No Less Than the Journey (2 page)

CHAPTER 2

For the remainder of the voyage to New Orleans Marshal Aaron Berryman held shooting instruction twice a day for the men who would be going up the Mississippi river with him. It was immediately apparent to everyone that Wes was better than average when it came to handling a rifle, but Aaron was appalled to learn he had never fired a handgun.

On the second day of instruction, after practise with a Henry fifteen-shot repeating rifle came to an end, the marshal signalled for Wes to remain behind when the others dispersed.

When they were more-or-less alone, he reached beneath his coat and pulled out a handgun. Passing it to Wes, he said, ‘Have you ever seen one of these before?’

Looking at the gun in his hand, Wes shook his head, ‘No, but it’s a beautifully made weapon.’

Aaron inclined his head in agreement, ‘It’s certainly that and familiarisation with it could one day make the difference between living and dying. That’s a Colt revolver, boy. There are gunfighters in this country – good gunfighters – who favour other guns, but seven out of ten of ’em will be carrying
some form of Colt. This one fires a forty-four calibre bullet, and that’s big enough to stop anything smaller than a buffalo. Besides, if you’re close enough to be using a handgun against another man the size of the bullet it fires won’t matter. It’s the accuracy of the man using it which will decide the outcome. Right, now I’ll show you what to do with it….’

For the remainder of the voyage, Marshal Berryman made Wes practise using the Colt revolver for at least two hours every day. By the time the
Northern Star
berthed in New Orleans, Wes was able to hit targets fixed to the ship’s rail with at least three of the Colt’s six bullets.

Despite this, Aaron was still not satisfied. As he told Wes, ‘There are a great many mean men out there who can score six out of six, son. Until you can match ’em, shot-for-shot; put the bullets where they need to go, and get them off a fraction of a second faster than the other man, you’d do better to stay East of the Mississippi. But we’ll keep practising. Perhaps you’ll improve when you own a gun of your own.’

New Orleans was a vibrant and exciting sea port and the dock area particularly busy. Goods from almost every country in the world were brought in by freighter and sailing ship. In addition, produce was piled high on the dockside, carried downriver from the interior. Cotton plantations, devastated by years of war, were producing crops once more, giving employment to men and women who had once been slaves. Now, they were paid labourers – although few outsiders could have detected any difference.

The night-life of New Orleans was brash and memorable. Taverns and saloons vied with brothels and gambling-houses for custom, providing every possible diversion in a bid to attract custom.

Yet, even in this thriving town, the deep wounds caused by
the late Civil War were still much in evidence – and when one particular incident flared up, Wes witnessed Aaron Berryman in action.

From conversations Wes had overheard on board the
Northern Star
, he realized that to plantation owners, the words “freedom” and “slaves” were mutually exclusive. War had cost them dearly, yet, in effect, it had done little to change the social structure of the Southern States.

This was particularly evident in the bars of New Orleans. Crowded with seamen, frontiersmen and townsfolk, there was not a freed slave to be seen. Furthermore, when men had drunk enough to burst forth in song, their ditties were more often than not those which had found favour with soldiers of the Confederate army.

Despite this, many of the women who worked in the saloons had a high proportion of African, Mexican or Native American blood coursing through their veins.

It was one of these saloon women who was responsible for reinforcing the importance Marshal Berryman had placed upon the handgun when giving weapon instruction on board the
Northern Star.

Wes and Aaron had become friends during their passage on the
Northern Star
and, to celebrate their first night ashore in New Orleans, Aaron took Wes on a tour of the riverside saloons.

In what would later in the day become one of the sea port’s busiest establishments, they arrived at a fairly quiet time. As a result, the “hostesses”, employed on a commission basis by the saloon owner, descended upon the new arrivals. Fortunately, a crowd of mining men from upriver entered the saloon almost immediately and all but one of the girls abandoned the two men in the hope of more lucrative pickings.

The girl who remained squeezed herself onto the padded
seat between Wes and Aaron and introduced herself as ‘Lola’. Unlike many of the other girls in the room, Lola had no African blood in her veins, although she clearly had a Mexican background.

Looking from the United States marshal to Wes, she asked, ‘You boys just arrived in New Orleans? Where you from – and where are you going?’

As Wes and Aaron exchanged glances, Lola added, ‘Most men who arrive in New Orleans are moving on to somewhere else. Usually heading West, each chasing his own particular dream.’

‘That’s a mighty perceptive remark, Lola,’ Aaron said, ‘But you’re right, we’re heading upriver, maybe not chasing dreams, but looking for a chance to do what we’re best at. Wes here is from England. He means to go mining in Missouri.’

Lola showed immediate interest. Turning to Wes, she said, eagerly, ‘You are an English miner? So was my father. He came to Mexico from Cornwall to mine silver when he was still a young man.’

‘I’m from Cornwall too,’ Wes said, ‘Where is your father now?’

It was as though his words extinguished a light. Lola’s enthusiasm disappeared, ‘He’s dead. My mother too. There was a raid on the mine by the soldiers of Juaraz and they were both killed.’ Bitterly, she added, ‘I should have died too. Instead, they made me a whore.’

Almost casually, Aaron observed, ‘Juaraz was supported by the United States government. Why come to New Orleans to earn a living in the country responsible for the death of your parents?’

Giving Aaron a direct look, Lola said, ‘When I came to New Orleans, Louisiana was fighting against the United States. I was only fifteen then and knew far less than I do now.’

‘In wartime we all grow up a whole lot quicker than we should,’ Aaron observed, ‘But the war’s been over for quite a while now – yet you’re still here.’

Moved by her story, Wes said, ‘Surely you don’t intend spending the rest of your life working here, in this saloon?’

Lola cast a glance around the saloon and it came to rest upon a woman who was probably twice her own age, but who looked even older, ‘And end up like Mary? No, Señor, I intend getting out of here, and very soon.’

Looking around her once more, to ensure no one was eavesdropping, she dropped her voice and said, ‘You say you are heading upriver … what boat will you be travelling on?’

‘We’re booked on the
Missouri Belle
, leaving the day after tomorrow,’ Wes said, before Aaron could reply, ‘Have you heard of her? Do you know if she’s a comfortable boat?’

Lola clapped her hands together gleefully, ‘I hope so, I really do. I will be going upriver on the same boat. One of the men who owns her was in here a few days ago. He offered me work on board – as a croupier. I will be sailing with you!’

‘I heard the
Missouri Belle
had a casino on board,’ Aaron said, casually, ‘That means there’ll be a lot of money changing hands, no doubt.’

‘I hope so,’ Lola said, unaware of the meaningful glances exchanged between Aaron and Wes, ‘I am working on commission. The more money that’s spent at my table, the more I will earn.’

‘You’ll earn far more on board the
Missouri Belle
than in a New Orleans saloon – one way or another,’ Aaron said, meaningfully.

‘Yes … yes, I
will
.’ Lola’s chin rose aggressively, ‘But I will be earning my living as a croupier. I will be the one to decide whether or not to earn extra money for myself.’

She looked nervously around the saloon before adding,
‘While I work here I must do as I am told, but see very little of the money I earn.’

‘I’m sure you’ll do well on the
Missouri Belle
,’ Aaron commented, ‘There’ll be all sorts on board. Talking of which do you know anything of the man sitting over there, beneath the large mirror? He’s giving the impression of having drunk enough to be trouble, but I’m not so sure it isn’t an act.’

‘I don’t like him!’ Lola said, emphatically. ‘His name is Lansdale, Remus Lansdale. He is in here often. He claims his family lost their fortune to the North during the war and is very bitter that the South did not win.’

Aaron sighed, ‘How are we ever going to build a great country when so many men are still fighting the war? Do you know if he carries a gun, Lola?’

The bar girl said quickly, ‘Carrying a gun is not allowed in New Orleans.’

‘That isn’t what I asked. What do you know?’

Lola looked increasingly ill-at-ease, but she answered his question, ‘One of the girls who goes upstairs with him claims that he carries a handgun in a specially made pocket in the lining of his coat.’

‘Did he show it off to her?’ Aaron asked.

‘I doubt it,’ Lola replied, ‘She probably found it by going through his pockets when he was asleep. Ivy has a reputation among the girls for “rolling” her men if they’ve had enough to drink. One day she’ll meet with a client who hasn’t drunk as much as she thinks and take the beating she deserves. Until that happens she’ll carry on. She’s not very bright.’

Aaron was still watching the man who was the subject of their conversation. Without looking at Lola, he said, quietly, ‘Ivy may not be very bright, but her observation might well save a man’s life. I don’t think Lansdale’s as drunk as he’d like everyone to believe. He’s watching the door as though he’s
waiting for someone. Does he have any particular friends – or enemies?’

‘As far as I know he has no friends,’ Lola replied, ‘As for enemies….’ She shrugged, ‘You might as well include anyone who doesn’t speak with a Southern accent.’

‘But there’s no one in particular?’ Aaron persisted, ‘I’ve been watching him for some minutes. He’s very much on edge, as though he’s waiting for something or for
someone
.’

‘What business is it of yours?’ Lola demanded, suddenly curious. ‘You’re only passing through New Orleans. What happens here shouldn’t concern you.’

Aware that Lola was brighter than the average saloon girl Aaron said, ‘That’s perfectly true, but I’ve fought in the war, seen a lot of men killed and met with a whole lot of killers. That man has something on his mind – and he’s carrying a gun. If a gunfight was to start in here, lots of folk would likely be hurt – you, me and Wes among them.’

Lola was obviously frightened and, somewhat incredulously, Wes asked, ‘You don’t really think he’s waiting to shoot someone, Aaron?’

‘I don’t know the man well enough to say for certain,’ Aaron admitted, ‘But he’s made that drink in front of him last for a hell of a long time. I’ll repeat my question, Lola. Is there anyone in particular he might be waiting for?’

After only a brief few moments of thought, Lola nodded. ‘There’s been a man in here a couple of times lately. He goes upstairs with Sadie – she’s the tall, dark-skinned girl sitting at the far end of the bar. When a man’s in bed with a girl he usually ends up talking for longer than he’s doing anything else. This stranger boasted to Sadie that he’s an ex-Union officer and has helped free more slaves, and thrown more landowners off their plantations than anyone else in the whole of the Union army. It’s probably a lot of hot air, but it’s
possible Lansdale thinks he might have had something to do with his family losing their land. I believe Sadie’s mother was a pampered slave-girl on Lansdale’s family plantation and she and Lansdale talk a lot together….’

At that moment a tall dark-haired man with an immaculately trimmed beard entered the saloon and Lola said, excitedly, ‘That’s the ex-Union officer now.’

Pausing in the doorway, the new arrival looked about the room until he spotted Sadie. Smiling, he advanced towards her.

Suddenly nervous, the woman switched her glance to Lansdale, and nodded almost imperceptibly. From that moment events moved quickly.

Before the self-styled ex-Union army officer reached the bar, Lansdale reached inside his coat and his hand came out clutching a heavy revolver.

As the gun rose to point at the newcomer, Wes saw with a start that Aaron was also holding a revolver and the US Marshal called loudly, ‘Hold it, Lansdale … hold it right there, or you’re a dead man.’

The Southerner’s body jerked as though he had already been shot, then he spun around to look at Aaron.

Wes expected him to size up the situation and lower the gun. Instead, Lansdale raised the revolver to point at the US Marshal!

‘Don’t be foolish, Lansdale,’ Aaron warned the other man, but instead of lowering the revolver, Lansdale thumbed back the hammer, the sound loud in the silence that had fallen upon the saloon.

Before Lansdale could pull the trigger of his gun, Aaron fanned the hammer of his own gun with the heel of his left hand and fired – then fired again.