Red Rock II Chapter 3:- Big Trouble in Baton Rouge( A USB Story by Rufusluciusivan and Stormtrooper1990)
Posted: Mon Aug 04, 2025 7:25 am
The Queen’s Nest, 20 miles West of New Orleans, Saturday 7th November 1884, 21:00pm
The Queen’s Nest was a dreadful sinister place that smelled of stagnant water and rotten wood. The derelict boat stood out in the middle of the bayou like some giant beast covered in moss. However, it also made for a fine hiding spot.
Nancy, Clinton, and Sand were waiting. Brett had instructed them to wait for him here. Nancy trusted the marshal, her father’s former partner, but they were still carefully hidden just in case. Maybe somebody else had seen and interpreted the message.
“Someone’s approaching.” Sand whispered. “Two people.”
Nancy frowned. “Who goes there?”
“That’s me, Nance. I came unarmed. But not alone. This young lady was quite adamant to tag along when she understood where I was going.”
Nancy recognized the voice.
Brett Stockton, marshal and former partner of her father.
And next to him, there was a familiar figure.
“Sylvié?”
“Miss Delacroix here found out I was in charge of the investigation. She managed to meet me before I left.” Brett glanced at the young maid. “I must say she’s quite the insightful lady… easily deduced where my true allegiance lies...”
Sylvié smiled thinly.
“When she discovered where I was going, she insisted on coming with me. And… let’s just say she refused to take no for an answer.” Brett looked at Sand. “I think you two will have a lot of things to say to each other.”
The young Navajo was at a loss for words – something that rarely happened to her. She simply nodded, noticing Sylvié had eyes for her and her only.
In fact, the French maid was the one who took the initiative. “I think your friend and the marshal also have things to say to each other.” She grabbed Sand’s hand. “Why don’t we leave them alone a bit?”
Sand nodded, and let herself be led away by Sylvié.
“I’ll see myself out too.” Clinton commented. He nodded at Brett.
The marshal nodded back. “Maybe we’ll have a word together later, young man.” His voice carried the kind of warning boys had learned to fear when they met the older relatives of their ladies.
Clinton also left.
For the first time in years, Nancy got a close look at her father’s former partner and best friend, a man she affectionately called ‘Uncle Brett’ even though they weren’t related by blood. He looked so different. He wasn’t even that old, but something in him appeared worn out.
“You’ve… grown…” the marshal finally commented.
Nancy couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re as bad at small talk as I remember…”
“I know. I- I’m sorry I wasn’t here more for you, Nance.”
“It’s fine, uncle. I know you have your own demons to face.” Nancy knew of his gambling addiction – and many debts. She knew it had started after her father’s death. “Besides, I wasn’t alone then. I had Uncle Wade and Aunt Agatha. And I’m not alone now.”
“Allow this old man to make amends nonetheless. I want to help you. DeBeers can parade around all he wants, I know he’s a slimy piece of shit. But he’s a piece of shit with many people on his payroll. As marshal I can make a move against him, but I’ll need solid evidence. Rock solid. Problem is… I can’t acquire those legally.”
“That’s where we step in.”
“If DeBeers falls, then all the rumors he spread fall with him. I’ll pull out as many strings as I need to discredit them.”
“Hopefully you have a plan.”
Brett nodded. “You've met Victoria.”
“Wish I didn’t.”
“She’s not a mere bounty hunter, Nance. She’s not even just a representative. She owns an estate. The Van der Laar plantation. The most productive of the whole State.”
“How?”
“Her husband died.”
“She did it?”
“It was a decade ago. Things were suspicious. She was accused of poisoning him. But her name’s been cleaned a few years ago. Officially, he died of natural causes.”
“Thanks to DeBeers and his money I bet.”
“Of course. He wanted a share of the estate, so he put Victoria in charge.”
“Sounds like a convenient place to hide shady deals…” Nancy nodded. “It’s a plan then. We’ll comb the place to find proof.”
Wayne put a hand on her shoulder. “Nance. You’ll have to be careful. You’ve seen how DeBeers and Victoria operate. They’ll make sure the people they send after you are clean - at least legally. The Van der Laar estate is no different. It has quite the reputation in Louisiana. A safe haven that serves as shelter for women who have nowhere to go and need a job. If you kill an innocent, even an armed innocent, I won’t be able to protect you.”
“No need to worry, Uncle. I’m a sheriff.” She adjusted her hat to emphasize her point.
And in that moment, Brett saw his old partner standing in front of him. “Your parents would be so proud of you.”
“I hope.”
“They would.” he insisted. “Never believe otherwise.”
“… Thank you, Uncle Brett.”
**************
Sand got a better look at Sylvié. The maid was dressed in traveling clothes – a sturdy coat over her dress, a woman’s hat, and strong comfortable boots. She was carrying a big case and a smaller handbag.
“It seems… almost unreal… Like some dream come true…” the young Navajo confessed. “Why are you here?”
“Because I wanted to follow you.”
"But what about your mistress? Eleanor? Will she not fear for your safety?"
Sylvié sighed gently and unfastened her cloak. "To be honest, Miss Eleanor never notices me or gives me a second glance. It's always "Dress me Sylvié!" Or "Sylvié pack my bags." Stuck up cow. Well she can pack her own bags now, I don't care anymore." She looked Sand in the eyes. “I quit.” And saying those two words made her happy.
“Following me is dangerous. I- I don’t want you to be hurt because of me.”
Sylvié smiled brightly. “You’re so adorable when you’re worried for me. But there’s nothing you can do. I made up my mind. If you want me to leave, you’ll have to tie me up in a sack.”
Sand didn’t know what to say anymore. A part of her wanted to embrace Sylvié here and now, a part of her wanted to say yes, and a part of her wanted to make her leave with the marshal and keep her safe.
Sylvié noticed her turmoil. “This is new for the both of us. Don’t worry. I’ll leave you some time to adjust. Later, we’ll have all the time in the world...”
Sand had never felt so scared and at the same time so excited.
**************
Brett couldn’t stay with them for long – Victoria and DeBeers would have gotten suspicious. He left them horses, supplies, weapons, and fresh clothes. Then, with one final good luck, and a promise to help them as much as he could, the marshal left them on their own. Sylvié refused to come with him, claiming once more they’d have to knock her out and carry her in a bag to New Orleans. Since they didn’t want to reach such extremes, they gave her a room in the Queen’s Nest.
Nancy and Clinton went to rest shortly after.
“Bastard DeVitt… He and his bitch got us good… Now we’ll have to fight them with the entire State after us…” She clenched her fingers, mimicking a strangling gesture. “You should’ve let me snap that bitch bounty hunter’s neck… How could she… talk to me like that…?”
Clinton put a hand on her shoulder. “Why are you so angry?”
His gentle touch calmed her instantly. “The baby.”
“It’s not the baby, and we both know it.”
Nancy groaned to herself, then finally confessed. “I did hurt these women, and others before them. It would be hypocritical to pretend otherwise. I tell myself the end justified the means, but on the other hand… Consequences are still here. And what if one day I accidentally kill one? Guess Victoria’s words stung...”
“And the very fact they did proves she’s wrong about you.” Clinton gently grabbed her thigh. “You don’t know Victoria like I do. That’s what she does. She worms her way into your weaknesses, and then keeps digging deeper and deeper until you snap.” He pulled her close to him. “You didn’t like hurting these women. You always acted to deliver justice to the worst outlaws, you never acted out of greed like Victoria. That’s what makes you better than anything she could ever hope of becoming. You do it because the alternative would be letting guys like McClaine or DeBeers have their way. We both saw how things are when guys like them are in charge. In the long run, you did so much good – including for the girls of Red Rock.”
“You sure have your way with words…” Suddenly, Nancy sat on his lap. “Mr O’Hara, you’re going to take off your clothes.”
“Here and now?”
“Here and now. We have some time to spare.”
“What about Sand?”
“Sand doesn’t mind. She has a beautiful French maid to occupy her thoughts. And I’ve seen how Sylvié looks at her. Trust me. I don’t think Sand will finish the night alone. I expect she’ll get a visitor soon – maybe she is already. Now, Mrs O’Hara requires you to do your marital duty.”
**************
Sand smiled sitting on the bed, checking their rations as she heard her friends giggling in the next room before the sounds gave way to the intense sound of passionate love making. The young Navajo then found her thoughts turning unbidden to Sylvié. She put herself back in that room, admiring the maids’ sweet beautiful pale pink face and long silken chestnut brown hair, caressing her small but supple breasts. Her slim pleasing figure, slender hips that supported a pert peach shaped rear and small trimmed womanhood. Subconsciously, Sand reached down her pants, fingers brushing her own vagina.
Suddenly a small knock came from the door. Taking her hand away from her sex, Sand picked up her tomahawk just in case, before opening the door.
"Sylvié?" The Navajo breathed, putting her weapon down on the floor, as she beheld the beautiful face of the maid who haunted her thoughts.
"My brave, pretty Rushing Sand. I’ve been waiting all night for the opportunity to talk to you alone!" the maid said her melodious accent made Sand's heart melt. “May I come in?”
Sand let her. The sounds of love-making coming from the other room didn’t bother the maid.
“Sylvié. I’ve been talking about this with Nancy and Clint. It’s not safe for you to hang out with us. If anything were to happen to you…” Sand found herself with tears welling in her mismatched eyes, she felt strange she had never shed tears before.
The cute maid smiled gently caressing the Navajo's face eliciting a gasp from the usually stoic native. "Sweet Sand. The fact that you care enough to say that fills me with joy!"
Sand gently took the French maid’s hand kissing it. “I’ve been thinking about you, Sylvié. Ever since the casino and well maybe even before then."
The young maid squeezed Sand's hand. "I understand, Sand. Ever since the day we met, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind… I know we have a connection. I want to know… I want to know if… if you…" Her voice trailed off, husky with desire. Her lips were leaning closer and closer, brushing Sand’s.
"I think I already do, my sweet Sylvié." Sand declared before impulsively kissing the maid’s warm inviting lips passionately, her heart skipping a beat as it was returned. Sylvié wrapped her arms around Sand’s back, tightly pulling her against her.
Their first kiss was long – very clumsy, but earnest and passionate.
Then Sylvié broke off their embrace. Her cheeks were red, and she was feeling emboldened by Sand’s kiss. Giggling, the maid pulled back, beginning to strip off her clothes.
"Wait!" Sand held up her hand, Sylvié blinking in confusion as she stopped halfway unlacing her apron. "I-I want you to see me. All of me first. It just feels right."
Sylvié stopped, nodding in understanding and smiling as she watched Sand strip completely naked in front of her. The young maid was getting aroused at the sight of Sands’ tanned athletic body standing before her in the candle light. Well rounded supple breasts with puffy dark brown areolas glistening in the low light, full clean shaven womanhood and pert plum shaped buttocks.
Sylvié gasped as her hands touched and fondled the Navajo's breasts and buttocks, Sand moaning in arousal she couldn't contain. "Beautiful. T-there is no other word to describe you, now you will see me for the third time.”
Sand smiled, her breasts perking up at the sight of Sylvié stripping off each article of clothing before she stood before the young navajo, completely naked. With the body of a goddess.
Embracing the naked Sylvié, Sand hesitated looking down. "Sand what's the matter?" The french woman said gently tilting her head up.
"I-I haven't done anything like this before. Not with a man or woman. What if I fail to please you?"
Sylvié just smiled, fingers caressing the Navajo's face. "Neither have I, ma cherie. But I'm willing to go on this journey with you, together. Just promise me one thing..." she mischievously smiled grabbing a handful of Sand's ass, Sand gasping erotically. "...promise me you won't steal my clothes and leave me tied to the bed." She winked. “At least not for our first time…”
Both women burst out laughing as Sand pulled their naked bodies onto the bed.
The two young women explored each other with tender kisses and playful touches before giving into sheer carnal bliss, their bodies lustfully intertwined.
Baton Rouge, LA, Sunday 8th November 1884, 09:00am
Baton Rouge. State Capital of Louisiana. Necessary stopping place to resupply during their journey on horseback to the Van der Laar Estate. Also known for its inhabitants who were a peculiar combination of trigger-happy and dumb-as-a-brick.
The second Nancy and her friends entered town, they realized that place would be trouble.
The signs were unmistakable. Too much noise, too much excitement. Too many armed people roaming the streets. Someone was assembling a militia.
On the walls of many buildings, there were the same Wanted posters as in New Orleans. Other posters were calls for volunteers to join a militia to capture the ‘dangerous criminals roaming free’. All documents had the seal of the DeBeers Company.
No need to be a genius to deduce that this troop of volunteers was being gathered to hunt down Nancy and her friends.
Thankfully, their hats and cloaks were concealing their identities. They were on horse and not on foot – which also didn’t match the posters' description, as they mentioned they would probably use the railroad. Plus, Sylvié’s presence with them was deflecting suspicion – the Wanted posters mentioned a group of three people, not four, and none of them matched Sylvié’s description.
Clinton grabbed one of the posters requesting volunteers for the manhunting party. He gave it a quick read.
“DeBeers sent four of his personal enforcers to rally a militia, and comb the region to find us.” he announced to the others.
Nancy muttered a curse. “We can’t exactly travel to the Van der Laar Estate with a small army after our hides.”
“Thank God the marshal lent us horses!” Sylvié commented. “Had we been on foot, we’d have arrived after the militia was assembled…”
“True. I don’t see how we’d have slipped through the fence had it come to that…”
“You think we can lose them?”
Nancy shook her head. “Even if we do, they’ll be breathing down our necks until we leave Louisiana. We already have to worry about Victoria. We should try and do something about them.”
“This kind of flock needs leaders. Maybe we should cut the heads of the snake.” Sand proposed.
“We won’t kill innocent people – even if they work for DeBeers.” Nancy interrupted her.
Clinton read the poster a second time. “Then maybe you’ll want to check the names.”
Intrigued, the redhead complied. Her eyes widened. “No way!” The names were indeed familiar – at least for a sheriff of the Arizona Territory – since the four DeBeers enforcers were actually wanted criminals there.
Elliott Bell. Wanted for the robbery and murder of a whole family of farmers – children included.
Charles Fish. Wanted for eight cases of rape – and those were the ones for which he had been identified. Nancy suspected there were even more victims.
Doris McFarlane. Wanted for a dozen murders – the most notorious being three long range shootings of cattle barons. Deadly sharpshooter. Known for her sadistic impulses and hatred of men.
Averell James. Wanted for several coach robberies. Infamous for killing all the travelers after they had given him their money, to leave no witnesses.
“I know these guys! They’re all outlaws!”
“Pretty bold of DeBeers.” Sand dryly commented. "Or maybe pretty stupid."
“They’re not wanted here. Nor are they in the neighboring States. They’re from Arizona. That’s how I know about them – unless you’re from here, you can’t possibly have heard about them.” Nancy explained. “Some of them were even associates of McClaine for a while… Must explain why DeBeers is still employing them… I stopped hearing about them soon after McClaine’s death. Guess that’s where they went.” The redhead suddenly smiled harshly to herself – it was a predatory grin. “Very obliging of Maximilian. He makes things easier.”
“How so?” Sylvié asked.
“We won’t kill innocent people working for DeBeers. Even armed innocents and guards.” Nancy stated. “But these four are no innocents. We get rid of them, and the whole militia will be disorganized. Escaping them will then be child's play!”
“Still, it’s best to not make the deaths too obvious.” Clinton intervened. “Technically, they’re not outlaws here. Your marshal will have a hard time covering things up for us if there are obvious murders.”
Nancy shrugged. “Of course. Accidents do happen.”
09:35am
Tracking down the moves of the four DeBeers enforcers proved to be the easy part of the task. Their whereabouts were basically public knowledge.
Elliott Bell was currently resting in the field hospital the DeBeers Company had mounted for the militia next to the city – he had apparently been wounded during a drill earlier today. Doris McFarlane was inspecting some recruits in front of one church – and according to the gossips she was also ogling the women in arms showing up to enlist. Charles Fish was in the brothel – Nancy shuddered at the idea of a monster like him in such a place. Finally, Averell James was in the corral – trying to show off by taming a wild bull.
However, reaching them would prove to be harder. While Nancy and her companions hadn’t been identified yet, their group couldn’t exactly walk openly in those locations. Better not push their luck and go incognito…
Or, more accurately, go in disguise.
“Once we begin mugging people for their outfits, we’ll only have a few hours before we have to skip town. We will split up to be more efficient. I’ll go after Bell. Sand, you deal with Charles. Clint, you take care of Averell.” Nancy proposed. “Sylvié. It’s best if you tag along with one of us.”
The former maid nodded, and wrapped an arm around one of Sand’s.
“Guess that settles it.” Nancy commented. “Sand, Sylvié, and I will regroup once we’ve taken care of our targets, and we’ll deal with Doris.” She showed her companions a location on a map of the area. It was an abandoned barn on the outskirts of the city. “We’ll regroup there after we're done. Any questions?”
The others shook their heads.
“Then let’s do it.”
The Queen Bee Brothel, 09:45am
Among Baton Rouge’s brothels, the Queen Bee was the most prized at the moment. Big, fancy, built a bit apart from the city’s hustle and bustle. There were even trees and bushes of flowers around.
Concealed in bushes near the outhouses in the Queen Bee’s backyard, Sand and Sylvié were observing the area. Charles Fish was already inside. Sand now only needed a way in.
Said way in would be the first prostitute going to relieve herself in an outhouse...
The two hidden women observed through the leaves a few of the brothel’s girls come and go through the back entrance, but no suitable target walked close enough for Sand to grab her.
Hearing a few idle chats and giggles from a group of girls entering the brothel, Sand couldn’t fully hide her scorn.
“Don’t judge them too harshly. They’re women trying to survive in a world of men. Like you and I.” Sylvié whispered. “I’ve known girls like them. Servants who had to sell their bodies to make ends meet… or who had to get in their employer’s bed to keep their job.”
“Did you have to…?”
Sylvié shook her head. “No. I was lucky, in a way. Eleanor’s father was a fair employer – he never tried to take advantage of me or to cheat me off my wages. I just wish he hadn’t spoiled his daughter rotten-”
She stopped talking when she spotted the lone girl walking closer to their location. The woman was heading to the outhouse.
The prostitute was well-endowed, with big breasts, wide hips, dark brown hair, a light skin, and doe-like hazel brown eyes. She was wearing a pink dress adorned with white lace around the collar, the sleeves, and the bottom. The garment was fitted around the waist with a red piece of cloth. She was also wearing brown booties. Her haircut was shoulder-long ringlets. She was wearing a few jewels – earrings, choker, and bracelets. They looked shiny, but were clearly baubles.
Sand’s body tensed in anticipation.
Sylvié eyed her. “You- You won’t kill her, right?”
Sand shook her head. “I’ll make her sleep.” However, she didn’t try to lie about what she was going to do: “I may have to hurt her, but I’ll make it as painless as I can.”
Sylvié was a bit pale, but nodded. “I- I’ll watch the back.” She moved out of Sand’s sight.
The brown-haired prostitute walked next to the Navajo’s hiding spot, and grabbed the door of the outhouse.
Sand caught the girl and pulled her into the bushes. The busty brunette squeaked and flailed her arms, sending a few leaves and branches flying. Sand punched a very specific part of her skull. The girl let out a faint shriek, and her body went limp. She was knocked out cold. Sand nodded to herself. Quick and efficient. The girl would have a bruise and a sore head after waking up, but nothing else. Nancy and Sylvié would be pleased.
The young Navajo wasted no time stripping the brown-haired prostitute naked: she removed all the girl’s jewels, the cloth sash tied around her waist, the booties, and the dress, then she also took off the frilly white-lace-adorned light pink petticoat the woman used as underclothes, exposing her ample breasts, with puffy dark pink roundel shaped areolas, small womanhood topped with a large trimmed triangle of dark brown fuzz and supple bubble butt.
Sand stripped off her own outfit, bound the brunette’s limbs with the rope she had been keeping tied on her belt to play the part of a ranch hand, and gagged the girl with her discarded scarf. She then hid her victim and the remains of her former outfit in the bushes, and slipped into the petticoat, dress, and booties. Finally, she wrapped the sash around her waist, and put on the jewels.
“Sand, you’re done?” a voice whispered in her back.
“Yes.”
Sylvié approached her. “Wow. Those clothes suit you. For someone who doesn’t like women’s clothes, you surely-” She interrupted herself, and glared at the unconscious bound woman half-hidden in the bushes. “You- You stripped her naked?”
Sand frowned. “Yes.”
“You do that to every girl you meet?”
“Yes. Why?”
Sylvié grimaced. “Oh! So I’m just another one…” she muttered to herself. There was a mixture of bitterness and pain in her voice. “Of course I am… What was I thinking…? Stupid of me to believe otherwise…”
“What’s taking you all of a sudden?” Sand turned to take her hand.
“Don’t-” Sylvié moved out of her reach. “I- I need some space… I’m sorry…” She left without giving Sand the time to answer something.
The young Navajo hesitated. She was feeling deeply confused and hurt by her lover’s sudden mood shift. What had happened? She didn’t quite understand the maid’s reaction. Sand contemplated running after her, but she knew it would jeopardize her mission.
The woman at her feet began to moan and stir, putting an end to her thoughts. Sand swiftly wrapped her arms around the prostitute’s neck, and squeezed to put her back to sleep. Once the naked woman was unconscious again, Sand concealed her further into the bushes.
The young Navajo decided she would deal with Charles Fish first. Nancy was counting on her! Then she’d find Sylvié.
**************
Infiltrating the brothel proved to be quite easy – almost disgustingly easy. Even with her mind preoccupied by her quarrel with Sylvié, Sand managed to avoid any undue attention. She headed straight to the pantry, intending to grab a bottle of whiskey.
However, there was already someone inside – another girl of the brothel, busy sorting alcohol bottles on a shelf. She was quite cute – though not as curvy as the brunette Sand had mugged – with a heart-shaped face, healthy white skin, dove-like blue eyes, and curly auburn hair tied into a loose bun.
“Hello. I’m the new girl.” Sand announced.
A basic deception, but the simplest lies were often the most effective.
The auburn-haired young woman glanced at Sand. Her eyes briefly lingered on the Navajo’s mismatched eyes.
“Okay. Name’s Jane. What’s yours?”
“Manuela.” Sand figured out she could pass herself as Mexican – it was best than to reveal she was a Navajo.
Jane nodded to herself. “You need something?”
“Charles Fish requested a bottle of whiskey.”
“They’re over there.”
“And his room is…” Sand trailed off, pretending to have a memory lapse.
“First floor. Last door on the left.”
“Thank you.”
She noticed Jane was scratching her chin.
“Funny. Your dress looks a bit like Kathy’s…” the girl muttered to herself.
She didn’t add anything. Sand punched her in the stomach to cut her breath, then knocked her out by hitting her neck with the edge of her hand. Jane groaned, instantly losing consciousness. Sand grabbed her falling body by the stomach so that she wouldn’t make any noise when falling. Letting out one long breath, Sand listened carefully. No sound of alarm. Nobody had heard the brief scuffle.
Sand then eased the unconscious woman onto the floor, cut a few strips of Jane’s green dress, and used them to bind the young woman’s limbs and to gag her. She found an empty barrel in a corner of the pantry, and stashed the prostitute there.
There was nothing personal. The second Jane had begun to question Sand’s story, her fate was sealed. She’d now have to spend a few hours concealed inside that barrel.
Satisfied Jane wouldn’t blow her cover, Sand went to the shelf, grabbed the bottle of whiskey, and poisoned it. Then she followed the girl’s instructions and went to Charles Fish’s bedroom.
The target was sitting on his bed. He was actually quite handsome – while she was into women, Sand had listened to enough conversations to know which type most settler girls fancied. But Sand only needed to remember the eight cases of rape to see the monster hiding behind the charming facade.
“I didn’t ask for a Greaser, girl. I have standards.” Charles commented, mistaking her for a Mexican girl. His harsh words were offering a stark contrast with his angelic appearance.
Sand was already in turmoil because of her quarrel with Sylvié. And seeing the rapist in the flesh, reminding her of her own father… and hearing that filth having the galls to claim he had standards… that made something snap in her.
The plan was to poison his drink. Sand forgot the plan.
She didn’t bother with a witty reply or one-liner. Nancy might have. But Sand wasn’t Nancy. And Sand was beyond furious.
She didn’t scream – she was still a Navajo scout, and she knew when stealth was essential. She simply rushed forward.
Charles realized the danger – but too late. When he opened his mouth to call for help, Sand was on him. She punched him in the stomach to silence him, then moved behind him, and wrapped an arm around his throat. One hard torsion, and she snapped his neck.
“A rapist with standards… You’ve got to be kidding me…” the young woman finally spat as she dropped the corpse away.
Sand used the bedsheets as makeshift ropes, and hung the body to the ceiling. She was confident nobody would question why a hung man had his neck snapped. She emptied some of the whiskey on him, to make sure he’d reek of alcohol, and smashed the bottle onto the floor – therefore nobody would find out it was poisoned. Then she threw a chair under his feet, to make it look like he had hung himself.
Once the fake proof was planted, Sand discreetly sneaked out of the building.
She needed to regroup with Nancy.
She needed to talk with her friend.
DeBeers Company Field Hospital, The Same Moment
Employees, nurses, and doctors working for the DeBeers company had mounted their field hospital next to Baton Rouge. It consisted of several tents in a circle.
Using the cover of tall grasses, Nancy approached the location by walking crouched down. She discreetly cut a small hole through the fabric of the farmost tent, and crawled inside. She was in a secondary part of the field hospital. There were a few beds, and a cabinet with medicine at the other side. Some crates were lying in a corner.
Nancy ducked and hid behind one field bed when she heard some noise.
She discreetly took a peak, and noticed a lone nurse wearing brown boots, a long one-piece black dress with a white apron, and a frilly white nurse bonnet. She was a cute young woman with strawberry blond hair, dove-like blue eyes, a soft light skin, and a heart-shaped face. Her figure was slim, with an attractive curvy bottom. Her hair was tied up into a tight bun on her neck.
The nurse was sorting through the medical furniture of the cabinet, humming a merry little tune to herself.
Assessing the woman’s size, Nancy noticed her clothes would fit her. She suspected the cabinet was filled with many potentially lethal drugs. She had all she needed at hand to make it look like Elliott Bell suffered a fatal medical error.
First step, borrow the clothes of this nurse…
As discreet as a cat on the hunt, Nancy approached the strawberry blonde from behind. The nurse, oblivious of the danger, kept humming and sorting through the bottles. Nancy saw her fill a syringe with a dose of laudanum big enough to make someone sleep for hours, then put it on a tray, taking the time to grab some bandages.
The redhead smiled to herself. Thank you for your cooperation. You’re a sweetheart, making things easier for me...
Nancy made her move. She pounced on the nurse from behind, gagged her with her right hand, and with her left hand she grabbed the syringe filled with laudanum and jabbed it in-between the woman’s neck and shoulder. The nurse struggled and moaned for help, but the hand-gag muffled her cries. Nancy injected her with the sleeping drug. The struggles were brief.
When the limp body slumped into her arms, Nancy dragged the nurse by the undershoulders in-between two beds, laid her onto the ground, and crouched next to her. She stripped the woman off her boots, bonnet, apron, and long dress, leaving the nurse clad in her undergarments. The blonde was wearing white silk drawers with a leaf-and-flower pattern. To cover her breasts, the nurse was using one of those 'corset substitutes' patented in 1859 by Henry S. Lesher of New York: one that was combining shoulder straps, breast pads and armpit shields. A pretty rare and expensive device in these parts.
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Nancy raised an eyebrow at the fancy choice of underwear – and out of curiosity she checked the blond nurse’s hand. She discovered a brand new wedding ring.
“Guess that explains why you looked so happy.” the redhead mused. “Only the best for your man, uh? I can relate to that.”
Nancy swiftly stripped herself down to her own underwear, and put on the nurse’s uniform. She also removed the woman’s hair pins. The nurse’s hair fell on her shoulders. She copied the woman’s neck bun, and used the nurse’s bonnet to hide her hair.
Then, she lifted the unresponsive body of the deeply asleep strawberry blond woman, and laid her onto one of the beds. She covered her from toe to head with a sheet, to conceal her by making it look like a sick patient was resting.
Nancy considered binding and gagging the woman. She knew enough of the properties of laudanum to calculate the nurse would sleep for the next three hours – maybe four if she was lucky. So she decided against it. She trusted Sand had already finished the job with her mark, and she wouldn’t need much time to get rid of her own either. Then three hours would be more than enough to deal with their final target. And if somebody found out about the nurse earlier… Then her being asleep or bound-and-gagged wouldn’t change anything.
Nancy hid her former clothes under the bed in which the nurse was concealed, then adjusted her new outfit and hid her revolver under the dress. She grabbed the syringe she had used to knock the nurse out and the bottle of laudanum. This time, however, she filled it with a lethal dose of drug.
She grabbed a tray and a few pieces of medical furniture to perfect her disguise, but was interrupted by the arrival of another nurse.
This one was a brown-haired woman with green eyes, around the same age as the blonde sound asleep and concealed under the sheets, with her hair tied up into the same bun. The newcomer entered the tent like a storm, without even taking a good glance at Nancy, and went to fetch something in a crate.
Nancy quickly pretended to be busy sorting through the furniture of the cabinet, as it gave her an excuse to prevent the other nurse from getting a good look at her face.
The brown-haired nurse began to speak: “Lottie! I swear to God, this must be the worst hunting party I’ve ever seen! Have you heard the news? Billy just shot himself in the foot trying to show off!”
“Uh-uh.” Nancy muttered in assent while still pretending to fidget through the furniture – she suspected all the nurses knew each other, so she couldn’t risk speaking out loud. If she did, the brown-haired nurse wouldn’t recognize her voice, and would discover she was an impostor.
“These morons are lucky they have numbers on their side! Had it not been for that, I can’t see them catching a donkey! Most can’t wipe their nose without someone holding their hand! Thank God DeBeers sent a couple of supervisors!”
“Uh-uh.”
“Anyway, you can take a break. I already gave Billy his laudanum. I’ll stay here. Not like there is anything to do. Unless some other idiot attempts to upstage Billy...”
Nancy took note of the information… and discreetly grabbed another syringe, a clean one. She filled it with a normal dose of laudanum – one that would make the brown-haired nurse sleep three or four hours just like Lottie.
“The other girls said Billy wanted to impress me, but if this guy really wants my hand, he’s not going to win me by waving his gun and-mphhghh?!” the nurse let out a muffled squeak when Nancy hand-gagged her. She injected her with the laudanum to put her to sleep.
“Thanks for telling me nobody but you will visit this tent for the next couple of hours. Nothing personal, I just need you out of the picture.”
The struggles of the brown-haired nurse lasted a bit longer than Lottie’s, but ultimately she also succumbed to the effect of the soporific drug. When the brunette was sound asleep, Nancy dragged her into the bed next to Lottie’s, and also concealed her under the sheets.
The idea of assaulting two nurses didn’t have much appeal to her, she respected the nobility of their mission. However, on the other hand, she reasoned that at least these two would sleep through the events in a safe place. If the people of Baton Rouge were as clumsy as they were trigger-happy, then it was best to be out of sight when the corpses would be discovered.
Nancy grabbed her tray, and the syringe filled with the lethal dose of laudanum, then went to the tent in which her mark was resting. She didn’t encounter another nurse – maybe Lottie and her brown-haired friend were the only ones in the field hospital right now.
As a personal enforcer of DeBeers, Elliott had requested an entire tent for himself. It said a lot about his ego, but Nancy didn’t complain. It would make her job easier.
The guy was resting on his bed. He frowned when he saw Nancy, but was fooled by her outfit.
“I didn’t request a nurse, girlie.” he barked.
“Elliott Bell, isn’t it? Heard you murdered an entire family of farmers – down to the youngest child.”
The man’s eyes widened. He attempted to get up. “Who told you-”
He had betrayed his identity. Nancy hit him in the throat with her fingers – a blow strong enough to cut his breath, but one that would not leave an obvious mark on the body. Then she injected him with the deadly dose of laudanum, jabbing her syringe in his neck.
“Trust me. It’s quicker than the rope.”
She blocked him onto the bed, and watched his body spasm as the highly-concentrated drug took effect. She let go of him when he lost consciousness and couldn’t scream anymore. Nancy didn’t stick around to see him draw his last breath – she knew the dose she had injected him would kill a horse.
Nobody paid attention to the red-haired busy-looking nurse exiting the field hospital.
And one less to worry about...
Near St Mary's Church, 10:02am
Nancy was the first to arrive at the meeting point near the church. From what she had heard, Averell was still alive and Clinton was still in the corral, but she trusted him. Therefore, she focused on the fourth target – Doris McFarlane - and waited for her companions.
When Sand regrouped with Nancy, the latter was surprised to see her friend was alone.
“Where is Sylvié?”
Sand grimaced. She was feeling dejected. “She left.”
Nancy frowned. “Left?”
“We had a fight.” Sand was, as always, a woman of few words. But they were unusually emotional.
The redhead took her friend's arm. “What happened? Did something go wrong at the brothel?”
“No. I got the target. And I- I didn’t kill the girl. Just knocked her out, like always. But when Sylvié saw her, she just… stormed off.”
Nancy pondered briefly. “Was the other woman naked?”
“Of course. You know I steal everything.”
“Did you explain yourself?”
“She didn’t give me the time. I don’t understand her reaction.”
“You must try.” Nancy put a hand on her shoulder, and attempted to find the right words. “Listen. Sylvié was a servant. All her life, she’s been treated as an inferior. Then she met you. For the first time, she felt important. She felt she was someone. But when she saw you with that naked girl, she thought she meant nothing to you.”
“But she does! She’s my shikeyáh!”
“Then tell her! She thinks she’s not good enough for you. Not good enough for anyone. She thinks she’s worth nothing – that’s what people have been telling her all her life.”
“Then people are either blind or stupid.”
“Most of them are rich fat cats, so they probably are.” Nancy took her hand. “Come on. Let's find out where she went. You’ll sort out everything with her, then we’ll deal with Doris.”
**************
It didn't take them long to find her.
Near the entrance of the town, in the main street, Sylvié was sitting on an empty cattle trough, deeply lost in her thoughts.
However, the street wasn’t empty. A large group of armed people – most of them women – were walking the town. They were led by familiar faces – one friendly and one most unfriendly.
Brett and Victoria.
“Of course she’d show up…” Nancy bitterly commented. She grabbed Sand, and forced her to remain concealed behind a fence.
“Let me go! I won’t let them harm-”
“Brett is here! There are dozens of gunslingers!” Nancy warned her. “Sand, you have to trust her.”
Sand growled. “If that snake hurts her, I'll blast her head off!”
Sylvié noticed the newcomers too late, and was smart enough to not try and leave. It would have looked suspicious. Ever so briefly, her face betrayed her fear, but she worked to hide her emotion.
Victoria’s eyes fell on the former maid. She composed herself a huge smile. “Well, well, well, well, well… How the stars align…”
Sylvié feigned surprise. “Uh… Hello? Have we met?”
“Not personally. But I know your mistress. You’re the French maid. Why are you not with Eleanor?”
“I quit my job.”
“Right after you were robbed and left naked by these criminals…? And now I’m finding you here, the town where they’re the most likely to be found… Amusing coincidence…”
Victoria’s tone clearly hinted she did not think it was a coincidence. There was a short beat. Sylvié had to hide her nervousness. She clutched her hands on her apron to prevent them from shaking.
“I didn’t see them. But if I did, I’d gladly report them to proper law enforcement.” Sylvié lied. “Besides, I heard them talking when they were ambushing me. They said their plan was to leave Louisiana and cross the border with Mississippi.”
Nancy felt Sand relax slightly in her grip. Sylvié had just lied to law enforcement for them – for her. She didn’t need a better proof of how much the French maid cared for her, lovers quarrel or not.
“And I’m quite sure changing Eleanor’s chamber pot and cleaning her doilies gave you a good understanding of manhunts…” Victoria commented. Her posse of gunwomen shared a good laugh.
“Last time I checked, traveling alone isn’t illegal, Victoria.” Brett intervened. He tipped off his hat to Sylvié, pretending to not know her. “Young lady, you’re free to go. And be wary of outlaws.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll try and find proper company.”
Sylvié turned away. As fast as a rattlesnake, Victoria blocked her path. She was still all smiles, but her eyes were cold. The French maid recoiled slightly in surprise.
Nancy now had to physically restrain Sand. “Trust Brett, please…” she whispered.
“Victoria. You’re out of line.” the marshal intervened. His voice was soft, but still carried a warning.
“Just doing my Christian duty, sir.” Victoria pulled out a huge roll of bills. “Traveling alone is not illegal, but a woman on her own is easy prey.” She shook her head. “I wanna help. Miss Maid… Ever heard of the Van der Laar estate?”
Sylvié briefly hesitated. Was it a trap? Did Victoria know about their plan? “No.”
“It’s a plantation, run by women for women. My sister just happens to manage the place. I could put in a good word for you.” She waved the bills under Sylvié’s nose. “And give you something to start a new life...”
Sylvié glared at the money. It was enough to cover her expenses for a couple of years.
Then she moved Victoria’s hand away. “Please step aside. Or I’ll have to scream.”
“As you wish.”
Victoria complied, Sylvié walked past her.
The bounty huntress scratched her chin, and turned to her second-in-command. “Hey Mary, you know what they call a lady-in-waiting without a lady?”
“No boss.”
Victoria’s eyes glimmered. “A whore-in-the-making.” She relished her hurtful jab. The other gunwomen laughed cruelly.
Sylvié froze briefly, then held her head high and left without dignifying the bounty hunter with an answer.
Victoria glared at Sylvié’s back while she was leaving. Her fake-sugary smile was gone. Her face was now cold and calculating.
Brett walked next to her. "That was uncalled for, Victoria."
“She’s hiding something. She deserved worst. And if I didn’t know you better I’d think you’re trying to stall us, old man.” she retorted with a sideways glance.
Nancy frowned. Victoria’s attitude had changed. No more theatrics. The bounty hunter was being herself. And she was on a nickname basis with Brett…
“Just making sure you play by the rules.”
The bounty hunter snorted. “Right… The rules…”
“What? No witty remark?”
“Why? There’s no audience. Besides, you should know better than to help your little sheriff. She’s a real outlaw now.”
“You said it yourself Victoria. There’s no audience. Stop pretending.”
The bounty hunter chuckled, but it was a bitter empty sound. No bombastic line, no larger-than-life smile. Nancy sensed she was seeing the real Victoria for the first time.
“That’s the funny thing, old man. I don’t even need to pretend. I barely need to embellish the truth a little. I’m starting to dig up interesting things… New Orleans wasn’t her first stunt – Eleanor and her maid weren’t either one year ago. Still trying to figure out why nobody signaled her though. Guess she really takes advantage of her status...”
“Don’t try to drag her down to your level.”
“You’re one to talk, old man. How are your gambling debts again? Being a marshal is pretty neat to intimidate your creditors into giving you more time to pay up. So don’t lecture me. The world is an ugly bitter place. There’s no such thing as an honest man. Your precious little sheriff isn’t different. Everybody just keeps… playing a role.”
“Like you’re playing the role of the innocent widow?”
“IF – and I’m saying IF – I did kill Vaclav – which I didn’t of course – then I’d only have done what your precious little sheriff pretends she does. I’d have dispensed justice.”
“For what?”
“Child murder.”
Nancy frowned from her hiding spot. Once again, Victoria’s weird tic of clutching her stomach.
Brett glared at Victoria.
The latter ignored his gaze. She pulled out her pocket watch, checked time, and calculated her next move.
“But haven’t we already discussed the topic, old man?” she finally commented. “Law doesn’t care about your reasons, only the consequences of your actions. Speaking of which...” She closed her watch and waved her hand. “My girls and I will comb this town. If they’re here, I anticipate they’ll have left a trail of naked girls by now.” Answering her signal, her posse gathered around her. “Girls! Clint is worth ten dollars. The Indian girl, twenty. And if any of you get the little sheriff… You win a bottle of the Company’s finest bourbon! Remember: five gunslingers are a threat, but one is an opportunity. Move in big groups, cover your blind spots, and never split up.”
Nancy and Sand watched as the posse split up into a few groups – small enough to cover a lot of ground, but big enough to prevent an ambush from a duo of disguised women.
Nancy grimaced. “Change of plan, Sand. We can’t regroup with Sylvié right now. We have to hurry, and get rid of the fourth mark. Hopefully, Clint can deal with Averell by himself before Victoria finds out about him…”
“I can’t leave Sylvié on her own!”
“Sand. Look at her. She’s staying in public areas. You have to trust her. She’s smart. She knows Victoria can’t do anything to her in front of witnesses. She knows where to regroup with us later.”
Sand took a few seconds to calm herself. Her feelings were hard to sort out – she wasn’t used to being so emotional – but the pragmatic Navajo scout in her finally resurfaced. “You’re right. We’ll find a way to collect her once we’re done. Then we’ll talk things out.”
**************
One of Baton Rouge’s churches was under repair. Therefore, since it wasn’t currently used for cults, Doris was using it to interview the volunteer recruits. She didn’t dare do it inside the sacred building though – things were taking place in front of the main door. She’d often ask the recruits to try and shoot at targets on the wall nearby – and would always have something cruel to say about their skills. However, with the women, she was trying to show off – shooting at the targets with expert marksmanship.
“The bell hasn’t been fixed yet.” Nancy noticed. “I think I can easily stall for time, and trick her into standing where you can drop it on her.”
“Okay.”
Nancy noticed Sand was unusually unresponsive – no doubt she was preoccupied by Sylvié’s safety. The redhead therefore took the lead.
“We can’t stay dressed like that however. People will question a nurse and a prostitute showing up to enlist in the militia. We better change outfits, and quick.”
Nancy was confident they could intercept a couple of gunwomen wishing to enlist - and take their place and outfits. It took the two companions a little while, and a quick search of the area around the church, but then they found something of interest.
The two gunwomen in their line of sight were busy talking next to a poster on a fence, near the stables.
“So if I get it straight... Here we are looking for Indian loving swamp witches, Carol-Anne?” a black-haired white-skinned brown-eyed woman asked. She was wearing a black Stetson hat, a red-and-black long-sleeved plaid shirt, a cow waistcoat, a brown belt and a colt, light brown chaps, and black boots. Her hair was tied up into a loose neck bun.
“Yeah, so what's your point Eli?” her partner retorted. Carol-Anne was a tall green-eyed ginger with many freckles on her face. Her hair was tied up into a ponytail. She was wearing a brown Stetson hat, a beige duster coat, a blue-and-green plaid shirt with short sleeves, a black belt and a colt, dark brown cowboy chaps, and brown leather boots.
“Do we know what a swamp witch looks like?” Eli insisted.
“Didn't you see the wanted posters at the Sheriff's office? Mr DeBeers is offering a fortune for them.
“They looked like no swamp witches to me. They didn't have no pointy hats.”
Carol-Anne rolled her eyes. “Just stop your blathering. Pointy hats indeed, frickin' dumbass. Everyone knows they should have big noses, although that Clinton O'Hara looks mighty fine.”
Nancy eyed the two women’s body proportions. Then she spotted a delightfully secluded alleyway behind the stables nearby. She whispered in her friend’s ear: “I have an idea. Sand, hide there, and wait for me.”
Her friend complied – her taking a backseat until they regrouped with Sylvié was for the best.
Then Nancy rushed to Eli and Carol-Anne, doing her best to look frightened.
“Girls! I need your help.”
“What?”
“There’s…” Nancy thought fast of a lie. “… swamp witchery at work! Yeah! Swamp witchery! Behind the stables!”
“I knew it! Just like last time!” Carol-Anne exclaimed.
“That’s our cue!” Eli added.
“Show the way, nurse!”
The two women followed Nancy’s lead. A part of her was feeling a bit awkward her trick had worked. It shouldn’t have worked… And yet it had!
The trio turned around the corner, and disappeared from prying eyes.
“Alright, swamp witches! Show yourselves!” Carol-Anne exclaimed. “Hey wait! What are you doing?! No, stop! You-”
(punch!) “Urf!” (jak!) “Ouch!” (pow!) “Uhhh…”
Two limp unconscious bodies fell onto the ground with dull thuds.
**************
Nancy dusted her hands. “Sleep tight.” she said to the two women, who were on the ground lying on one another.
Of course, save for some unconscious moans, Eli and Carol-Anne didn’t answer anything.
Nancy and Sand went down to work, and began stripping off their outfits the pair of girls they had knocked out with a few well-aimed punches.
Nancy took off Carol-Anne’s clothes, leaving the ginger clad in a white sleeveless top and white open drawers adorned with some frills around the waistband strap. Sand pulled off Eli’s outer clothes. However, she didn’t touch the woman’s red lace-adorned vest and blue lace-adorned knickers.
Nancy frowned.
Sand explained herself: “I don’t feel like it this time...”
Nancy put a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll understand.”
The two friends stripped off their dresses and tore their former clothes into strips. They used them as makeshift ropes to bind Eli’s and Carol-Anne’s wrists and legs, then used some thicker strips as cleave-gags. They concealed the trussed up unconscious bodies in a haystack behind the stables.
Finally, they got dressed in the gunwomen’s outfits, strapped their belts and guns around their waists, and headed to the church.
The Queen’s Nest was a dreadful sinister place that smelled of stagnant water and rotten wood. The derelict boat stood out in the middle of the bayou like some giant beast covered in moss. However, it also made for a fine hiding spot.
Nancy, Clinton, and Sand were waiting. Brett had instructed them to wait for him here. Nancy trusted the marshal, her father’s former partner, but they were still carefully hidden just in case. Maybe somebody else had seen and interpreted the message.
“Someone’s approaching.” Sand whispered. “Two people.”
Nancy frowned. “Who goes there?”
“That’s me, Nance. I came unarmed. But not alone. This young lady was quite adamant to tag along when she understood where I was going.”
Nancy recognized the voice.
Brett Stockton, marshal and former partner of her father.
And next to him, there was a familiar figure.
“Sylvié?”
“Miss Delacroix here found out I was in charge of the investigation. She managed to meet me before I left.” Brett glanced at the young maid. “I must say she’s quite the insightful lady… easily deduced where my true allegiance lies...”
Sylvié smiled thinly.
“When she discovered where I was going, she insisted on coming with me. And… let’s just say she refused to take no for an answer.” Brett looked at Sand. “I think you two will have a lot of things to say to each other.”
The young Navajo was at a loss for words – something that rarely happened to her. She simply nodded, noticing Sylvié had eyes for her and her only.
In fact, the French maid was the one who took the initiative. “I think your friend and the marshal also have things to say to each other.” She grabbed Sand’s hand. “Why don’t we leave them alone a bit?”
Sand nodded, and let herself be led away by Sylvié.
“I’ll see myself out too.” Clinton commented. He nodded at Brett.
The marshal nodded back. “Maybe we’ll have a word together later, young man.” His voice carried the kind of warning boys had learned to fear when they met the older relatives of their ladies.
Clinton also left.
For the first time in years, Nancy got a close look at her father’s former partner and best friend, a man she affectionately called ‘Uncle Brett’ even though they weren’t related by blood. He looked so different. He wasn’t even that old, but something in him appeared worn out.
“You’ve… grown…” the marshal finally commented.
Nancy couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re as bad at small talk as I remember…”
“I know. I- I’m sorry I wasn’t here more for you, Nance.”
“It’s fine, uncle. I know you have your own demons to face.” Nancy knew of his gambling addiction – and many debts. She knew it had started after her father’s death. “Besides, I wasn’t alone then. I had Uncle Wade and Aunt Agatha. And I’m not alone now.”
“Allow this old man to make amends nonetheless. I want to help you. DeBeers can parade around all he wants, I know he’s a slimy piece of shit. But he’s a piece of shit with many people on his payroll. As marshal I can make a move against him, but I’ll need solid evidence. Rock solid. Problem is… I can’t acquire those legally.”
“That’s where we step in.”
“If DeBeers falls, then all the rumors he spread fall with him. I’ll pull out as many strings as I need to discredit them.”
“Hopefully you have a plan.”
Brett nodded. “You've met Victoria.”
“Wish I didn’t.”
“She’s not a mere bounty hunter, Nance. She’s not even just a representative. She owns an estate. The Van der Laar plantation. The most productive of the whole State.”
“How?”
“Her husband died.”
“She did it?”
“It was a decade ago. Things were suspicious. She was accused of poisoning him. But her name’s been cleaned a few years ago. Officially, he died of natural causes.”
“Thanks to DeBeers and his money I bet.”
“Of course. He wanted a share of the estate, so he put Victoria in charge.”
“Sounds like a convenient place to hide shady deals…” Nancy nodded. “It’s a plan then. We’ll comb the place to find proof.”
Wayne put a hand on her shoulder. “Nance. You’ll have to be careful. You’ve seen how DeBeers and Victoria operate. They’ll make sure the people they send after you are clean - at least legally. The Van der Laar estate is no different. It has quite the reputation in Louisiana. A safe haven that serves as shelter for women who have nowhere to go and need a job. If you kill an innocent, even an armed innocent, I won’t be able to protect you.”
“No need to worry, Uncle. I’m a sheriff.” She adjusted her hat to emphasize her point.
And in that moment, Brett saw his old partner standing in front of him. “Your parents would be so proud of you.”
“I hope.”
“They would.” he insisted. “Never believe otherwise.”
“… Thank you, Uncle Brett.”
**************
Sand got a better look at Sylvié. The maid was dressed in traveling clothes – a sturdy coat over her dress, a woman’s hat, and strong comfortable boots. She was carrying a big case and a smaller handbag.
“It seems… almost unreal… Like some dream come true…” the young Navajo confessed. “Why are you here?”
“Because I wanted to follow you.”
"But what about your mistress? Eleanor? Will she not fear for your safety?"
Sylvié sighed gently and unfastened her cloak. "To be honest, Miss Eleanor never notices me or gives me a second glance. It's always "Dress me Sylvié!" Or "Sylvié pack my bags." Stuck up cow. Well she can pack her own bags now, I don't care anymore." She looked Sand in the eyes. “I quit.” And saying those two words made her happy.
“Following me is dangerous. I- I don’t want you to be hurt because of me.”
Sylvié smiled brightly. “You’re so adorable when you’re worried for me. But there’s nothing you can do. I made up my mind. If you want me to leave, you’ll have to tie me up in a sack.”
Sand didn’t know what to say anymore. A part of her wanted to embrace Sylvié here and now, a part of her wanted to say yes, and a part of her wanted to make her leave with the marshal and keep her safe.
Sylvié noticed her turmoil. “This is new for the both of us. Don’t worry. I’ll leave you some time to adjust. Later, we’ll have all the time in the world...”
Sand had never felt so scared and at the same time so excited.
**************
Brett couldn’t stay with them for long – Victoria and DeBeers would have gotten suspicious. He left them horses, supplies, weapons, and fresh clothes. Then, with one final good luck, and a promise to help them as much as he could, the marshal left them on their own. Sylvié refused to come with him, claiming once more they’d have to knock her out and carry her in a bag to New Orleans. Since they didn’t want to reach such extremes, they gave her a room in the Queen’s Nest.
Nancy and Clinton went to rest shortly after.
“Bastard DeVitt… He and his bitch got us good… Now we’ll have to fight them with the entire State after us…” She clenched her fingers, mimicking a strangling gesture. “You should’ve let me snap that bitch bounty hunter’s neck… How could she… talk to me like that…?”
Clinton put a hand on her shoulder. “Why are you so angry?”
His gentle touch calmed her instantly. “The baby.”
“It’s not the baby, and we both know it.”
Nancy groaned to herself, then finally confessed. “I did hurt these women, and others before them. It would be hypocritical to pretend otherwise. I tell myself the end justified the means, but on the other hand… Consequences are still here. And what if one day I accidentally kill one? Guess Victoria’s words stung...”
“And the very fact they did proves she’s wrong about you.” Clinton gently grabbed her thigh. “You don’t know Victoria like I do. That’s what she does. She worms her way into your weaknesses, and then keeps digging deeper and deeper until you snap.” He pulled her close to him. “You didn’t like hurting these women. You always acted to deliver justice to the worst outlaws, you never acted out of greed like Victoria. That’s what makes you better than anything she could ever hope of becoming. You do it because the alternative would be letting guys like McClaine or DeBeers have their way. We both saw how things are when guys like them are in charge. In the long run, you did so much good – including for the girls of Red Rock.”
“You sure have your way with words…” Suddenly, Nancy sat on his lap. “Mr O’Hara, you’re going to take off your clothes.”
“Here and now?”
“Here and now. We have some time to spare.”
“What about Sand?”
“Sand doesn’t mind. She has a beautiful French maid to occupy her thoughts. And I’ve seen how Sylvié looks at her. Trust me. I don’t think Sand will finish the night alone. I expect she’ll get a visitor soon – maybe she is already. Now, Mrs O’Hara requires you to do your marital duty.”
**************
Sand smiled sitting on the bed, checking their rations as she heard her friends giggling in the next room before the sounds gave way to the intense sound of passionate love making. The young Navajo then found her thoughts turning unbidden to Sylvié. She put herself back in that room, admiring the maids’ sweet beautiful pale pink face and long silken chestnut brown hair, caressing her small but supple breasts. Her slim pleasing figure, slender hips that supported a pert peach shaped rear and small trimmed womanhood. Subconsciously, Sand reached down her pants, fingers brushing her own vagina.
Suddenly a small knock came from the door. Taking her hand away from her sex, Sand picked up her tomahawk just in case, before opening the door.
"Sylvié?" The Navajo breathed, putting her weapon down on the floor, as she beheld the beautiful face of the maid who haunted her thoughts.
"My brave, pretty Rushing Sand. I’ve been waiting all night for the opportunity to talk to you alone!" the maid said her melodious accent made Sand's heart melt. “May I come in?”
Sand let her. The sounds of love-making coming from the other room didn’t bother the maid.
“Sylvié. I’ve been talking about this with Nancy and Clint. It’s not safe for you to hang out with us. If anything were to happen to you…” Sand found herself with tears welling in her mismatched eyes, she felt strange she had never shed tears before.
The cute maid smiled gently caressing the Navajo's face eliciting a gasp from the usually stoic native. "Sweet Sand. The fact that you care enough to say that fills me with joy!"
Sand gently took the French maid’s hand kissing it. “I’ve been thinking about you, Sylvié. Ever since the casino and well maybe even before then."
The young maid squeezed Sand's hand. "I understand, Sand. Ever since the day we met, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind… I know we have a connection. I want to know… I want to know if… if you…" Her voice trailed off, husky with desire. Her lips were leaning closer and closer, brushing Sand’s.
"I think I already do, my sweet Sylvié." Sand declared before impulsively kissing the maid’s warm inviting lips passionately, her heart skipping a beat as it was returned. Sylvié wrapped her arms around Sand’s back, tightly pulling her against her.
Their first kiss was long – very clumsy, but earnest and passionate.
Then Sylvié broke off their embrace. Her cheeks were red, and she was feeling emboldened by Sand’s kiss. Giggling, the maid pulled back, beginning to strip off her clothes.
"Wait!" Sand held up her hand, Sylvié blinking in confusion as she stopped halfway unlacing her apron. "I-I want you to see me. All of me first. It just feels right."
Sylvié stopped, nodding in understanding and smiling as she watched Sand strip completely naked in front of her. The young maid was getting aroused at the sight of Sands’ tanned athletic body standing before her in the candle light. Well rounded supple breasts with puffy dark brown areolas glistening in the low light, full clean shaven womanhood and pert plum shaped buttocks.
Sylvié gasped as her hands touched and fondled the Navajo's breasts and buttocks, Sand moaning in arousal she couldn't contain. "Beautiful. T-there is no other word to describe you, now you will see me for the third time.”
Sand smiled, her breasts perking up at the sight of Sylvié stripping off each article of clothing before she stood before the young navajo, completely naked. With the body of a goddess.
Embracing the naked Sylvié, Sand hesitated looking down. "Sand what's the matter?" The french woman said gently tilting her head up.
"I-I haven't done anything like this before. Not with a man or woman. What if I fail to please you?"
Sylvié just smiled, fingers caressing the Navajo's face. "Neither have I, ma cherie. But I'm willing to go on this journey with you, together. Just promise me one thing..." she mischievously smiled grabbing a handful of Sand's ass, Sand gasping erotically. "...promise me you won't steal my clothes and leave me tied to the bed." She winked. “At least not for our first time…”
Both women burst out laughing as Sand pulled their naked bodies onto the bed.
The two young women explored each other with tender kisses and playful touches before giving into sheer carnal bliss, their bodies lustfully intertwined.
Baton Rouge, LA, Sunday 8th November 1884, 09:00am
Baton Rouge. State Capital of Louisiana. Necessary stopping place to resupply during their journey on horseback to the Van der Laar Estate. Also known for its inhabitants who were a peculiar combination of trigger-happy and dumb-as-a-brick.
The second Nancy and her friends entered town, they realized that place would be trouble.
The signs were unmistakable. Too much noise, too much excitement. Too many armed people roaming the streets. Someone was assembling a militia.
On the walls of many buildings, there were the same Wanted posters as in New Orleans. Other posters were calls for volunteers to join a militia to capture the ‘dangerous criminals roaming free’. All documents had the seal of the DeBeers Company.
No need to be a genius to deduce that this troop of volunteers was being gathered to hunt down Nancy and her friends.
Thankfully, their hats and cloaks were concealing their identities. They were on horse and not on foot – which also didn’t match the posters' description, as they mentioned they would probably use the railroad. Plus, Sylvié’s presence with them was deflecting suspicion – the Wanted posters mentioned a group of three people, not four, and none of them matched Sylvié’s description.
Clinton grabbed one of the posters requesting volunteers for the manhunting party. He gave it a quick read.
“DeBeers sent four of his personal enforcers to rally a militia, and comb the region to find us.” he announced to the others.
Nancy muttered a curse. “We can’t exactly travel to the Van der Laar Estate with a small army after our hides.”
“Thank God the marshal lent us horses!” Sylvié commented. “Had we been on foot, we’d have arrived after the militia was assembled…”
“True. I don’t see how we’d have slipped through the fence had it come to that…”
“You think we can lose them?”
Nancy shook her head. “Even if we do, they’ll be breathing down our necks until we leave Louisiana. We already have to worry about Victoria. We should try and do something about them.”
“This kind of flock needs leaders. Maybe we should cut the heads of the snake.” Sand proposed.
“We won’t kill innocent people – even if they work for DeBeers.” Nancy interrupted her.
Clinton read the poster a second time. “Then maybe you’ll want to check the names.”
Intrigued, the redhead complied. Her eyes widened. “No way!” The names were indeed familiar – at least for a sheriff of the Arizona Territory – since the four DeBeers enforcers were actually wanted criminals there.
Elliott Bell. Wanted for the robbery and murder of a whole family of farmers – children included.
Charles Fish. Wanted for eight cases of rape – and those were the ones for which he had been identified. Nancy suspected there were even more victims.
Doris McFarlane. Wanted for a dozen murders – the most notorious being three long range shootings of cattle barons. Deadly sharpshooter. Known for her sadistic impulses and hatred of men.
Averell James. Wanted for several coach robberies. Infamous for killing all the travelers after they had given him their money, to leave no witnesses.
“I know these guys! They’re all outlaws!”
“Pretty bold of DeBeers.” Sand dryly commented. "Or maybe pretty stupid."
“They’re not wanted here. Nor are they in the neighboring States. They’re from Arizona. That’s how I know about them – unless you’re from here, you can’t possibly have heard about them.” Nancy explained. “Some of them were even associates of McClaine for a while… Must explain why DeBeers is still employing them… I stopped hearing about them soon after McClaine’s death. Guess that’s where they went.” The redhead suddenly smiled harshly to herself – it was a predatory grin. “Very obliging of Maximilian. He makes things easier.”
“How so?” Sylvié asked.
“We won’t kill innocent people working for DeBeers. Even armed innocents and guards.” Nancy stated. “But these four are no innocents. We get rid of them, and the whole militia will be disorganized. Escaping them will then be child's play!”
“Still, it’s best to not make the deaths too obvious.” Clinton intervened. “Technically, they’re not outlaws here. Your marshal will have a hard time covering things up for us if there are obvious murders.”
Nancy shrugged. “Of course. Accidents do happen.”
09:35am
Tracking down the moves of the four DeBeers enforcers proved to be the easy part of the task. Their whereabouts were basically public knowledge.
Elliott Bell was currently resting in the field hospital the DeBeers Company had mounted for the militia next to the city – he had apparently been wounded during a drill earlier today. Doris McFarlane was inspecting some recruits in front of one church – and according to the gossips she was also ogling the women in arms showing up to enlist. Charles Fish was in the brothel – Nancy shuddered at the idea of a monster like him in such a place. Finally, Averell James was in the corral – trying to show off by taming a wild bull.
However, reaching them would prove to be harder. While Nancy and her companions hadn’t been identified yet, their group couldn’t exactly walk openly in those locations. Better not push their luck and go incognito…
Or, more accurately, go in disguise.
“Once we begin mugging people for their outfits, we’ll only have a few hours before we have to skip town. We will split up to be more efficient. I’ll go after Bell. Sand, you deal with Charles. Clint, you take care of Averell.” Nancy proposed. “Sylvié. It’s best if you tag along with one of us.”
The former maid nodded, and wrapped an arm around one of Sand’s.
“Guess that settles it.” Nancy commented. “Sand, Sylvié, and I will regroup once we’ve taken care of our targets, and we’ll deal with Doris.” She showed her companions a location on a map of the area. It was an abandoned barn on the outskirts of the city. “We’ll regroup there after we're done. Any questions?”
The others shook their heads.
“Then let’s do it.”
The Queen Bee Brothel, 09:45am
Among Baton Rouge’s brothels, the Queen Bee was the most prized at the moment. Big, fancy, built a bit apart from the city’s hustle and bustle. There were even trees and bushes of flowers around.
Concealed in bushes near the outhouses in the Queen Bee’s backyard, Sand and Sylvié were observing the area. Charles Fish was already inside. Sand now only needed a way in.
Said way in would be the first prostitute going to relieve herself in an outhouse...
The two hidden women observed through the leaves a few of the brothel’s girls come and go through the back entrance, but no suitable target walked close enough for Sand to grab her.
Hearing a few idle chats and giggles from a group of girls entering the brothel, Sand couldn’t fully hide her scorn.
“Don’t judge them too harshly. They’re women trying to survive in a world of men. Like you and I.” Sylvié whispered. “I’ve known girls like them. Servants who had to sell their bodies to make ends meet… or who had to get in their employer’s bed to keep their job.”
“Did you have to…?”
Sylvié shook her head. “No. I was lucky, in a way. Eleanor’s father was a fair employer – he never tried to take advantage of me or to cheat me off my wages. I just wish he hadn’t spoiled his daughter rotten-”
She stopped talking when she spotted the lone girl walking closer to their location. The woman was heading to the outhouse.
The prostitute was well-endowed, with big breasts, wide hips, dark brown hair, a light skin, and doe-like hazel brown eyes. She was wearing a pink dress adorned with white lace around the collar, the sleeves, and the bottom. The garment was fitted around the waist with a red piece of cloth. She was also wearing brown booties. Her haircut was shoulder-long ringlets. She was wearing a few jewels – earrings, choker, and bracelets. They looked shiny, but were clearly baubles.
Sand’s body tensed in anticipation.
Sylvié eyed her. “You- You won’t kill her, right?”
Sand shook her head. “I’ll make her sleep.” However, she didn’t try to lie about what she was going to do: “I may have to hurt her, but I’ll make it as painless as I can.”
Sylvié was a bit pale, but nodded. “I- I’ll watch the back.” She moved out of Sand’s sight.
The brown-haired prostitute walked next to the Navajo’s hiding spot, and grabbed the door of the outhouse.
Sand caught the girl and pulled her into the bushes. The busty brunette squeaked and flailed her arms, sending a few leaves and branches flying. Sand punched a very specific part of her skull. The girl let out a faint shriek, and her body went limp. She was knocked out cold. Sand nodded to herself. Quick and efficient. The girl would have a bruise and a sore head after waking up, but nothing else. Nancy and Sylvié would be pleased.
The young Navajo wasted no time stripping the brown-haired prostitute naked: she removed all the girl’s jewels, the cloth sash tied around her waist, the booties, and the dress, then she also took off the frilly white-lace-adorned light pink petticoat the woman used as underclothes, exposing her ample breasts, with puffy dark pink roundel shaped areolas, small womanhood topped with a large trimmed triangle of dark brown fuzz and supple bubble butt.
Sand stripped off her own outfit, bound the brunette’s limbs with the rope she had been keeping tied on her belt to play the part of a ranch hand, and gagged the girl with her discarded scarf. She then hid her victim and the remains of her former outfit in the bushes, and slipped into the petticoat, dress, and booties. Finally, she wrapped the sash around her waist, and put on the jewels.
“Sand, you’re done?” a voice whispered in her back.
“Yes.”
Sylvié approached her. “Wow. Those clothes suit you. For someone who doesn’t like women’s clothes, you surely-” She interrupted herself, and glared at the unconscious bound woman half-hidden in the bushes. “You- You stripped her naked?”
Sand frowned. “Yes.”
“You do that to every girl you meet?”
“Yes. Why?”
Sylvié grimaced. “Oh! So I’m just another one…” she muttered to herself. There was a mixture of bitterness and pain in her voice. “Of course I am… What was I thinking…? Stupid of me to believe otherwise…”
“What’s taking you all of a sudden?” Sand turned to take her hand.
“Don’t-” Sylvié moved out of her reach. “I- I need some space… I’m sorry…” She left without giving Sand the time to answer something.
The young Navajo hesitated. She was feeling deeply confused and hurt by her lover’s sudden mood shift. What had happened? She didn’t quite understand the maid’s reaction. Sand contemplated running after her, but she knew it would jeopardize her mission.
The woman at her feet began to moan and stir, putting an end to her thoughts. Sand swiftly wrapped her arms around the prostitute’s neck, and squeezed to put her back to sleep. Once the naked woman was unconscious again, Sand concealed her further into the bushes.
The young Navajo decided she would deal with Charles Fish first. Nancy was counting on her! Then she’d find Sylvié.
**************
Infiltrating the brothel proved to be quite easy – almost disgustingly easy. Even with her mind preoccupied by her quarrel with Sylvié, Sand managed to avoid any undue attention. She headed straight to the pantry, intending to grab a bottle of whiskey.
However, there was already someone inside – another girl of the brothel, busy sorting alcohol bottles on a shelf. She was quite cute – though not as curvy as the brunette Sand had mugged – with a heart-shaped face, healthy white skin, dove-like blue eyes, and curly auburn hair tied into a loose bun.
“Hello. I’m the new girl.” Sand announced.
A basic deception, but the simplest lies were often the most effective.
The auburn-haired young woman glanced at Sand. Her eyes briefly lingered on the Navajo’s mismatched eyes.
“Okay. Name’s Jane. What’s yours?”
“Manuela.” Sand figured out she could pass herself as Mexican – it was best than to reveal she was a Navajo.
Jane nodded to herself. “You need something?”
“Charles Fish requested a bottle of whiskey.”
“They’re over there.”
“And his room is…” Sand trailed off, pretending to have a memory lapse.
“First floor. Last door on the left.”
“Thank you.”
She noticed Jane was scratching her chin.
“Funny. Your dress looks a bit like Kathy’s…” the girl muttered to herself.
She didn’t add anything. Sand punched her in the stomach to cut her breath, then knocked her out by hitting her neck with the edge of her hand. Jane groaned, instantly losing consciousness. Sand grabbed her falling body by the stomach so that she wouldn’t make any noise when falling. Letting out one long breath, Sand listened carefully. No sound of alarm. Nobody had heard the brief scuffle.
Sand then eased the unconscious woman onto the floor, cut a few strips of Jane’s green dress, and used them to bind the young woman’s limbs and to gag her. She found an empty barrel in a corner of the pantry, and stashed the prostitute there.
There was nothing personal. The second Jane had begun to question Sand’s story, her fate was sealed. She’d now have to spend a few hours concealed inside that barrel.
Satisfied Jane wouldn’t blow her cover, Sand went to the shelf, grabbed the bottle of whiskey, and poisoned it. Then she followed the girl’s instructions and went to Charles Fish’s bedroom.
The target was sitting on his bed. He was actually quite handsome – while she was into women, Sand had listened to enough conversations to know which type most settler girls fancied. But Sand only needed to remember the eight cases of rape to see the monster hiding behind the charming facade.
“I didn’t ask for a Greaser, girl. I have standards.” Charles commented, mistaking her for a Mexican girl. His harsh words were offering a stark contrast with his angelic appearance.
Sand was already in turmoil because of her quarrel with Sylvié. And seeing the rapist in the flesh, reminding her of her own father… and hearing that filth having the galls to claim he had standards… that made something snap in her.
The plan was to poison his drink. Sand forgot the plan.
She didn’t bother with a witty reply or one-liner. Nancy might have. But Sand wasn’t Nancy. And Sand was beyond furious.
She didn’t scream – she was still a Navajo scout, and she knew when stealth was essential. She simply rushed forward.
Charles realized the danger – but too late. When he opened his mouth to call for help, Sand was on him. She punched him in the stomach to silence him, then moved behind him, and wrapped an arm around his throat. One hard torsion, and she snapped his neck.
“A rapist with standards… You’ve got to be kidding me…” the young woman finally spat as she dropped the corpse away.
Sand used the bedsheets as makeshift ropes, and hung the body to the ceiling. She was confident nobody would question why a hung man had his neck snapped. She emptied some of the whiskey on him, to make sure he’d reek of alcohol, and smashed the bottle onto the floor – therefore nobody would find out it was poisoned. Then she threw a chair under his feet, to make it look like he had hung himself.
Once the fake proof was planted, Sand discreetly sneaked out of the building.
She needed to regroup with Nancy.
She needed to talk with her friend.
DeBeers Company Field Hospital, The Same Moment
Employees, nurses, and doctors working for the DeBeers company had mounted their field hospital next to Baton Rouge. It consisted of several tents in a circle.
Using the cover of tall grasses, Nancy approached the location by walking crouched down. She discreetly cut a small hole through the fabric of the farmost tent, and crawled inside. She was in a secondary part of the field hospital. There were a few beds, and a cabinet with medicine at the other side. Some crates were lying in a corner.
Nancy ducked and hid behind one field bed when she heard some noise.
She discreetly took a peak, and noticed a lone nurse wearing brown boots, a long one-piece black dress with a white apron, and a frilly white nurse bonnet. She was a cute young woman with strawberry blond hair, dove-like blue eyes, a soft light skin, and a heart-shaped face. Her figure was slim, with an attractive curvy bottom. Her hair was tied up into a tight bun on her neck.
The nurse was sorting through the medical furniture of the cabinet, humming a merry little tune to herself.
Assessing the woman’s size, Nancy noticed her clothes would fit her. She suspected the cabinet was filled with many potentially lethal drugs. She had all she needed at hand to make it look like Elliott Bell suffered a fatal medical error.
First step, borrow the clothes of this nurse…
As discreet as a cat on the hunt, Nancy approached the strawberry blonde from behind. The nurse, oblivious of the danger, kept humming and sorting through the bottles. Nancy saw her fill a syringe with a dose of laudanum big enough to make someone sleep for hours, then put it on a tray, taking the time to grab some bandages.
The redhead smiled to herself. Thank you for your cooperation. You’re a sweetheart, making things easier for me...
Nancy made her move. She pounced on the nurse from behind, gagged her with her right hand, and with her left hand she grabbed the syringe filled with laudanum and jabbed it in-between the woman’s neck and shoulder. The nurse struggled and moaned for help, but the hand-gag muffled her cries. Nancy injected her with the sleeping drug. The struggles were brief.
When the limp body slumped into her arms, Nancy dragged the nurse by the undershoulders in-between two beds, laid her onto the ground, and crouched next to her. She stripped the woman off her boots, bonnet, apron, and long dress, leaving the nurse clad in her undergarments. The blonde was wearing white silk drawers with a leaf-and-flower pattern. To cover her breasts, the nurse was using one of those 'corset substitutes' patented in 1859 by Henry S. Lesher of New York: one that was combining shoulder straps, breast pads and armpit shields. A pretty rare and expensive device in these parts.
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Nancy raised an eyebrow at the fancy choice of underwear – and out of curiosity she checked the blond nurse’s hand. She discovered a brand new wedding ring.
“Guess that explains why you looked so happy.” the redhead mused. “Only the best for your man, uh? I can relate to that.”
Nancy swiftly stripped herself down to her own underwear, and put on the nurse’s uniform. She also removed the woman’s hair pins. The nurse’s hair fell on her shoulders. She copied the woman’s neck bun, and used the nurse’s bonnet to hide her hair.
Then, she lifted the unresponsive body of the deeply asleep strawberry blond woman, and laid her onto one of the beds. She covered her from toe to head with a sheet, to conceal her by making it look like a sick patient was resting.
Nancy considered binding and gagging the woman. She knew enough of the properties of laudanum to calculate the nurse would sleep for the next three hours – maybe four if she was lucky. So she decided against it. She trusted Sand had already finished the job with her mark, and she wouldn’t need much time to get rid of her own either. Then three hours would be more than enough to deal with their final target. And if somebody found out about the nurse earlier… Then her being asleep or bound-and-gagged wouldn’t change anything.
Nancy hid her former clothes under the bed in which the nurse was concealed, then adjusted her new outfit and hid her revolver under the dress. She grabbed the syringe she had used to knock the nurse out and the bottle of laudanum. This time, however, she filled it with a lethal dose of drug.
She grabbed a tray and a few pieces of medical furniture to perfect her disguise, but was interrupted by the arrival of another nurse.
This one was a brown-haired woman with green eyes, around the same age as the blonde sound asleep and concealed under the sheets, with her hair tied up into the same bun. The newcomer entered the tent like a storm, without even taking a good glance at Nancy, and went to fetch something in a crate.
Nancy quickly pretended to be busy sorting through the furniture of the cabinet, as it gave her an excuse to prevent the other nurse from getting a good look at her face.
The brown-haired nurse began to speak: “Lottie! I swear to God, this must be the worst hunting party I’ve ever seen! Have you heard the news? Billy just shot himself in the foot trying to show off!”
“Uh-uh.” Nancy muttered in assent while still pretending to fidget through the furniture – she suspected all the nurses knew each other, so she couldn’t risk speaking out loud. If she did, the brown-haired nurse wouldn’t recognize her voice, and would discover she was an impostor.
“These morons are lucky they have numbers on their side! Had it not been for that, I can’t see them catching a donkey! Most can’t wipe their nose without someone holding their hand! Thank God DeBeers sent a couple of supervisors!”
“Uh-uh.”
“Anyway, you can take a break. I already gave Billy his laudanum. I’ll stay here. Not like there is anything to do. Unless some other idiot attempts to upstage Billy...”
Nancy took note of the information… and discreetly grabbed another syringe, a clean one. She filled it with a normal dose of laudanum – one that would make the brown-haired nurse sleep three or four hours just like Lottie.
“The other girls said Billy wanted to impress me, but if this guy really wants my hand, he’s not going to win me by waving his gun and-mphhghh?!” the nurse let out a muffled squeak when Nancy hand-gagged her. She injected her with the laudanum to put her to sleep.
“Thanks for telling me nobody but you will visit this tent for the next couple of hours. Nothing personal, I just need you out of the picture.”
The struggles of the brown-haired nurse lasted a bit longer than Lottie’s, but ultimately she also succumbed to the effect of the soporific drug. When the brunette was sound asleep, Nancy dragged her into the bed next to Lottie’s, and also concealed her under the sheets.
The idea of assaulting two nurses didn’t have much appeal to her, she respected the nobility of their mission. However, on the other hand, she reasoned that at least these two would sleep through the events in a safe place. If the people of Baton Rouge were as clumsy as they were trigger-happy, then it was best to be out of sight when the corpses would be discovered.
Nancy grabbed her tray, and the syringe filled with the lethal dose of laudanum, then went to the tent in which her mark was resting. She didn’t encounter another nurse – maybe Lottie and her brown-haired friend were the only ones in the field hospital right now.
As a personal enforcer of DeBeers, Elliott had requested an entire tent for himself. It said a lot about his ego, but Nancy didn’t complain. It would make her job easier.
The guy was resting on his bed. He frowned when he saw Nancy, but was fooled by her outfit.
“I didn’t request a nurse, girlie.” he barked.
“Elliott Bell, isn’t it? Heard you murdered an entire family of farmers – down to the youngest child.”
The man’s eyes widened. He attempted to get up. “Who told you-”
He had betrayed his identity. Nancy hit him in the throat with her fingers – a blow strong enough to cut his breath, but one that would not leave an obvious mark on the body. Then she injected him with the deadly dose of laudanum, jabbing her syringe in his neck.
“Trust me. It’s quicker than the rope.”
She blocked him onto the bed, and watched his body spasm as the highly-concentrated drug took effect. She let go of him when he lost consciousness and couldn’t scream anymore. Nancy didn’t stick around to see him draw his last breath – she knew the dose she had injected him would kill a horse.
Nobody paid attention to the red-haired busy-looking nurse exiting the field hospital.
And one less to worry about...
Near St Mary's Church, 10:02am
Nancy was the first to arrive at the meeting point near the church. From what she had heard, Averell was still alive and Clinton was still in the corral, but she trusted him. Therefore, she focused on the fourth target – Doris McFarlane - and waited for her companions.
When Sand regrouped with Nancy, the latter was surprised to see her friend was alone.
“Where is Sylvié?”
Sand grimaced. She was feeling dejected. “She left.”
Nancy frowned. “Left?”
“We had a fight.” Sand was, as always, a woman of few words. But they were unusually emotional.
The redhead took her friend's arm. “What happened? Did something go wrong at the brothel?”
“No. I got the target. And I- I didn’t kill the girl. Just knocked her out, like always. But when Sylvié saw her, she just… stormed off.”
Nancy pondered briefly. “Was the other woman naked?”
“Of course. You know I steal everything.”
“Did you explain yourself?”
“She didn’t give me the time. I don’t understand her reaction.”
“You must try.” Nancy put a hand on her shoulder, and attempted to find the right words. “Listen. Sylvié was a servant. All her life, she’s been treated as an inferior. Then she met you. For the first time, she felt important. She felt she was someone. But when she saw you with that naked girl, she thought she meant nothing to you.”
“But she does! She’s my shikeyáh!”
“Then tell her! She thinks she’s not good enough for you. Not good enough for anyone. She thinks she’s worth nothing – that’s what people have been telling her all her life.”
“Then people are either blind or stupid.”
“Most of them are rich fat cats, so they probably are.” Nancy took her hand. “Come on. Let's find out where she went. You’ll sort out everything with her, then we’ll deal with Doris.”
**************
It didn't take them long to find her.
Near the entrance of the town, in the main street, Sylvié was sitting on an empty cattle trough, deeply lost in her thoughts.
However, the street wasn’t empty. A large group of armed people – most of them women – were walking the town. They were led by familiar faces – one friendly and one most unfriendly.
Brett and Victoria.
“Of course she’d show up…” Nancy bitterly commented. She grabbed Sand, and forced her to remain concealed behind a fence.
“Let me go! I won’t let them harm-”
“Brett is here! There are dozens of gunslingers!” Nancy warned her. “Sand, you have to trust her.”
Sand growled. “If that snake hurts her, I'll blast her head off!”
Sylvié noticed the newcomers too late, and was smart enough to not try and leave. It would have looked suspicious. Ever so briefly, her face betrayed her fear, but she worked to hide her emotion.
Victoria’s eyes fell on the former maid. She composed herself a huge smile. “Well, well, well, well, well… How the stars align…”
Sylvié feigned surprise. “Uh… Hello? Have we met?”
“Not personally. But I know your mistress. You’re the French maid. Why are you not with Eleanor?”
“I quit my job.”
“Right after you were robbed and left naked by these criminals…? And now I’m finding you here, the town where they’re the most likely to be found… Amusing coincidence…”
Victoria’s tone clearly hinted she did not think it was a coincidence. There was a short beat. Sylvié had to hide her nervousness. She clutched her hands on her apron to prevent them from shaking.
“I didn’t see them. But if I did, I’d gladly report them to proper law enforcement.” Sylvié lied. “Besides, I heard them talking when they were ambushing me. They said their plan was to leave Louisiana and cross the border with Mississippi.”
Nancy felt Sand relax slightly in her grip. Sylvié had just lied to law enforcement for them – for her. She didn’t need a better proof of how much the French maid cared for her, lovers quarrel or not.
“And I’m quite sure changing Eleanor’s chamber pot and cleaning her doilies gave you a good understanding of manhunts…” Victoria commented. Her posse of gunwomen shared a good laugh.
“Last time I checked, traveling alone isn’t illegal, Victoria.” Brett intervened. He tipped off his hat to Sylvié, pretending to not know her. “Young lady, you’re free to go. And be wary of outlaws.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll try and find proper company.”
Sylvié turned away. As fast as a rattlesnake, Victoria blocked her path. She was still all smiles, but her eyes were cold. The French maid recoiled slightly in surprise.
Nancy now had to physically restrain Sand. “Trust Brett, please…” she whispered.
“Victoria. You’re out of line.” the marshal intervened. His voice was soft, but still carried a warning.
“Just doing my Christian duty, sir.” Victoria pulled out a huge roll of bills. “Traveling alone is not illegal, but a woman on her own is easy prey.” She shook her head. “I wanna help. Miss Maid… Ever heard of the Van der Laar estate?”
Sylvié briefly hesitated. Was it a trap? Did Victoria know about their plan? “No.”
“It’s a plantation, run by women for women. My sister just happens to manage the place. I could put in a good word for you.” She waved the bills under Sylvié’s nose. “And give you something to start a new life...”
Sylvié glared at the money. It was enough to cover her expenses for a couple of years.
Then she moved Victoria’s hand away. “Please step aside. Or I’ll have to scream.”
“As you wish.”
Victoria complied, Sylvié walked past her.
The bounty huntress scratched her chin, and turned to her second-in-command. “Hey Mary, you know what they call a lady-in-waiting without a lady?”
“No boss.”
Victoria’s eyes glimmered. “A whore-in-the-making.” She relished her hurtful jab. The other gunwomen laughed cruelly.
Sylvié froze briefly, then held her head high and left without dignifying the bounty hunter with an answer.
Victoria glared at Sylvié’s back while she was leaving. Her fake-sugary smile was gone. Her face was now cold and calculating.
Brett walked next to her. "That was uncalled for, Victoria."
“She’s hiding something. She deserved worst. And if I didn’t know you better I’d think you’re trying to stall us, old man.” she retorted with a sideways glance.
Nancy frowned. Victoria’s attitude had changed. No more theatrics. The bounty hunter was being herself. And she was on a nickname basis with Brett…
“Just making sure you play by the rules.”
The bounty hunter snorted. “Right… The rules…”
“What? No witty remark?”
“Why? There’s no audience. Besides, you should know better than to help your little sheriff. She’s a real outlaw now.”
“You said it yourself Victoria. There’s no audience. Stop pretending.”
The bounty hunter chuckled, but it was a bitter empty sound. No bombastic line, no larger-than-life smile. Nancy sensed she was seeing the real Victoria for the first time.
“That’s the funny thing, old man. I don’t even need to pretend. I barely need to embellish the truth a little. I’m starting to dig up interesting things… New Orleans wasn’t her first stunt – Eleanor and her maid weren’t either one year ago. Still trying to figure out why nobody signaled her though. Guess she really takes advantage of her status...”
“Don’t try to drag her down to your level.”
“You’re one to talk, old man. How are your gambling debts again? Being a marshal is pretty neat to intimidate your creditors into giving you more time to pay up. So don’t lecture me. The world is an ugly bitter place. There’s no such thing as an honest man. Your precious little sheriff isn’t different. Everybody just keeps… playing a role.”
“Like you’re playing the role of the innocent widow?”
“IF – and I’m saying IF – I did kill Vaclav – which I didn’t of course – then I’d only have done what your precious little sheriff pretends she does. I’d have dispensed justice.”
“For what?”
“Child murder.”
Nancy frowned from her hiding spot. Once again, Victoria’s weird tic of clutching her stomach.
Brett glared at Victoria.
The latter ignored his gaze. She pulled out her pocket watch, checked time, and calculated her next move.
“But haven’t we already discussed the topic, old man?” she finally commented. “Law doesn’t care about your reasons, only the consequences of your actions. Speaking of which...” She closed her watch and waved her hand. “My girls and I will comb this town. If they’re here, I anticipate they’ll have left a trail of naked girls by now.” Answering her signal, her posse gathered around her. “Girls! Clint is worth ten dollars. The Indian girl, twenty. And if any of you get the little sheriff… You win a bottle of the Company’s finest bourbon! Remember: five gunslingers are a threat, but one is an opportunity. Move in big groups, cover your blind spots, and never split up.”
Nancy and Sand watched as the posse split up into a few groups – small enough to cover a lot of ground, but big enough to prevent an ambush from a duo of disguised women.
Nancy grimaced. “Change of plan, Sand. We can’t regroup with Sylvié right now. We have to hurry, and get rid of the fourth mark. Hopefully, Clint can deal with Averell by himself before Victoria finds out about him…”
“I can’t leave Sylvié on her own!”
“Sand. Look at her. She’s staying in public areas. You have to trust her. She’s smart. She knows Victoria can’t do anything to her in front of witnesses. She knows where to regroup with us later.”
Sand took a few seconds to calm herself. Her feelings were hard to sort out – she wasn’t used to being so emotional – but the pragmatic Navajo scout in her finally resurfaced. “You’re right. We’ll find a way to collect her once we’re done. Then we’ll talk things out.”
**************
One of Baton Rouge’s churches was under repair. Therefore, since it wasn’t currently used for cults, Doris was using it to interview the volunteer recruits. She didn’t dare do it inside the sacred building though – things were taking place in front of the main door. She’d often ask the recruits to try and shoot at targets on the wall nearby – and would always have something cruel to say about their skills. However, with the women, she was trying to show off – shooting at the targets with expert marksmanship.
“The bell hasn’t been fixed yet.” Nancy noticed. “I think I can easily stall for time, and trick her into standing where you can drop it on her.”
“Okay.”
Nancy noticed Sand was unusually unresponsive – no doubt she was preoccupied by Sylvié’s safety. The redhead therefore took the lead.
“We can’t stay dressed like that however. People will question a nurse and a prostitute showing up to enlist in the militia. We better change outfits, and quick.”
Nancy was confident they could intercept a couple of gunwomen wishing to enlist - and take their place and outfits. It took the two companions a little while, and a quick search of the area around the church, but then they found something of interest.
The two gunwomen in their line of sight were busy talking next to a poster on a fence, near the stables.
“So if I get it straight... Here we are looking for Indian loving swamp witches, Carol-Anne?” a black-haired white-skinned brown-eyed woman asked. She was wearing a black Stetson hat, a red-and-black long-sleeved plaid shirt, a cow waistcoat, a brown belt and a colt, light brown chaps, and black boots. Her hair was tied up into a loose neck bun.
“Yeah, so what's your point Eli?” her partner retorted. Carol-Anne was a tall green-eyed ginger with many freckles on her face. Her hair was tied up into a ponytail. She was wearing a brown Stetson hat, a beige duster coat, a blue-and-green plaid shirt with short sleeves, a black belt and a colt, dark brown cowboy chaps, and brown leather boots.
“Do we know what a swamp witch looks like?” Eli insisted.
“Didn't you see the wanted posters at the Sheriff's office? Mr DeBeers is offering a fortune for them.
“They looked like no swamp witches to me. They didn't have no pointy hats.”
Carol-Anne rolled her eyes. “Just stop your blathering. Pointy hats indeed, frickin' dumbass. Everyone knows they should have big noses, although that Clinton O'Hara looks mighty fine.”
Nancy eyed the two women’s body proportions. Then she spotted a delightfully secluded alleyway behind the stables nearby. She whispered in her friend’s ear: “I have an idea. Sand, hide there, and wait for me.”
Her friend complied – her taking a backseat until they regrouped with Sylvié was for the best.
Then Nancy rushed to Eli and Carol-Anne, doing her best to look frightened.
“Girls! I need your help.”
“What?”
“There’s…” Nancy thought fast of a lie. “… swamp witchery at work! Yeah! Swamp witchery! Behind the stables!”
“I knew it! Just like last time!” Carol-Anne exclaimed.
“That’s our cue!” Eli added.
“Show the way, nurse!”
The two women followed Nancy’s lead. A part of her was feeling a bit awkward her trick had worked. It shouldn’t have worked… And yet it had!
The trio turned around the corner, and disappeared from prying eyes.
“Alright, swamp witches! Show yourselves!” Carol-Anne exclaimed. “Hey wait! What are you doing?! No, stop! You-”
(punch!) “Urf!” (jak!) “Ouch!” (pow!) “Uhhh…”
Two limp unconscious bodies fell onto the ground with dull thuds.
**************
Nancy dusted her hands. “Sleep tight.” she said to the two women, who were on the ground lying on one another.
Of course, save for some unconscious moans, Eli and Carol-Anne didn’t answer anything.
Nancy and Sand went down to work, and began stripping off their outfits the pair of girls they had knocked out with a few well-aimed punches.
Nancy took off Carol-Anne’s clothes, leaving the ginger clad in a white sleeveless top and white open drawers adorned with some frills around the waistband strap. Sand pulled off Eli’s outer clothes. However, she didn’t touch the woman’s red lace-adorned vest and blue lace-adorned knickers.
Nancy frowned.
Sand explained herself: “I don’t feel like it this time...”
Nancy put a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll understand.”
The two friends stripped off their dresses and tore their former clothes into strips. They used them as makeshift ropes to bind Eli’s and Carol-Anne’s wrists and legs, then used some thicker strips as cleave-gags. They concealed the trussed up unconscious bodies in a haystack behind the stables.
Finally, they got dressed in the gunwomen’s outfits, strapped their belts and guns around their waists, and headed to the church.
