No Good Like It Is Read online

  Forrest was injured and blood-spattered, but the blood was from two dead horses, and the injuries were from being thrown when they were killed. His blood was always up in a fight, and now he was livid, shouting orders.

  “They’re shooting contraband, Goddamit. You officers and sergeants put a stop to it. Get those guns turned around. Goddamn. Do I have to do everything?” He dismounted, and limped to help manhandle one of the guns to face the river.

  Two sergeants from ‘B’ Company, distinguished as Rangers by the Lone Star emblem on their hats, pushed ten more Negro prisoners toward the moat. The Wizard saw them.

  “You there. Rangers. That’s the way. At least somebody listened to my orders. Take care of ‘em, boys. They’re valuable property.”

  Dobey moved off.There was still heavy firing beyond the rear embankment, and sporadic yelling and pistol shots inside the fort. As Dobey moved through the first tent, two things were apparent: it was a hospital tent, and all of the wounded had been executed. There were shots and shouting from the next tent. Dobey had slung the captured Henry; he cocked the Spencer and started into the next tent.

  A wounded Negro stumbled out and into him, holding his bleeding neck. Wide-eyed in fear, he fell back from Dobey. Dobey pointed toward the area held by the Texans, and said, “Go there. You’ll be helped.”

  As Dobey started to push open the flap, a drunken Rebel sergeant ran into him, shouting, “Get back in here, nigger. I ain’t through with you.” He tried to push Dobey aside, and fired his pistol at the Negro soldier, missing him.

  “Yes, you are.” Dobey butt-stroked the sergeant’s jaw, knocking him back into the tent and down. Dobey stepped over his legs inside and yelled, “Hold what you got.”

  There were four rows of cots full of bluecoats, with other wounded on the plank floors. Five Rebels, searching the dead, looked up stupidly. One, a sergeant, lurched toward Dobey, waving a Starr revolver. “These are ours. You get outta here. We got these, and we’ll do what we please with ‘em.” He stopped suddenly, looked down at a wounded Negro sergeant, and said, “Gonna rise up against your masters, was you?” He shot the Negro, and Dobey shot him. The big carbine bullet knocked the sergeant over a cot.

  Behind Dobey someone yelled, “You killed Shoe, you sumbitch!” Starting to turn, Dobey felt a paralyzing pain in his right side and fell between two cots. There were two quick pistol shots, and the sergeant that Dobey had clubbed fell on top of him, moaning.

  “Get off my officer, you back-stabbing little son of a bitch. Rest of you get outta here. I see you hurt another prisoner, I’ll kill every damn one of you.” Melton swung his Colt, inviting defiance.

  The Rebel sergeant pushed himself off of Dobey, and sat up. “Can’t breathe,” he moaned.

  “That’s even better,” said Melton, and shot him in the eye.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I’ve been hurt worse than this, and never was sent to Atlanta. It’s just a stab wound. Melton was stabbed too, and he’s not here.”

  “Melton didn’t take an Arkansas Toothpick all the way through his side, Dobey.” Captain Hunter grimaced as the ambulance wagon bounced over the railroad tracks. “Bayonet was in his thigh, and it didn’t fester. Yours did.”

  “That’s just so much horse droppings, and you know it. I poured whiskey on it, and it cleared up on the train ride here.”

  Hunter was quiet for a moment. “All right. I ast the colonel to send you with me, to keep ‘em from taking my leg. I been dosing it with whiskey too, but I don’t trust ‘em. All’s they know is cut, cut, cut.”

  Jeff Jones suddenly sat up. The .44 Henry bullet that broke his jaw also took out three lower teeth. The fall into the moat broke a leg. He had been unconscious for most of the last three days, mainly from the two bottles of brandy that Melton put in his musette bag. “Got to loothen thith up.” He pulled at his bandages. “Can’t talk wuth a damn.”

  “You couldn’t talk worth a damn before you was shot. There’s the outside chance that folks will be able to understand you now.” Hunter grinned, and Dobey nodded agreement. “Ain’t no chance your mouth is infected.”

  ***

  The hospital was overflowing. Since Dobey didn’t want to be there anyhow, he made a financial arrangement with the chief orderly. Melton had given Dobey two hundred dollars, “donated” by the prisoners at Fort Pillow. Dobey paid the orderly thirty dollars to let him check in every day, but stay elsewhere. For another ten, the orderly was to take special care of Jones and Hunter.

  “You notice I didn’t try to negotiate you down,” Dobey said to the old sergeant. When the orderly nodded, Dobey added, “That’s because I want your help to be willing

  and full. And there’s one other small qualifier. If Captain Hunter loses that leg without my prior approval, you will lose one of yours. So will the cutter.”

  The old sergeant smiled condescendingly, expectantly, waiting for Dobey’s ‘just joking, of course.’ When that wasn’t forthcoming, his look turned to one of consternation.

  Captain Hunter, pleasantly drunk, said, “He’s very serious.”

  Dobey unwrapped his bedroll, taking out the Henry rifle and slipping on his shoulder holster and short Colt. He pulled his jacket over it, slung the Henry, and said, “See you tomorrow.”

  ***

  “Where to stay? I dunno, sir.” The young orderly scratched his head. “I heard some officers say to a cabbie they was going to ‘Shadow Blank’ or something like that. Cabbies’ll probably know.”

  There were no cabs in sight. It was raining, of course, but mid-April wasn’t too cold. Dobey slung the Henry upside down, pulled up his collar, and started walking. After a mile, thoroughly soaked, he came to a tavern. Halfway through a rum, honey, and water, he asked the owner if he had a room.

  “Ain’t no room at the inn, son. Whole town is full.”

  “What about this Hotel Shadow Blank?”

  The tavern owner mulled that for a second, then exploded in laughter. “You mean the Chateau Blanc. You got plenty of money, that would work. Second best whorehouse in Atlanta. The White House.”

  By the time Dobey finished his drink, it seemed like a positively wonderful idea.

  ***

  Madame Gloria Constance Marie Laval studied the young transient. An officer, well-spoken, scarred but still handsome, clean, soaking wet, but shaven, and no smell to him. Maybe twenty-five. Hard.

  In turn, she could tell that Dobey was appraising her. Red hair, burning green eyes, small waisted but buxom, almost as tall as himself. Maybe thirty-five. Hard.

  She decided. “All right. The room is thirty a week, U.S., in advance. The ladies are separate. We have no boys. You can drink all you want here, but if you make trouble, drunk or sober, you’re out. And no refunds. Denny—come in please.”

  A hulking bald man stepped in, stared at Dobey, and asked, “Yes ma’am?”

  “This is Lieutenant Walls, Denny. Texas horse soldier. He may be staying a while. May he keep his guns?”

  “Don’t matter none to me, Miz Laval.”

  “What if he cuts up?”

  “Then I’ll take ‘em away and make him eat them.” He spoke in a dull monotone.

  “Thank you, Denny.” As the huge man left, Laval raised an eyebrow to Dobey. “Deal?”

  Dobey grinned and said, “Here’s thirty. I’ll take your advice on companionship, unless …”

  “What?”

  “I suppose everyone asks for you. Is that a possibility?” His eyes bore into hers.

  “Not everyone is bold enough. But no. Before I established this house, I worked in one. I’ve had enough pizzle sticks to last a lifetime. Still, thanks for asking. I’ll send you a couple to look over. Will you eat here, too?”

  ***

  Steak. Potatoes. Gravy. Carrots, a hint of sugar. Bordeaux. Dobey looked up from his empty plate, shook his head, and said, “This can’t be happening.”

  Madame Laval smiled, and sat down. Dobey tried to get her chair, but was too sl
ow. “Sorry,” he muttered. He was surprised by her blush.

  “Some different from campaigning, eh?”

  “You don’t know.” Dobey looked up as Denny appeared from nowhere and placed a demitasse of coffee in front of the madame, then disappeared.

  “Where’d you find him?”

  “Denny? In the gutter.” She sipped her coffee.

  “A drunk, was he?”

  “No. In the gutter. Right out front. Used to be a cabby. Three provost officers disagreed with his price and beat him senseless with their shillelaghs.”

  “Their what?”

  “Nightsticks. Smarmy bastards near killed him. I saved him. He loves me. End of story.”

  “Why’d you save him? I mean, you see lots of stray dogs here.”

  Laval thought about that. “Not sure. Maybe because I hate the damned provosts so much myself. They come in, terrorize anyone who ain’t important, take what they want, and never pay. I hate them.”

  “I understand. Two of them tried to take my rifle on the way here yesterday.” He put his hand over hers. She pulled hers away.

  He did understand. When he was twelve, two older boys and a drunk soldier had taunted him into a fight that he really wanted to avoid, and then pounded him. His father had pounded the soldier, and both boys’ fathers.

  She asked, “How’d you handle them?”

  “Who?” Could she read his mind?

  “The provosts. Who else?”

  “I’m sorry. I was eight hundred miles away and fifteen years back in time. Well, I sort of suggested that they eat horse droppings and die.”

  She laughed, roaring like a man. She put her hand over his. He did not pull away. “No, really.” She stared at him.

  “Oh. Really. Well, I said, ‘Why don’t you just take it?’ They looked funny for a minute, then left.”

  “God, I wish I’d seen it.” She laughed some more.

  “Listen. I can’t get my friends out of that hospital. Can you get me two meals like this tomorrow, so I can take them some real food?”

  “Maybe eleven in the morning?”

  ***

  Dobey picked up the basket, and paid the cook two dollars. When Hunter and Jones opened it, they found the same meal Dobey had eaten, plus an apple pie, and soft bread. The old orderly heated up the steaks and potatoes in exchange for a slice of pie.

  “When you think we’ll get out of here, Lieutenant?”

  “Soon as y’all are healed. I’m ready to go.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  A doctor checked Dobey’s wound at mid afternoon, and pronounced it to be healing well. Dobey splashed some of Jones’ rum on it, before letting the old orderly re-dress it, and left for the White House before dark.

  Laval was in the kitchen when he returned the basket. Normally composed and in charge, she was nervously biting a nail. When he thanked her, she stared blankly at him, and asked, “For what?”

  He held up the basket. “The meals. My friends. Just what planet are you on right now?”

  “I’m so sorry. It’s those provosts. Colonel Fortson just left, and warned me they’re coming tonight. I have to keep Denny away from them or they may go after him again. Or cause me more trouble, for harboring him. It’s my problem, though,” she smiled suddenly, “and I should not let it bother paying guests.”

  “I don’t plan to let them bother me. Or you, for that matter.”

  “You are sweet. But best you just lay low. You happy with that Kathy, are you? She wasn’t too old?”

  “Oh, no—she was as good as you said. And she gave me a powder to stop the itching on this cut.”

  “Yes. She worked for a drug compounder before she came to me. Which means she has a couple of useful talents here. But she’s brought in a young relative, my most beautiful girl, whom I’ve named Bridget. You may want to try her tonight.”

  “Bridget?”

  “Yes. Very blond, very Swedish-looking, very young. You’d be doing me a favor. I want to keep her away from the rough trade, as much as possible. Kathy said you were strong, but not rough. Stay in with Miss Bridget tonight. Stay out of trouble. She’ll bring some food and wine.”

  “All right. I’ll pay for it, of course.”

  “You most certainly will.”

  “Can I get a hot bath first?”

  “Yes. How nice. I’ll have Old Bill and Just Bill bring the tub to your room and fill it.”

  ***

  The two slaves had his bath ready twenty minutes later, and left a brush, soap, towel, Bordeaux, and two glasses on a chair by the tub.

  Dobey undressed quickly, putting his Colt and money under the mattress and his Henry, knife, and shoulder holster under the bed. He folded his clothes on the other

  chair, and stepped gingerly into the tub, holding his privates against the scalding water.

  A half glass of wine later, he was dozing off when the door opened, and a fair-skinned blond girl of maybe eighteen years stepped in. She was very pretty, and very scared.

  “Lock it,” he said. “I didn’t expect you so soon. Haven’t finished my bath. Barely started, in fact. You must be Bridget.”

  “I am now. I got to get used to that.” She smiled nervously. “Can’t lock up, just yet. That house darky, Just Bill, is bringing us up some food in a minute. Miz Laval said to lock up when he leaves. You want some help with that bath?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do.” He smiled. “How’d you know that?”

  “Listen. I’m scared, but it ain’t of you. Miz Laval said to do whatever you wanted, that you wouldn’t hurt me none. But she said some mean men was coming tonight, and I was lucky to be taken up with you. You ain’t gonna let them have me, is you?”

  “No, Miss Bridget. Not tonight. Why don’t you get out of that dress and take this brush to my back, before this water cools off?”

  She did. In her undershift and pantaloons, she folded a throw rug by the tub and knelt on it. “What do I call you, sir?”

  “Name’s Dobey. How long you been at this particular occupation?”

  “All week.” She scrubbed furiously, trying to avoid his scars and his bandage.

  “Well, there’s no substitute for experience,” he said, deadpan. It flew over her head. “When that bandage gets soaked, it’ll come right off. We’ll put a little liquor on my cut, and you’ll dress it up again for me. The makings are up there on the dresser.”

  “Damn Yankee done this to you?”

  “Nope. One of our own, drunk as a skunk.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He didn’t make it.”

  The girl relaxed somewhat, and just as the bath began to get interesting, Just Bill arrived with their food. Noticing their blushing, he averted his eyes and hurried out.

  “Good thing he didn’t get here three minutes later.” She smiled coyly, and began to wash him again.

  “Maybe you’d better lock that door first.”

  She squeezed him, stood, and walked to the door. Before she reached it, it flew open. Three men walked in: a major and a lieutenant, both pudgy, in immaculate gray dress uniforms, and a hawk-faced sergeant in butternut.

  “Here she is. Just like we heard, too pretty to believe.” The major glanced at Dobey’s folded jacket. “And way too nice for a dog-assed cavalry lieutenant.” The girl started crying.

  “Hold on, there.” Dobey tried to stand. His feet slipped in the tub and he flopped back. He made it to his knees before the Provost sergeant clubbed him with his nightstick. He chipped a tooth on the edge of the tub, went under, and came up sputtering and dizzy. Blood and soap were in his eyes.

  “Oh. You probably already paid. Well, you can have her when we’re through. We’ll be right down the hall.”

  “We might be a while,” added the chubby lieutenant, dragging the girl out.

  “Might not be interested in what’s left,” the sergeant leered. “And we’ll just borrow this wine, too. Don’t do nothing stupid, Lieutenant, sir. You don’t want to sleep in my jail. Nossir
, you don’t.” Pointing a Colt at the stupefied Dobey, he backed out.

  Hands folded, bleeding from a cut above his eye, the slave Just Bill stood just inside the door. “I’m sorry, Master Dobey. They made me tell. Had to have that little golden girl. Miz Laval gwine to kill me.”

  Dobey wiped his face and eyes. “Maybe not.” He pulled on the shoulder holster, shirtless, stuck the sawed-off Colt in it, and grabbed the Henry. There were eight rounds left in it. “You go, right now, and see if there’s any more of them outside. Come straight back and tell me. I’ll be in their room. And tell Miz Laval to bring me another pistol.” He pulled on his boots.

  “She down. They bonked her on the head when she tried to stop ‘em.”

  “Throw water on her then, Goddammit. You bring me a pistol if she can’t. Hurry!”

  The screaming led him to the right door. He kicked it beside the handle. The frame splintered, and the door swung in. Bridget was face down on the bed, fighting and screaming, as two men held her and the third tried to tear off her shift. They all turned to face the intrusion.

  The two officers were outraged, and the sergeant reached for his pistol. Dobey shot him first. He went down like an empty sack. The lieutenant, kneeling beside Bridget, tried to unsnap his holster. Dobey shot him next, and he fell off the bed. The major released Bridget and stood, pointing a finger at Dobey. “You have no idea how much trouble …”

  Dobey thought, eventually he’ll go for his pistol. Dobey shot him in the chest. The .44 Henry rim-fire was essentially a big pistol bullet. Well placed, it would certainly kill, but it lacked knockdown power. The major staggered, began wheezing, and started pulling at his coat buttons.

  Dobey levered in a fourth round and shot him in the head. He fell backwards like an oak as Bridget scrambled off the bed and past Dobey into the hall.

  Dobey worked the Henry’s action again, and moved to his right until his sights covered the downed lieutenant, sitting in a fetal position on the far side of the bed. Dobey shot him in the side of the head, and he fell over.