Dusty Fog's Civil War 10 Page 4

  “Southrons, hear your country call you,” the man said quietly. On hearing the first line of the militantly patriotic words General Albert Pike put to Daniel B. Emmet’s song ‘Dixie’, Belle relaxed. The Confederate Secret Service used it as a password by which agents could identify themselves to each other. Satisfied that there would be no danger, Belle still retained her hold of the bracelet. In its way, that bracelet was every bit as much a weapon as the key-pistol and no more likely to be suspected.

  “Up lest worse than death befall you,” she replied, giving the Counter-sign.

  “Absom sent me, the name’s Tolling,” the man said, entering the barn and looking her over with approval. “So you’re Miss Boyd. It’s a honor to meet up with you, ma’am.”

  “I hope I’m not too much of a disappointment,” Belle smiled. Despite her light answer, Belle felt pleased with the man’s obvious pleasure. It had been a hard struggle in the early days to gain male approval and acceptance by the Confederate States Secret Service, but now she was firmly established and shared honors with Rose Greenhow as the leading female lights of that organization. Between them, the two young women extracted much information and caused the Yankees untold trouble.

  In an age when young women of good birth were expected to be fragile, sheltered creatures, Belle received almost a unique upbringing. Born into a wealthy Southern family, she grew up with every advantage and luxury. However her father tended to be eccentric in some ways and made up for the disappointment of not having a son by teaching the girl to ride, handle a gun and other male accomplishments. A talented girl, Belle learned from her father without losing any of her femininity or forgetting to gain skill in female matters.

  When the Civil War first began to rear its head in the distance, Belle’s father stood out for the right of any sovereign state to secede from the Union if its interests clashed with the Federal Government; one of the main causes of the War, although the Yankees made much use of the slavery issue as being more likely to induce the masses to fight. Some weeks before the commencement of actual hostilities, a bunch of Union supporters attacked Belle’s home. They killed her mother and father, wounding the girl and might have done worse if the family’s ‘downtrodden and abused’ slaves had not arrived and driven off their ‘saviors’. By the time she recovered, the War had begun. Belle put her increased hatred of the Yankees to good use. Joining her cousin, Rose Greenhow, she became an agent for the Confederate Secret Service, often delivering the information gathered personally. Stonewall Jackson himself referred to Belle as his best courier, after she brought news to him which helped make possible the victory at the first battle of Bull Run.

  Since then Belle carried on the good work. While the Yankees knew her name, skilled use of disguises prevented her from being recognized. Pinkerton, soon to form his own detective agency, had his best operatives after Belle but without success.

  Using information she gathered, Belle had recently completed an assignment. With Dusty Fog’s aid, she captured a Yankee Army payroll and used the money to buy arms for the South. ii Resting until orders arrived directing her to another assignment, she posed as one of General Ole Devil Hardin’s kin on a visit from Texas. As such she naturally received an invitation to the ball. On receiving Tolling’s message that Ludlow was not all he seemed, Belle forgot relaxation and went into action with all the deadly efficiency that gained her the name ‘the Rebel Spy’.

  “Absom said you had black hair,” Tolling remarked as they walked across to and looked down at the groaning, stirring man.

  “This is a wig,” Belle replied, touching her ‘hair’. “Your note didn’t say much about him. Who is he?”

  “His real name’s Byron and he’s a real talented Yankee gentleman.”

  “One of their spies?”

  “Paid by them for it, anyways.”

  “And his game?”

  “Afore the War he used to work the riverboats,” Tolling explained. “Making up to rich women, cheating at cards. Got him a way of becoming real friendly.”

  “And now?”

  “There you’ve got me. He’s one of a bunch who the Yankees sent out of New Orleans. Lucienne got on to them and sent me after him. Only he traveled faster’n me and I’ve only just caught up with him.”

  “We’ll have to see if we can make him talk,” the girl remarked. “Only we can’t do it here or now. Can you keep him hidden until I find help to take him away?”

  “I reckon so,” Tolling drawled. “Only he’ll likely make a fuss when he comes too. If he does, I’ll whomp him over the head.”

  “You might do it too hard,” the girl smiled. “They do say Yankees have soft skulls. I’ve a better way, if you fetch me some water.”

  Crossing the stable to a pump fitted on to a stone sink in one corner, Tolling took up the metal dipper which hung on its side. He worked the pump’s handle, filled the dipper with water and returned to the girl. In his absence she had taken a ring with a large, heavy stone set into it from her bag. Holding the ring over the dipper, she touched its side and the stone flicked upwards at one side from the setting. A brown powder trickled out of the cavity exposed beneath the raised stone, dribbling into the water where it dissolved without a visible trace.

  “That’s neat,” Tolling said as the girl pressed the stone back into place.

  “Rose Greenhow suggested it and had one made for each of us,” Belle replied. “Although I think she stole the idea from reading about the Borgia family in Italy. If he drinks that he’ll give you no trouble.”

  “He’ll drink it,” Tolling assured her.

  Although they both were prepared to deal with some reluctance on Ludlow’s part, it failed to materialize. Most likely he would have objected to accepting a drink if he retained his normal quick wits. However Belle’s treatment robbed him of them temporarily and pain gave him a thirst. So he drank greedily when Tolling held the dipper to his lips.

  “He’s taking it like a deacon at a whisky still,” grinned Tolling.

  Hearing the voice, Ludlow focused his eyes first on the speaker, then past Tolling to where Belle stood. With a low curse, Ludlow tried to force himself up from the floor.

  “Don’t worry,” Belle told Tolling as he reached down to restrain Ludlow.

  Before Ludlow could do more than haul himself into a sitting position, the powder took effect. His body went limp and he slipped down to the floor again. Bending down, Tolling made a quick investigation and straightened up with a satisfied nod of his head.

  “He’s sleeping like a babe, Miss Boyd. That’s real potent stuff. What is it?”

  “I never learned its name,” the girl replied. “Rose got a supply of it from the clerk of a river-boat. He claimed that a small dose would put the biggest man to sleep and keep him that way for a couple of hours; and it does.”

  At that moment they heard the drumming of rapidly approaching hooves. Telling her companion to hide Ludlow under the straw, Belle darted to the stable door and looked out. A sigh of relief came from her as she recognized the rider who came towards her. If anything, she would find the problem of secretly removing Ludlow made easier with the newcomer’s arrival.

  Four – A Fortune in Counterfeit Money

  “Why Cousin Dusty,” Belle greeted, walking towards the small Texan as he halted his horse. “I surely didn’t expect to see you back here so soon.”

  For a moment the brunette wig fooled Dusty, then recognition came and he wondered what Belle might be doing at the stables.

  “I only just got in,” he replied, swinging from the saddle. “Was told back to the Regiment that Uncle Devil’s here and so I came right over. Is he up to the house, Belle?”

  “He surely is,” Belle agreed, speaking as she had all the time in the world for she saw a young officer approaching them. “I just knew something would happen to spoil his evening. ‘Beulah Parrish!’ I said when I saw you coming, ‘Cousin Dusty’s bringing trouble for Uncle Devil for certain sure.’ ”

  “You
could be right at that, Cousin Beulah,” Dusty drawled, grinning inwardly at the neat way in which Belle passed on her current identity. “Only it’s nothing to spoil his night.”

  Catching Dusty’s head shake, the officer steered his companion by without doing more than call a greeting. One look at Dusty’s appearance told Belle that he had ridden long and hard. So she put aside her thoughts of asking him to help with removing Ludlow. Only a matter of some importance would bring Dusty to interrupt Ole Devil at the ball. With that in mind she reverted to her original idea of going to Buck Blaze for help.

  “Why not let Tolling tend to stabling your horse?” she suggested.

  “Who?”

  “He works here,” smiled the girl. “It will save time, Dusty.” Normally Dusty would not have thought to allow a stranger to take care of his horse, so he realized the girl must have good reason for making the suggestion. Looking to where Tolling came from the stable, Dusty noticed the man walked with a pronounced limp. All too well Tolling knew of the deserter problem which plagued both sides throughout the War. Figuring that a healthy man employed in such a menial capacity might otherwise arouse comment, Tolling adopted a means of showing why he apparently did not serve his country.

  “Let me have your reins, Cap’n,” Tolling offered. “I’ll see to it for you.”

  Before leaving the horse, Dusty took three pads of money from its saddle-pouches and slipped them into the front of his tunic. Tolling led the horse away and Dusty turned to Belle.

  “I’d as soon not go into the ballroom dressed like this,” he said. “Reckon you can fix it for Uncle Devil to meet me outside?”

  “I’ll see to it,” she promised. “Go around the right side of the house and wait by the first door. I’ll ask the General to meet you there.”

  On entering the main room, Belle passed with leisurely-seeming speed to where Ole Devil sat talking to their host. Catching the girl’s slight signal, the General rose to his feet and joined her. Tall, lean, immaculate in his full-dress uniform, Ole Devil had a sharp, tanned, hawk-like face set in disciplined lines that rarely showed the true, generous nature underneath the hard exterior. When he heard of Dusty’s arrival, he nodded and returned to the host. As Belle expected, Joe Hemming, their host, put his study at Ole Devil’s disposal and she told the General that Dusty would be waiting at its outside door. So casually had both she and Ole Devil acted that none of the guests suspected anything might be wrong. After Ole Devil strolled off in the direction of the study, Buck Blaze drifted to Belle’s side.

  “You didn’t have to slap that preacher’s face, now did you, Cousin Beulah?” he asked with a grin.

  “How’d you guess?” she replied. “I need your help, Buck.”

  “It’s yours. What’s up?”

  “I’ll tell you on the way to the stables,” Belle promised. “Only let’s make it look natural, so nobody guesses something’s wrong.”

  Letting Dusty into Hemming’s study, Ole Devil walked across to the desk, waved the youngster into a chair and sat down facing him.

  “Well, Dustine,” the General said. “What brings you here?”

  “I’m not sure, sir,” Dusty answered, taking the money from his tunic and placing it upon the desk before his uncle. “I just thought you’d be interested in this money.”

  “Why?” asked Ole Devil, picking up one of the bundles.

  “We captured a Yankee convoy and found a box full of Confederate money in the possession of a civilian.”

  While Dusty spoke, Ole Devil thumbed through the notes. Then the General gave them a closer examination. When he raised his face to look at Dusty, the small Texan read interest and concern where most people would have seen no change of expression.

  “A box full like this?” the General said.

  “Yes, sir. I thought that the man might be taking it to the Indian Nations so he could have it passed to Yankee spies in Texas. Figured you’d be interested and as soon as we crossed the Ouachita I had the box loaded on a pack horse and came ahead of the company. They told me where to find you at Headquarters.”

  “The patrol went well?”

  “Easy enough, sir. We hit the Yankee guard on Elk Crossing at sundown, ran them off without loss to us. There was only a half company of Stedloe’s Zouaves and the Arkansas Rifles on our side gave us covering fire.”

  “Go fetch Miss Boyd,” Ole Devil ordered when Dusty finished speaking.

  Something in the General’s brusque manner told Dusty that he made the correct decision in coming ahead of his Company and interrupting Ole Devil’s relaxation. After the youngster left the room, Ole Devil remained seated at the desk and took up the other packets of money. Although his tanned face showed little or nothing, Ole Devil had never been more concerned than at that moment.

  While walking towards the barn, Dusty wondered what caused Ole Devil’s anxiety. Few people would have read the General’s moods, but Dusty knew his uncle felt deep concern at the find. More than the mere capture of a Yankee spies’ pay-master warranted on the surface. Ahead of Dusty, the man Belle had called Tolling emerged from the stables.

  Hearing Dusty’s approaching footsteps, Tolling quickly reverted to his painful-appearing limp; but suddenly realized that he had made a mistake. Not that it would matter under the circumstances; and he would never have made such a blunder in enemy territory. Anyway, Tolling mused, that small young captain—Belle had not thought to mention Dusty’s identity—was unlikely to notice—

  Even as the thought began to form, Tolling saw Dusty’s right hand make a move. Then the man stared into the muzzle of the Army Colt which a mere three-quarters of a second before reposed harmlessly in the small Texan’s left holster.

  “Where’d you get the wound, hombre?” Dusty asked.

  “At Antietam with the Hampton Legion, cap’n,” Tolling answered, staring at the Colt like a snake-mesmerized cottontail rabbit.

  Belle came from the stables, wondering to whom Tolling spoke. Halting, she looked from Dusty to Tolling.

  “What’s going on?” she said.

  “Did you see the way this gent limps?” asked Dusty.

  “Yes,” smiled the girl. “It looked very bad.”

  “Real bad,” drawled Dusty dryly. “Only it doesn’t stay in the one leg.”

  “It’s all right, Dusty,” Belle chuckled. “I can vouch for Tolling.”

  “He’s one of your crowd, is he?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sorry, mister,” Dusty said, holstering the Colt. “I figured you to be a deserter and reckoned the time to ask about it was after I made sure you couldn’t argue about answering.”

  “You made sure of that,” admitted Tolling. “I’ve never seen a gun come out so fast.”

  “I thought so too, the first time I saw it,” smiled Belle and looked at Dusty. “Your business with Ole Devil didn’t take long.”

  “He wants to see you as soon as convenient, Belle,” Dusty answered.

  “Which means right now, even though it’s not convenient,” the girl said. “Can you and Buck tend to things here, Tolling?”

  “I reckon so,” the man replied.

  “Then I’ll come straight away, Dusty,” the girl stated. Leaving the removal of Ludlow to Buck and Tolling, Belle accompanied Dusty to where Ole Devil waited for them. After seating the girl with his usual courtesy, Ole Devil told Dusty to go through the full story of the convoy’s capture again. Belle realized that something of importance lay behind the order and listened intently. Certainly Ole Devil would not call her in merely to hear the story of a successful raid.

  “What do you think, Miss Boyd?” asked the General when Dusty finished.

  “The box would have had an infernal contrivance fitted to destroy its contents if they were important,” the girl replied. “Which a shipment of money to pay their spies would be.”

  “And the money itself?”

  “May I see some of it, General?”

  “Help yourself,” authorized Ole Devil, waving a h
and to the three pads of notes on the desk top.

  Taking one pad up, the girl studied the top note and then turned her eyes in Dusty’s direction. “They were all new notes, Dusty?”

  “All I saw, although I didn’t take them all out to check.”

  Around Belle’s neck hung a pendant with a large locket attached. Reaching up, the girl unclipped the pendant and removed it. Watched by the two men, she then eased of the glass cover of the locket. Drawing the top bill from one of the pads, she held the glass over it. From where he stood, Dusty could see that the glass was in reality a powerful lens and the girl used its power of magnification to examine the bill carefully.

  “Well, Miss Boyd?” asked Ole Devil.

  “How big was the box you took, Dusty?” the girl inquired, ignoring the question.

  “About so big,” replied Dusty, demonstrating with his hands. “There’d be a fortune in it.”

  “And unless I’m mistaken,” Belle said quietly, “it’s a fortune in counterfeit money.”

  “Counterfeit?” Dusty repeated.

  “You thought so too, General,” Belle commented.

  “I thought so,” Ole Devil admitted.

  “Likely printing their own’s the only way the Yankees can lay hands on enough of our money to supply their spies, sir,” Dusty remarked.

  “It cuts deeper than that, Dusty,” Belle put in. “Much deeper.”

  “How d’ you mean, Belle?”

  “The Yankees could have found a mighty smart way to win the War.”

  “Miss Boyd’s right, Dustine,” Ole Devil went on. “If enough of this counterfeit money is put into circulation, it will ruin the South’s economy.”

  “One box full, sir?” asked Dusty.

  “The Yankees won’t stop at just the one,” Ole Devil replied and went on to explain how paper money only retained its value when its issuer possessed sufficient assets to cover its nominal value. “So if the Yankees can flood the South with this stuff they’re printing, we won’t be able to do so. Our economy will be smashed and that will end the War just as surely as if they whipped us on every battlefield.”