La Belle Dame Sans Merci

Spring 1861

Elias Fletcher, Eli to everyone except his father, trudged through the Spanish moss-covered trees, bemoaning his choice of activity for the night. Growing up on a ship and in different ports had given him a perspective that most people didn’t have. To his parents’ abhorrence, it had also given him a skill set that most people didn’t have. His preference for the night was to be sitting in a card parlor, enjoying the remains of luxury before scarcity reared its ugly head. Those that still had access to capital weren’t spending it quite as frivolously as they had a year ago. Of course, a year ago, the great state of Louisiana had been a proud member of these United States. Three months ago, they had ceased to belong to the Union, instead forging new bonds with the Confederacy.

“Jack, where are we going?” Eli hissed the words to his compatriot for the night. They were moving under the cover of darkness, which seemed to naturally demand the hushed tones. He considered Jack Devereaux to be a friend, up to a certain point. There certainly weren’t very many other people who could convince him this was a good idea.

“I told you. There’s something I want you to see.”

Eli almost stopped, frustrated with the lack of knowledge on his part. It was an error he rarely made, and with only a few people. Generally, with those people he trusted with his life and he could count those on one hand.

Jack abruptly stopped and looked down into a small valley. It was really less of a valley and more of just a change in elevation. The trees surrounding them should give them enough cover. The minimal sliver of light coming from the crescent moon offered more. He turned and looked at Eli, glad he at least had the sense to wear a dark jacket. “You wanted a reason to stay.”

Eli frowned. “That not exactly what I said. I said I was going to miss New Orleans, but there’s fewer and fewer opportunities for someone with my particular skill set. And I have no desire to get swept up in the war.”

Jack shrugged. “Whatever. There’s opportunity in war. What’s one thing that every war-torn area needs?”

“A good doctor?” The response was dry and said with a twinge of self preservation.

“Supplies.” Jack looked back down. If she got the cart through the patrol, then maybe it would intrigue Eli enough to listen.

Eli frowned and watched the valley. They were far enough away that he could see the vague delineation of a cart path. No doubt an old path going from the smaller plantations in the north, down to New Orleans. They had heard rumors of union soldiers patrolling the area. The New Orleans port and the Mississippi River would be primary targets of control for the Union. All the more reason to get the hell out of the state.

Eli heard the quiet clicks of hoofs before he saw the cart. “Jack…”

“Relax. She’s got the papers to get through any checkpoint.” Jack watched the scene unfold below him.

“She?” Eli couldn’t comprehend how he had even gotten to this point. He had no business being in the middle of nowhere watching an unknown party attempt to move supplies through a Union infested area. He watched a Union soldier stumble out of the tree line.

Apparently, the man had been caught off guard. It was a bizarre play orchestrated not in a theater but in a remote and desolate area. The woman gracefully alight from the cart. It was so dark the only thing distinguishing her as a member of the fairer sex was the graceful movement and the swish of her skirt. It was simple, created more for use rather than fashion. He focused on the figure and a few more details became clear. She was petite, with long dark hair plaited in a braid. A woman had no business playing this game. He watched in morbid fascination as she interacted with the soldier.

The plan seemed to work. The woman had handed over a sheet of paper which the union soldier had accepted, glanced over and handed back. Eli watched her slide the paper back into a concealed pocket in the skirt, then the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

Something had caught her attention. The next thing Eli saw was the glint of steel from a gun that had replaced the paper in her hand. The shot was quick. And not as loud as Eli had been expecting. But it had been sufficient in accomplishing the intended goal.

“Shit. That wasn’t the plan.” Jack scanned the tree line for other soldiers.

Eli frowned as the woman was obviously talking to someone in the woods. A young girl stepped out. An escaped slave, no doubt. Maybe 13 or 14 years old. Eli saw the torn dress and knew, without hearing their conversation, what had happened. “Are we not helping?” Eli was baffled by his own words. Helping was not in his nature, but there was something surreal about what was happening.

“No. She’s got it.” Jack watched to make sure before turning and urging Eli away from the site.

They walked in silence back to the horses. Eli mounted his horse and waited for Jack to mount. “What was the purpose of this little venture?”

“Moving supplies. She’s good, she just needs help. There’s a lot of money to be made, especially once this war has been going on another couple of months.” Jack glanced over at Eli. He could provide muscle, but Eli provided more than that. To pull off a continued smuggling ring required more than just muscle. To add a blockade to it meant they needed cunning, guile, and someone who could think on their feet. They needed Eli. Jack just wasn’t sure they had him yet. “Are you going to Kenner’s fundraiser next weekend?”

Eli ignored the obvious shift in conversation. “Probably. It’s more than likely the last event that’ll offer any opportunity of a decent card game…or a chance to make money.”

“Good. I’ll see you there. I probably won’t make it up there until Friday night.” Jack paused and glanced over again. “Don’t make any final decisions about leaving until I have a chance to convince you otherwise.”

“You have the entire ride back to New Orleans to convince me.”

Eli squinted at the target. It was a shot he could make with ease. The rest of them were sufficiently inebriated and assumed he was too. He didn’t bother correcting them. The two that had taken their turn couldn’t have hit the broad side of a barn, much less the target in front of them. It was easy money. Easier money if he made all six shots.

When the echo of the last shot faded, the murmurs of astonishment, and claps of congratulations abounded. He collected his earnings and accepted a glass of the free flowing drink. He leaned against one of the shade trees in the side yard of the Ashland Plantation. From his vantage point, he could see the steamboats meandering down the Mississippi River as well as the large stately Greek Revival mansion that Duncan Kenner called home. The white columns lining all four sides made for an impressive appearance and only substantiated Kenner’s wealth and status.

Duncan Kenner was the Chairman of the newly founded Ways and Means Committee of the Confederate Congress and was hosting a weekend fundraising event at his plantation. Attendees included all the major families of New Orleans and Baton Rouge, as well as some from as far away as Mobile. All were invited with the intention of raising funds for the Confederacy. Eli had always known the right people because of his family and had secured an invitation. There was a good chance that this would be the last such gathering for quite a while. News of the Confederate success at Fort Sumter a couple weeks ago had only bolstered Kenner’s fund raising activity, but the fighting would eventually make its way to the Deep South. They all knew it.

He noticed a woman walked towards him. Glass in hand, she smiled and came to a stop in front of him. “Impressive display.”

Eli shrugged and returned the smile. “Beginner’s luck.”

She studied his face and met his eyes. “First shot was louder than the other five.”

Eli frowned. “Excuse me?”

The woman smiled. “Just an observation, Mr. Fletcher.” She glanced over at a group of women. “Enjoy the party.”

Eli watched her walk towards the group and interact with a few of them. He had pulled the same act dozens of times and no one had ever picked up on the difference in shots. He was unnerved that she had, but more troublesome was that she didn’t seem too interested in letting anyone else in on the secret.