Foster started to protest again, but Alana cut him off quickly. “Go, Tim, and if anyone ever asks, you had no knowledge of what Crystal or I are attempting.”
“Lady Parkins–” Foster began.
“No more arguments, Tim. Go!”
Tim Foster knew he had no choice. He knew also that if something went wrong with their plans, it needed to be the work of the two women. If he was seen, the consequences against Maklin-Parkins and their vast resources would be devestating.
When he was gone, Alana went to Crystal. “I hope Chaco made it.”
“He did,” Crystal stated emphatically.
“Are you ready?” Alana asked.
“Be careful,” Crystal cautioned. “Don’t do anything crazy.”
Alana laughed nervously. “Crazy? Crystal, how much crazier can we be? But, Crystal, crazy or not, I won’t come out without Rafe!”
“I know,” Crystal whispered. “I know.”
As the first faint light of dawn began to paint the African plateau with color, Alana worked her way to the wooden barricade closest to the miners’ barracks.
Obscured by the last vestiges of the night, Alana went to the fence and sat with her back near the already-weakened boards that would provide her entrance. As she waited for the signal, she thought about how her destiny had changed in the past years, leading her so far from home to this very spot in the South African interior.
After consulting with Tim Foster and memorizing the layout of the mine, Alana and Crystal had formed a daring but simple plan. Going through a fence near the barracks, Chaco would enter the mine at around three in the morning–a time when even the most alert guard would be drowsy. He would work his way through the barracks until he discovered Rafe. Then he would lead Rafe back to the opening in the fence, where Alana waited.
In the meantime, Crystal would take a carriage and drive it toward the fortress-like entrance of the mine. The idea was for the carriage to hit and block the gate so that it would take some time for the Bristol’s guards to pursue Alana and Rafe.
They’s jimmied the rigging of the carriage so that at the right moment, a quick kick from Crystal’s boot would free the horse.
Once Crystal was clear, she would mount the horse and ride to where Alana had set up the rendezvous.
Although it was dangerous, Crystal believed she would be able to jump free before the carriage collided with the gate. In any event, Crystal would not allow Alana to dissuade her from taking this risk in order to free her brother.
Chaco had signed that he would find help for them. He had not explained what he would do, only that he would be back in time for the escape.
Except, Alana now thought as she looked around the dawn-lightened land, Chaco had not returned. Alana believed something had happened to prevent Chaco’s return. She knew he would not willingly abandon them. She prayed that Chaco had gone directly into the mine without stopping to tell them he was back. If necessary, Alana would take Chaco’s place, but she would not go in until the sun started to rise.
The sun finally rose, and with it Alana’s apprehension increased. Unlike Crystal, who wore a traveling dress to add authenticity to her role and to confound the guards at the beginning, Alana wore pants, high boots, and a cotton shirt. She’d pulled her hair tightly back, and covered her head with a wide-brimmed man’s hat.
Turning slightly, she looked at the section of fence that Chaco and Foster had loosened on Saturday night. She touched one board; it moved slightly in response.
It would take only seconds to pull the boards free and get inside. “And when I do,” she whispered, “will I find you, Rafe?”
~~~~~
Inside the long, dark barracks were fifty narrow beds. The sounds of men sleeping–some moaning unknowingly in their sleep–filled the fetid, foul air.
Only one of the fifty was awake. He had awakened suddenly, sensing eyes upon him. It was not the first time that something like this had happened to Rafe. The lonely years of slave-like labor and the absence of women had turned many of the stronger workers into animals, lusting after anything they could get.
Rafe’s hand moved slowly until his fingers curled around the small knife he had made out of a spoon. Then he froze. The man who stood above him was not making any move toward him. Rafe decided to wait and see what would happen.
His eyes were well adjusted to the darkness and aided by the faint light of the predawn sky, made out the shadowy form as the man leaned down. Rafe’s arm tensed; he got ready to spring. The man did not move as if he were attacking Rafe; instead, one hand touched Rafe’s shoulder gently while his other hand went to his mouth, signaling Rafe to be silent.
In that incredible instant, Rafe recognized Chaco and bolted upright.
Chaco signed to Rafe, but realized he would not understand. Instead, he made motions for Rafe to dress.
Rafe smiled for the first time since his abduction in New York, and left the bed. Two minutes later, he was dressed and ready. As silently as Chaco had entered the barracks–the fourth one he had entered in his search for Rafe–both men left.
Outside, leaning against the side of the building, out of the guards’ sight, Rafe grasped Chaco’s arm and asked in a quiet voice, “Is Alana here with you?”
Chaco nodded once and then led Rafe to the wall of another barracks, this one closer to the wall that surrounded the mine. The men moved quickly yet stealthily, avoiding the eyes of the guards in the tower. Rafe refused to allow his mind to wander as he concentrated on only one thing: escape.
When they reached the last building and faced the two hundred feet of open land between the building and the stockade wall, Rafe looked at Chaco.
Chaco held up his hand and then tapped his ear with his forefinger.
“Wait? Rafe’s brows furrowedd. “Wait for a signal?”
Chaco nodded again.
Rafe exhaled and leaned against the building as the leading edge of the sun peeked over the horizon. His heart beat fast, powered by the adrenaline pumping through his body and the hope he would soon be free and with Alana. How she had managed this, he had no idea, but that was unimportant now. If he reached freedom, there would be time to learn how she had found him. If he didn’t, it wouldn’t matter.
Then, from the front of the mine near the large gates came the thundering sound of wood ramming into wood. At the same instant Chaco pushed Rafe forward, and the two men sprinted for the fence.
As soon as Crystal had seen the leading edge of the sun crest the horizon, she had taken a deep breath and started the carriage forward. By the time she was a hundred yards from the gates, the sound of the speeding carriage was loud in the air.
She looked at the top of the gates and saw a half dozen guards staring down at her in confusion. She stood, balancing herself precariously, and shouted for help.
With fifty yards remaining between the carriage and the high gates, Crystal’s heart thudded in fear. Her mouth was dry; her hands clenched the reins so tightly that her skin was sickly white.
At twenty yards, she saw the realization that the carriage would not stop dawning on the guards’ faces. Shouts reached her, but she did not hear them in her fierce concentration.
At thirty feet, the carriage was aimed at the center of the gates. When the gates grew to the height of a mountain, Crystal used the toe of her boot to hit the rigging hook; the leather and wood parted from the carriage.
Unable even to take a breath, Crystal dove from the carriage, hitting the ground and rolling wildly to a stop as the sound of wood striking wood echoed loudly in the early morning stillness.
She sat motionless for a moment, her breath knocked from her lungs. Then she willed herself to move. Turning over, she saw that the carriage had struck exactly where she’d intended and had wedged itself into the double gate, effectively locking it until they worked the carriage free.
Turning again, she saw that the horse had stopped fifty feet from her. She got to her feet, ran to the horse, and as the guards shouted o
ut to her, used her knife to cut away the carriage rigging. Thirty seconds after reaching the horse, Crystal was mounted and galloping away.
~~~~
Where are you, Chaco? Alana thought as she heard the echo of the collision between carriage and gate. She could not wait for him any longer. She worked the boards free from the fence and started inside, but before she could pull herself through the opening, she saw two men coming at her in a dead run. Chaco! And…could it be Rafe?
Gunfire erupted from the two nearest towers as the two men escaped through the fence. Bullets whistled over their heads, careening madly when they hit the rocky earth near them.
The bullets meant nothing to Alana, whose eyes froze on Rafe’s gaunt face, drinking in the familiar depths of his emerald green eyes. “Rafe,” she whispered.
Suddenly the air was filled with bone-tipped spears. Three dozen projectiles whistled overhead; the guards ducked for cover.
Astonished, Alana turned to see what appeared to be a full tribe of Africans standing on the rise behind them just as Rafe’s whispered oath reached her ears. “Sweet Jesus!”
Then Chaco pushed Alana and Rafe, urging them onward. Neither wasted a moment to look back as they raced to freedom.
When the three reached the crest of the hill, Alana saw dozens of black warriors, some carrying rifles, others carrying spears. The warriors surged toward them, surrounding everyone.
Rafe’s mind worked at lightning speed, but the events of the past hour had taken their toll on him. He stood in the center of a tribe of Basuto warriors; next to him was the woman for whom he had stayed alive.
A thousand questions rose in his mind, but he pushed them all aside as he looked at Alana again. “How did you find me?” he asked as he opened his arms to her.
Alana couldn’t speak. Rafe looked terrible and smelled worse, but to her he was magnificent. She stared wordlessly up at him. Then, in the security of his arms, she lifted herself up on the balls of her feet and pressed her lips to his.
The feel of his mouth upon hers told her that everything would be all right again. When she ended the kiss, her tears fell, but she ignored them. She opened her mouth to speak, but saw Chaco signing to her urgently. Go now. Talk later!
Smiling, she took Rafe’s hand in hers. “We must move quickly. A quarter mile from here is a carriage and–”
“And what?”
Alana smiled again as her eyes roamed his face. “You’ll see,” she whispered.
Crystal reined in the horse when she reached the hidden carriage. As she’d ridden, she’d heard gunfire coining from behind her. All she could do was pray that Chaco, Alana, and Rafe had made it away from the mine.
Dismounting, she pulled the horse’s reins over its head and handed them to the driver. Then Crystal took a few steps in the direction of the mine. Her nerves were taut, but she knew that only time would calm them. She could do nothing else now but wait.
Ten minutes later, Crystal’s mouth fell open in amazement. Before her unbelieving eyes came a large band of black warriors; at their head strode Chaco, Alana, and Rafe. Without further thought, Crystal ran toward them.
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When Rafe saw the waiting coach, he breathed easier. He knew that a full platoon of guards would be hunting for him soon. No one had ever successfully escaped the Bristol.
Then, as he saw a figure running toward them, Rafe froze to the spot, his hand tightening ferociously on Alana’s while he stared at a sight out of a dream.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered. Confusion and shock twisted on the gaunt lines of his face. He shook his head, and then he looked at Alana, whose smile told him that he was not hallucinating.
“She’s dead,” he insisted.
“So were you. No, Rafe, she’s very much alive.”
Then, Crystal was in Rafe’s arms, her hands digging into his back, her sobs echoing above the African plateau.
It took several minutes for Crystal to calm down. When she finally released her brother, she said, “We can’t waste any more time. We have to go right away!”
Rafe, looking from Crystal to Alana, was still stunned. “How did you find me?”
“Later,” Alana declared, pulling Rafe forward. “Soon we’ll have all the time in the world. But not if the prison guards catch us.”
Inside the carriage, Alana sat next to Rafe, and Crystal and Chaco sat opposite. They were jubilant as the carriage started out. Behind it, Basuto warriors followed at a half run, several of them trailing long leafy branches that obliterated the tracks of the wagon.
Rafe settled himself in the seat, drew in a deep breath, and then looked at Alana. Before he could ask one of his thousand questions, Chaco spoke. At the sound of his voice, everyone in the carriage was struck speechless, an irony which did not escape Chaco.
As the others stared, Chaco told them exactly who and what he was. His much abbreviated tale took a half hour to tell, and when he finished, he turned to Crystal, who was the first to speak.
“All these years,” Crystal whispered incredulously.
“It was necessary for me,” Chaco stated.
Crystal smiled, blinking back the tears that spilled from her eyes. “I know Chaco, I’m–I’m just–” When words failed her, Crystal used sign language to explain her feelings and to thank him for his help, both here and ever since she had met him.
“We have shared so much of our lives, Crystal,” Chaco said in a low voice, “that it is very hard to think of leaving you. But I must, for my father is growing old, and I will be the next leader of the Basuto people.”
“You will be a wise leader, one who will not be deceived by the white men who are trying to own everything on this continent,” said Alana, adding, “and you will be able to count on my support, and that of Maklin-Parkins, too.”
Chaco nodded gravely to Alana. “I thank you for myself and my people. In the years to come, your help might make the difference between the survival or the end of the Basuto people.”
Rafe continued to gaze at the three players in this still-not-quite-believable melodrama. Finally, he could hold himself back no more and, turning to Alana, he spoke.
“I think it’s time for my explanation. And,” Rafe asked dryly, “just why did the driver call you Lady Parkins?”
As they continued on their journey from the diamond fields to Port Elizabeth, Chaco’s warriors still followed behind. While they traveled, Rafe learned first of his sister’s life after he had left San Francisco on his ill-starred voyage.
Crystal spoke slowly, explaining all that had happened in the past seven years. Three hours after she had begun, she was once again dry-eyed. She looked at her brother and waited for his angry response.
Rafe held Crystal’s gaze for several minutes. All the old anger had risen with her story: the deep-rooted hatred for the men who had tried time and again to destroy his family. Added to his long-simmering fury was the new rage over what Crystal went through. At first he had been devastated by the knowledge that his sister had become a whore, but that soon passed as he willed himself to think rationally. Finally, when he was able to speak, he did so in a level voice.
“You are here, Elizabeth, and alive. That’s all that’s important. You did what you had to do. That you did not die in the fire in Nevada is more important than what you did to survive after that. You not only survived, you prevailed. You enabled Alana to keep Riverbend and Landow Shipping, and because of you, we are all here together today. You aren’t a whore, Elizabeth, you’re a lady.”
Crystal went into his arms then and held her brother close.
A little while later, after Crystal returned to her seat, Rafe looked at Alana. “Talk to me, my love. Tell me everything.”
Alana gazed at him as he took her hands. She tried to speak, but she could not. Taking a deep breath, Alana made herself tell him everything. She spared nothing, and every word she spoke was the truth.
When she finished, she tried to pull her hands free, but Rafe would not allow it. “I’m s
orry, Rafe. If there had been a shred of hope that you were alive, I never would have married Edward.”
Rafe shook his head and released her hands. He turned from her to look out at the land.
“In all the time I spent in that mine, I never once thought of you with another man.”
Alana turned from him, unable to stop her tears. “Don’t,” she whispered.
Rafe said nothing; instead, he continued to stare at the land and the sky as he tried to digest all he’d been told.
They stopped several hours after nightfall to make camp. Rafe maintained his strange silence.
Two of Chaco’s warriors brought game back for their meal; neither Rafe nor Alana ate. They sat apart from each other, staring off into their own troubled worlds.
After the meal ended, Crystal, knowing it would be the wrong time to speak to either Rafe or Alana, walked with Chaco and learned more of his past. They talked for an hour, and when they returned to the campfire, they found Rafe still staring vacantly at the fire. Alana was gone.
Chaco called out in his native tongue and was answered immediately. “She is walking nearby,” he told Crystal. “One of my people is close to her.”
Crystal went to Rafe and sat next to him at the fire. “Why can you forgive me and not Alana?” she asked.
Rafe didn’t look at his sister; he just stared at the fire. Finally, he said sullenly, “You were forced into what you had to do; Alana married the man willingly.”
Crystal did not look at her brother; rather, she stared into the orange flames. When she did speak, her voice was low, but her tone was intense.
“You were always a stubborn man, Rafe. Perhaps now is the time to bend a little. Alana followed you across the world. She spent months searching for you, fighting to get any word at all to you. When she heard the report of your death, she almost died herself. Edward Parkins saved her life because he loved her. He searched this entire country looking for you because he loved Alana. He never once tried to take advantage of Alana before or after the report of your death, because he respected not only Alana, but the love she had for you.”
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