Mississippi Raider (7 page)

Although some more of the men
tried to come to the floor and fetch down the bodies of Electra and
Vincent Boyd, the ferocity of the conflagration defeated them. In
fact, the staircase was already beginning to quiver with an
increasing violence as the still-unconscious girl and injured
Negress were being carried down. The latter had only just arrived
on the comparative safety of the ground floor when flames began to
lick upward to consume the steps; a few seconds later, the
staircase collapsed, cutting off access to the upper portion of the
building from that direction. Having stopped to gather up
Belle
’s
weapon in addition to the clothing he had grabbed at
random—including some of the masculine attire and the boots she had
worn for the hunt—Front de Boeuf was the last to descend, and it
was only by taking a flying leap before reaching the final six or
so feet that he was able to escape being trapped by the
disintegration of what had been part of the pride of Baton Royale’s
fixtures.

Driven backward by the heat and fumes, with
the exception of the men who had come in the hope of effecting a
rescue, all who were driven from the mansion by the flames stood in
silence as they watched impotently the destruction of what had been
a fine and happy home. While Front de Boeuf was putting his medical
training to use in what was to prove a successful bid to keep
Auntie Mattie alive until a more experienced local practitioner of
the healing arts could arrive, the rest expressed their feelings in
whatever way their temperaments called for. Their vocal efforts
were accompanied by the wailing of the Negresses who had followed
their menfolk when it became apparent that an attack upon the
mansion was taking place and, some of them at least, had played a
not-ineffective part in helping to rout the mob.

Furthermore, it was only with
some difficulty that the furious women were restrained from dealing
in a most painful manner with the three men who had failed to make
good an escape. Not that, in view of the less-than-gentle way they
were treated to extract information that would be of help to the
local peace officers when investigating the cause of the attack,
they were inclined to consider the change of sex where their
interrogators was concerned to have been noticeably more
beneficial. Regardless of coming from well-to-do families and
having been raised with a strict respect for the due processes of
the law, the young guests on what had turned out to be Vincent
Boyd
’s last
hunt had had no qualms over the means employed by Joe Lassiter.
Claiming to have Seminole Indian blood, he had applied what he said
were methods acquired from that nation of savagely efficient
swamp-dwelling and -fighting warriors to procure the
answers.

~*~

“
What
happened to Momma and Poppa?” Belle Boyd asked in tones redolent of
the grief she was trying to keep in check after she had recovered
sufficiently from the blow by the thrown pistol to take notice of
her surroundings. She was sitting up with her back resting against
a stone wall that she had often rested against while playing on the
grounds of the mansion.
“Please
tell me, Reverend Jacob!”

Once safely removed from the
burning building, the still-unconscious girl had been carried to a
small summer-house that stood unscathed by the attack not far from
where her home was being gutted by the fire. On carrying out a
quick examination of her injury, before starting to do what he
could for Auntie Mattie, Phillipe Front de Boeuf had satisfied
himself that she was in no immediate danger. There was a blue-black
contusion on the side of her head where the contact with the weapon
was made, but the skin had not been cut. Concluding that there was
nothing more he could do for her at that moment, he had given
instructions to the little Negress who served as her maid to get
her into some more adequate attire. Leaving this to be carried out,
knowing there was no need for him to remain to supervise the
covering of the skimpy undergarments—which he had checked and found
to his relief carried bloodstains from her assailants and were not
caused by her own having been shed in the fighting—he had returned
to devote his full attention to the elderly woman who had insisted
that he see to the needs of her
“li’l lamb” first.

“
I’
m sorry to have to tell you this, child,” the oldest member
of the hunting party replied, his voice brittle with anger and
remorse. He was the Reverend Jacob Keith, and as minister of the
Episcopalian church at Baton Rouge, he had always been a good
friend of the Boyd family. He had known the girl since the day she
was born, and in addition to officiating at her christening, had
often been a coconspirator with her father where the
less-than-conventional aspects of her education were concerned. A
sturdy and cheery man in his early fifties, he was respected by his
parishioners for his warmth, and the pithy sermons he preached were
much admired by the majority of those who heard them. Furthermore,
his keenness to indulge in all kinds of hunting and fishing, as
well as a tolerance toward drinking hard liquor provided it was
done in moderation, except on Sundays or the recognized church
holidays, endeared him to the younger male members of his
community. However, he had never relished less anything he had
carried out in accordance with his duties around the parish than
the task he was now facing. “But they were both killed.”

“
I saw
it happen,” Belle said in a voice barely louder than a whisper, but
in tones redolent of her deep sense of bitterness as she remembered
how she had failed to shoot either of the men who had done the
killing. Then a shudder she could not restrain ran through her
slender yet curvaceous frame and she asked in only a slightly less
softly spoken voice, “Where are they now?”

“
We
had to leave them where they fell,” Keith answered just as quietly,
and he felt the girl’s hands tighten upon his in a grip that made
him wince. ‘Tm sorry, Belle, but there was nothing else we could
do. By the time you and Auntie Mattie had been brought down, the
stairs were too far gone with the flames for anybody to go up
again. There wasn’t a shortage of volunteers, black and white, to
make a try by the servants’ stairs, but I found it was the same
there and wouldn’t let them take the chance. Knowing them as I did,
I felt your mother and father wouldn’t have wanted lives lost for
them under the circumstances.”

“
I
know that,” the girl admitted, and realizing just how tightly she
had hold, loosened her grasp on the minister’s hands. She looked
toward where her home was rapidly being reduced to a blazing ruin
and with a shudder braced herself. “Momma and Poppa always loved
Baton Royale so much. Somehow I think they would feel more content
to know they are still with it even though it’s almost
gone.”

“
I
think they would, too, although I probably shouldn’t come right out
and say so,” Keith asserted, being opposed to cremation as a
prelude to burial in most circumstances. “How do you
feel?”

“
My
head aches, but I’m all right otherwise,” Belle replied. Then she
let out a gasp and made as if to stand up. “Where’s Auntie
Mattie?”

“
They
brought her out safely,” the Reverend answered, laying gently
restraining hands on the girl’s shoulders and feeling the wiry
strength he already had cause to know was possessed by her trim
body.

“
I
think I saw her shot,” the girl gasped, but felt too weak to get up
and look for herself. “In fact, I
know
I did. It happened while she was saving my
life.”

“
She
was shot, all right, and is suffering from a bad wound in the
torso,” Keith admitted. “But young Front de Boeuf is doing all he
can for her, and he’s proving surprisingly good at it after the
trouble his family had to get him to take up medicine instead of
joining the Army or going ranching in Texas with his uncle Winston.
Fortunately, Doctor Soames is dining with the Thatchers. They’re
sure to have heard the disturbance, and the Colonel is sure to come
with men to find out what’s happened, so he will be able to take
over when he arrives.”
^vi

“
How
about Poppa Jonias?” Belle wanted to know, fresh thoughts flooding
back and causing her to realize that the post of butler was so ably
performed by Auntie Mattie’s small and always cheerfully efficient
husband that he was sure to have been waiting somewhere on the
ground floor ready to admit the members of the hunt when they
arrived from helping Joe Lassiter attend to the muck ponies they
had used.

“
He
was knocked unconscious by one of them,” the minister replied. “But
they got him out and he’s come ‘round. As Mattie can’t, some of the
other women are taking care of him.”

“
I
hope they are some she approves of,” Belle remarked, feeling the
need to say something completely inconsequential to relieve her
tensed nerves and being all too aware how her former “mammy” and
now mentor was very aware of the social distinctions. “I
wouldn’t
dare
say so to her face, but Auntie Mattie has always struck me
as being something of a snob.”

“
And
you’re well advised
not
to say so, my girl, for shame,” Keith asserted, knowing the
reasons for the remark and wanting to help bring about the desired
result.

Before any more could be said, Lassiter and
one of the party who had ridden his muck ponies in the hunt came up
dragging a bedraggled, bloodied, and obviously very frightened man
between them.

“
This
son of a bit—!” the huntsman began, then brought the words to a
halt as he realized he was speaking in an inappropriate fashion
under the prevailing conditions, regardless of his own feeling on
the subject. “Sorry, Be—Miss Boyd, Reverend. This stinking
river-rat just can’t
wait
to start answering questions.”

“
Don’t
let them—!” the clearly terrified and already suffering captive
yelled, looking at the minister.

“
I’d
say that all depends on
you,”
Keith answered with no sign of sympathy. “I want
to hear everything that will help the law get the rest of you
scum.”

“
So do
I,” Belle declared, and she no longer looked like the young and
friendly girl whom the minister had known from the day of her
birth. Rather, she was even more cold and pitiless in the way she
appeared than Lassiter, for all his Seminole blood. “Especially
about the two men who killed my parents. Because I’m going to see
both of them dead!”

“
No,
Belle,” the minister said quietly, despite guessing that he was
speaking in vain. He also realized that it was one of the very few
times he had thought of the girl in terms of her sex. “That’s no
work for
you.”

“
Yes
it
is,
Reverend Jacob,” the girl contradicted with vehemence.
“Poppa always wanted to have a son and couldn’t, so he trained me
to take that place. Now it is up to me to be the son he always
wanted, and that is what I intend to do.”

At that moment, Belle Boyd was set upon the
path that would gain her the sobriquet Rebel Spy.

“
Y
ou have no financial worries, Belle,” Counselor Seamus
O’Connel said in his usual dryly legal tones, which had only the
slightest trace of his Irish origins, looking at the slender girl
clad in the formal attire of mourning who was seated at his desk.
Having been on terms of close friendship with her family for a
great many years, he was finding difficulty keeping up a pose of
coldly businesslike purpose in his demeanor. “I have all the
information from the bank and your people have been through the
ruins of Baton Roy ale Manor. They’ve found all your mother’s and
your jewelry. Some of the settings are damaged, but the actual
stones have come through unscathed.”

Three days had elapsed since
the attack upon Belle Boyd
’s home had caused the death of her
parents.

Alarmed by the reports he was given about
the disturbance, Colonel Dennis T. Thatcher had come from his home
as fast as his horse could carry him. He had been accompanied by
his male dinner guests, including Doctor Calvin Soames and a couple
of politicians involved in the ever-worsening dispute that was
growing over whether Louisiana should join the other Southern
states in announcing secession from the Union. Vincent Boyd would
have been attending, but he had had the fox hunt planned before
learning it was to take place and suspected there might be no more
for some time, since all the younger men were to enroll in the Army
of the Confederate States as soon as word came that hostilities
were commenced.

Being in favor of secession and
knowing how useful they would be in that capacity, also how such a
pleasurable experience was certain to be curtailed once they
entered the service, the Colonel had agreed that the outing must
take place as arranged and excused his old friend from the need to
attend on that account. He and the men accompanying him were
distressed to discover that they had arrived too late to supply
the
intended
succor. However, the doctor had examined Mattie Jonias and stated
his approval of the way in which Phillipe Front de Boeuf had dealt
with the treatment of her wound and announced, to Belle’s relief,
that she was already on the road to recovery.