cap that would have set off the powder in the chamber,
impelled by a desire to be first to select booty, the foremost of
the other men jostled him aside. Through the swirling white smoke
of the exploded charge, the girl saw him struck in the shoulder by
the bullet she had dispatched with the intention of avenging the
attack upon her mother.

Alarmed by what he realized had
been a very close escape
from injury or perhaps even death, the shorter of
the “liberals” allowed the rest of the hard cases to go by. Being
made aware by the repeated metallic click’s of the descending
hammer, instead of detonations, which were sounding that his
revolver was empty, Tollinger behaved in the same fashion. Then,
exchanging glances as they mutually—and without the need for
discussion—concluded that the resistance being put up was much
greater than they had anticipated and could be reaching an
unacceptably dangerous level, the pair swung around to return
hurriedly to the ground floor and left the building.

Added to the realization that
the commotion might be heard by the Boyds
’ neighbors and bring armed
assistance, knowing how competent it was certain to be, what
Tollinger and Bar-main saw happening closer at hand was sufficient
to send them scurrying along the gravel path toward the front
entrance of the property as fast as their legs—given the impulsion
caused by fear of the consequences—could carry them. From the
continued sounds of conflict that followed them, they realized that
the fighting inside the building was still going on and their only
desire was to put as much distance as possible at the greatest
speed they could muster between themselves and what they had caused
to happen.

Having no doubt what their fate would be if
they were captured, the pair also concluded that—regardless of
their orders or how others engaged elsewhere in the South upon the
same mission might be faring—they would make all haste in returning
to the safety of an area with stout pro-Northern sympathies.

Having the small-minded,
vindictive, and untrustworthy natures of their kind, the pair
decided to take revenge upon the local
“liberal” businessman they held
responsible for their predicament. Confident there was no way in
which he could retaliate, as he did not even know that the names
they were using were assumed for the assignment, they would betray
him to the authorities when clear of the immediate danger area.
However, having similar characteristics in his makeup, the intended
victim, on hearing news of what happened, and also fled to security
from capture presented by settling in antislavery-committed
territory.

W
ith the load from the second Manton
dueling pistol discharged, Belle Boyd did not waste as much as a
second by indulging in futile mental recriminations, despite
experiencing a surge of anger over the failure to hit her intended
target even though she was aware that her aim was not at fault.
Allowing the English-made weapon to fall alongside its
earlier-fired and discarded mate, watching more of the invaders
coming her way and realizing she must acquire the means to deal
with whatever evil they might contemplate, she turned and darted
back toward the door of her suite. Seeing her coming, having been
on the point of following her into the passage, Martha Jonias drew
back with an alacrity that seemed out of place for one of such an
age and bulk.

“
Please get the Colt from my bedside table!” the girl said
as she went by the elderly Negress, the lessons she had received in
good manners causing her to employ the first word despite the
extreme urgency of the situation.

Without waiting to reply,
Auntie Mattie showed a similar speed when getting out of the
girl
’s way
by closing the door before going to carry out the request. However,
knowing there was no way in which it could be secured—locks and
bolts never having been considered necessary for rooms inside the
mansion of Baton Roy ale plantation—she immediately and just as
swiftly went to carry out the instructions she was given. Paying no
further attention to her former nurse and now mentor, Belle hurried
toward the fireplace of the sitting room.

Reaching up, the girl lifted
the outer of the two swords from where it hung across its almost
identical mate below the fencing mask. Giving it a swishing motion
as if limbering up to engage in a practice bout, then hearing a
crash and guessing at its cause, she turned in the direction from
which she had come. As she guessed had happened, one of the men,
being unaware of the rules that prevailed in her home where
such
things
were concerned, had charged into and burst open the door. Because
the entrance to the sitting room had been effected far more easily
than he anticipated, he staggered out of control across the
threshold. However, two more of the raiding party were close on his
heels.

Much to her annoyance, Belle saw that none
of the men were the pair she had seen shoot down her parents.
However, she felt some slight relief from observing that they were
not carrying firearms. Because each held a knife of sizable
dimensions, she concluded on that account that they were far from
being innocuous. Passing his still-staggering companion, the first
of the pair darted toward her. Despite seeing the sword she was
grasping, he felt sure he had nothing to fear from the skimpily
attired and curvaceously slender girl regardless of the expression
of grim determination and deadly loathing on her beautiful
face.

The hard case soon discovered how wrong his
conclusion had been.

Responding as her training at fencing taught
her, Belle went to meet her would-be assailant with the swift and
competent precision of one well-versed in such matters, despite
putting the knowledge to use in earnest for the first time. Going
into a close-to-perfect classical lunge, she sent the shining blade
of her weapon driving toward the man. Showing an appreciation of
his peril and possessing sufficient control over his movements to
be able to take evasive action, he made a rapid withdrawal that
carried him beyond the range of the attack, even though doing so
caused him to run up against the man who had effected the
entrance.

Following up the thwarted
attack, the girl prepared to make the best possible use of the
qualities that made the
epee de combat
she was holding such an effective weapon.
Unlike a foil, which could only be employed to make a lunging
thrust with the point, the edges of its blade were sharpened so as
to permit cutting and slashing after the fashion of the heavier
saber. It was this kind of tactic she elected to put into practice.
However, while commencing to deliver the cut at the head she was
contemplating—despite the rage she was still experiencing over the
shooting of her parents—her instincts and upbringing revolted
against inflicting an injury that would almost certainly cause the
death of another human being. Therefore, at the last moment she
changed her target. Instead of slashing into the man’s throat, the
blade laid open his right cheek in a way that would scar him for
life.

Watching the devastating speed and obvious
competence with which Belle was making the attack, the third of the
men decided against taking her on with the knife he held. Despite
the length of its blade, it was considerably shorter than the sword
she was wielding so effectively. With that thought in mind, he saw
a means of avoiding the need to do so. What was more, he considered
that he was suitably equipped by virtue of his birth and upbringing
to make the most of the opportunity. A French Creole from a
moderately wealthy family who had turned to a life of crime after
having been disowned by his father for being caught cheating at
cards, he had received instruction in fencing while growing up.
Although he had not kept up the practice after fleeing from the
wrath of the men he had cheated, he was confident that he could
still use the more suitable weapon he had noticed on entering the
room.

Transferring the knife into his left hand,
the Creole darted over to reach with the right for the second epee
on the wall.

Hoping to achieve surprise, as he had no
liking for the prospect of having to engage in serious combat with
one who was such an obviously capable antagonist regardless of her
sex, the Creole swung around with it in his grasp. Much to his
relief, as he had been made aware of how effectively she could
wield the weapon, he found that the girl had turned her attention
to the man who had forced the entry for them. Confident he would be
able to make the attack before being detected, he advanced and went
into a lunge, as he had been taught. In his haste, he made it from
slightly farther away than he intended.

However, with his intended
victim
’s
attention being distracted, the Creole felt sure he would still
achieve his purpose.

Having recovered his
equilibrium and thrust the wounded man aside, the hard case who had
gained admittance to the room with an unneeded charge at the door
found himself able to tackle the beautiful girl. On the point of
lunging at her, he heard a feminine bellow redolent of a
close-to-bestial rage and swung his gaze toward its source.
Although he realized that
there was a potentially grave danger threatening
from that direction, he reacted too slowly to prevent it from
happening.