Dixie's Land 10.3

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[Concluding chapter ten]

"There's two men," the madam told them. Laughter and the clink of glasses sounded discordant to Stewart. They had decided, driving back to the brothel, to keep the news of their grisly discovery to themselves, at least for the time being. It was making for a strange interview, because the madam still referred to Kathleen in the present tense. "The first is just another Irish bastard," she said. "A lout named Jimmy O'Driscoll who pulls taps at the Harp on Gravier near Poydras. He used to be one of her regulars when she worked for me. To be honest, I thought she was still seeing him."

"I've heard of him," Cleburne said. To Stewart he added, "Chap has friends in Corduroy Alley, if you follow me."

"Interesting," Stewart said. "What about the second man? Did he drive out Mr. O'Driscoll?"

"That's the thing surprised me," the woman said. "This other fellow's a looker. But it was O'Driscoll who introduced him to me—this would be about a week or so ago, I guess.” Around the time we first met Marie-Anne, Stewart thought. “They were looking for Kathleen, O'Driscoll said. And I couldn't figure out why, unless O'Driscoll had dropped her, or taken to pimping. Because the Yankee was so good looking, I couldn't see O'Driscoll wanting to put him in the same room as his woman."

Stewart felt a spark of hope. He had suspected the Federals; this might be the first shred of the proof he'd need to involve the authorities. "You're sure he was a Yankee?"

"Oh, yes. I know the way of talking. Sort of through the nose, don't you know. Rude, too—he looked as though he'd rather have his tongue cut out than talk to me. Imagine, the likes of him sneering at me like his shit don't stink. And he's looking for a whore just like all the others what come in here."

"Was he looking for a particular whore, then?" Cleburne asked.

"You'd think he'd be particular, what with his airs." The madam laughed at her joke. "But he wasn't looking for no one in specific, I guess. He just said he wanted a skinny blonde. It was O'Driscoll mentioned Kathleen."

"You know where we have to go next," Stewart said as they returned to Cleburne's carriage.

"Not tonight, boyo," Cleburne said, helping Marie-Anne in from one side as Stewart assisted Pauline from the other.

"You can't lose your nerve now, Cleburne."

"I don't think you understand, Captain," Pauline said. "Nobody in his right mind would go into a saloon in this part of town at this time of night to pick a fight with the bartender."

"I would," Stewart said.

"And they'd be taking you out in a box tomorrow morning," Cleburne said. "We can't just walk in there, even carrying pistols. O'Driscoll's got a shotgun under the bar, for sure. And if we could get to him, we'd never get out again. Think a minute, man. This calls for some planning. We know what the objective is, now. It's our job to achieve that objective with a minimum of risk."

"But every minute we wait is a minute Patton’s in danger!"

"Look, I haven't said anything about this so far tonight because I figured you had enough on your plate as it was," Cleburne said. His voice had dropped to a soft lilt, and Stewart knew what was coming. "But we can't even be sure that Patton is still alive. If the men who took him just wanted him dead, Stewart, then he's been dead for hours already. And if they want him for something else, he's going to be alive for a while."

Cleburne flicked the reins and the carriage started forward. "So let's take the ladies home and get some sleep. Tomorrow morning we'll pay a visit to the Harp. It'll surely be emptier then than it is now. And if I know my countrymen, O'Driscoll will be a lot less able to resist us tomorrow morning. Trust me, Stewart. I know these people."

"I see your point." Stewart stared at his hands, hoping he was doing the right thing by waiting. And feeling guilty, because part of him was pleased to agree to Cleburne's suggestion: he could, if he wished, spend the night with Pauline instead of in the stifling company of the men back at the hotel. Pauline made it clear by her expressions, and by the way she pressed against him in the carriage, that the thought had occurred to her as well.

In the end, Stewart decided that duty was more important. He felt no particular pride in this decision, though, as he climbed the stairs to his room.

Next    Chapter One     Chapter Two     Chapter Three    Chapter Four    Chapter Five    Chapter Six
Chapter Seven    Chapter Eight    Chapter Nine    Chapter Ten