“You must convince Ramón to give it to me. I can use it to prove Harry was involved with full knowledge of where the arms were going. Ricardo can give me a signed statement he met with Harry in Bimini.”
“No es posible. Our deal must remain a secret. It is urgente.”
“Without evidence, Harry will get away with all he’s done to us!”
“It is for Ramón to decide what is to be done. He will not be pleased at being tricked and betrayed.”
“Then help me convince him Harry is the traitorous culprit.”
Carlos glued his unreadable gaze to her pleading one. “I can only tell him what you have told me; that does not make it true.”
“My name isn’t on the agreement, so I’m not responsible.”
Carlos pointed out, “El nombre de su esposo is, and he had the dinero. That is how Ramón will see it. Qué lástima!”
“If there’s trouble in your camp, convince your leader to punish me, not the others. Let them leave unharmed. Agreed?”
“I can make no promesas for Ramón. It is his decisión.”
It was nearing dusk on Monday when Bahía de Nipe, their anchoring site, was approached. They had sailed within view of Cuba with her inlets, rugged cliffs, sandy beaches, and islets for hours. The hills and mountains of Sierra de Nipe and Sierra del Cristal loomed before them. The tropical air was balmy, and heady fragrances wafted on its currents. Along the irregular coastline, they had seen cultivated areas near the shore, light-green splotches surrounded by dark jade; the terrain had drifted into woods of valuable exotic timber, fruit trees, feathery palms, and mangrove thickets. It continued into fertile valleys and lush rain forests, Carlos told them.
Where the anchor was lowered at their rendezvous point, there were areas of short or no beachline between the ocean and verdant jungle. The water lapping at the hull was a purply blue, which became turquoise near the coast. The bay where they would land in a small boat was sided on the left and right with rocks, against which waves pounded and sent off white sprays.
“We will camp aqui,” Carlos pointed to the beach, “while Joaquin brings my people to get the arms. He will not return until mañana. You and Raquel will camp with me; no other hombres will leave the ship.”
Dan tried to argue in an attempt to leave his love in safety and comfort, but Carlos refused to listen and agree. “She comes with us. No argumento.”
As the boat was rowed to shore by Dan and Carlos, threatening gray clouds hovered above the mountainous region. They passed over coral reefs of various shapes, sizes, and colors. Rachel saw fish darting amidst the rugged and beautiful formations, and pointed them out to the others. Dan took a peek, but the two Cuban rebels did not.
The men dragged the boat ashore, and Dan helped Rachel get out. Their shoes sank into soft ecru sand. Carlos spoke with Joaquin in Spanish. The brutish rebel replied at certain points, nodded several times, and departed. He was swallowed almost immediately by the lush greenery.
Twilight closed in as they settled down for the evening. Rachel’s gaze roamed the terrain that was a fusion of vivid colors and intoxicating smells. Bougainvillea climbed trees and hillsides to decorate them with red, purple, and white blossoms. Lacy frangipani in many shades added beauty to the setting. Other tropical plants, shrubs, vines, and trees were abundant in a wild array of enchantment. Rachel was eager for dawn’s light to let her gaze feast on the alluring landscape, but dreaded what the day would bring.
A hand shook Rachel’s shoulder as she slept on her stomach, dark hair concealing her face. She stirred, turned, and looked at its owner. Her gaze widened in disbelief as she discovered the identity of the “only hope” Phillip had mentioned. The American rebel gaped at her in the same manner, scowled in anger, then pressed a finger to his lips for secrecy.
Chapter 22
“You are Señora Phillip McCandless?” he asked loud enough to be heard by others on the beach.
Rachel stared at him as she replied, “His widow; Phillip is dead.”
“I am Ricardo,” the twenty-three-year-old man said. “I will translate for you. Ramón does not speak inglés.”
“You’re American,” Rachel said evocatively.
“Si, but I have been many months with my amigos. Venga, come.”
“May I… be excused first?”
The man with shoulder-grazing dark-brown hair and matching eyes turned and asked permission in fluent Spanish to grant her request for privacy. Ricardo faced her again and said, “It is fine, but hurry. Ramón is anxious to discuss the trouble between our sides.”
Rachel stood and straightened her skirt. She looked at the roughly clad Cuban rebels, most with lengthy hair and short beards. Dan sat on the ground with his hands tied behind his back; he sent her a smile. Rachel’s mind was too dazed to react. On shaky legs, she vanished into concealing trees to recover her wits and poise while she excused herself. She couldn’t understand why Phillip had kept such a valuable secret. Anger and resentment toward her deceased husband resurfaced.
Rachel fingercombed her disheveled hair as she approached the large group of intimidating men who were studying her with keen interest. She wished she were more presentable and clear-headed for this vital meeting. She looked at Carlos, “Did you tell him everything I told you?” she asked him.
“Sí, Raquel, but he is mucho angry. The rebeliόn does not go well. Spanish soldiers attack and kill our amigos. We need the arms, and pronto.”
She looked at the man Carlos Torres nodded at. He appeared broody and truculent, his eyes as dark as his long and wavy black hair, and they were glacial and piercing. She trembled in dread.
With a deeply lined scowl and gruff voice, the rebel leader spoke to Ricardo, who nodded understanding and focused on Rachel.
“Ramón asks if you comprende how importante the arms are. He wants to know why you have tricked and betrayed him.”
“I haven’t, but it’s a long story.” As she explained the predicament from the beginning, Ricardo observed her and translated. She answered honestly the questions Ramón passed through his American friend and ally. She knew it was safest and wisest for her to be completely honest. When the talk ended, she watched Ramón pace and think. She tried to keep her hungry gaze from feasting on Daniel Slade—or on her brother!
Rachel was filled with a mixture of joy and sadness, of confusion and enlightenment. Richard had grown to over six feet; he was lean and hard and muscular. His olive complexion had been darkened by the tropical sun. He had become more handsome over the six years since she had last seen or heard from him. She wondered if he knew where his twin sister was, as Rosemary had run away a year later. She yearned to hug him, to ask him countless questions, but he had warned her to secrecy of their kinship. To expose it could endanger her brother and further imperil her.
As if he didn’t know the beautiful woman, Richard “Ricardo” Fleming ignored his sister. If he had known she was Phillip McCandless’s wife, he wouldn’t have gotten her enmeshed in this scheme gone sour, a scheme he himself had suggested. How could he get Rachel out of this mess and safely back to Georgia when Ramón wanted to kill her as a threat to the double-crossing Harrison?
The leader came to Richard and talked to him for a while. Rachel got the impression Ramón was asking his trusted friend’s opinion of the matter and of her. She waited with rising anxiety until her brother turned to speak.
“Ramón says the rebeliόn is growing in strength and fierceness. He says he must have the rest of the arms so his hombres can battle for their lives and freedom. Without them, our cause can be lost. He says you must come to our camp until he decides what to do. You and the capitán.”
“Why can’t we talk and decide here…? Is he going to kill us?” Rachel asked in alarm. She didn’t want to get far from the ship or be trapped in the jungle in unfamiliar surroundings and between opposing forces.
“If the ship is sighted, we cannot be near it. Our hombres will unload the crates and hide them nearby. We will return
for them later.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Is he going to kill us?”
“I do not know. He does not know yet. Stay calm and quiet.”
Rachel caught the subtle warning in his last sentence. She also noticed how her brother concealed his emotions with skill and perfection. She was amazed by how much he had changed. If it came to a choice between her life and his loyalty to the cubanos, which would he choose? Considering the odds against them, Richard didn’t have a choice.
“You must understand we can not trust a stranger in wartime.”
Rachel seized the clue “stranger” that said to continue their ruse. “Your friends were with me when I tried to save this deal. Killing us won’t get you the rest of the arms. You’ll only be helping Harry get rid of us. If anyone has your money, it’s him. I would not lie to you,” she vowed, her gaze fused with her brother’s.
Without visible reaction, Ricardo told her words to Ramón Ortega.
Carlos chatted with his leader. It was obvious he was arguing on her behalf and just as obvious that he vexed Ramón. He looked at her and said, “I am sorry, Raquel, he will not listen to me. He says I am bewitched by you.”
She thanked Carlos for trying. “What now?” she asked.
“Sit while we unload the crates,” Richard ordered. “We must hurry before soldiers come and attack. Our lookouts say they are not in this area today, but they might approach undetected by sea.”
Rachel joined Dan, but they didn’t have time to talk, for her love was released just then to escort the Cubans to his ship to fetch the arms and ammunition.
Richard glanced at her to warn her not to try to escape. “La junglas is a dangerous place,” he said, “and you will be shot. If you are hungry, eat while we work. That would be wise, as we have a long walk after when we finish.”
“Do I have to sit here for hours in the sun or can I move around?”
“As long as you do not run away, do as you please.”
“Thank you, Ricardo.”
“De nada,” he replied, a tiny gleam of a smile in his eyes.
“Vámonos, amigos! Dénse prisa!” Ramon shouted for some of the men to get moving and to hurry with their task.
Rachel walked to the shade of the swaying palms and leaned against one. She watched the small group get into Dan’s boat and head for his ship. The others sat on the sand and chatted, occasionally glancing at her. She shielded her eyes against the blazing sun and observed their trip to the Merry Wind. She saw her love, her brother, and the rebels climb aboard. Rachel knew Dan had been warned to make no trouble or she would be slain.
Time seemed to move at a snail’s pace as two boats went back and forth between the coast and the ship to unload the cargo. The men on the beach worked steadily as they carried the long rifle crates and small cartridge cases into the dense jungle for concealment and later retrieval.
When the task was done, Luke and three seamen were ordered to take the boats to the ship to await Ramán’s decision. The first mate looked at his captain with uncertainty and worry. Dan told his best friend to obey. With him and Rachel in the control of the rebels the crew couldn’t risk a rescue battle or get enough men ashore in a group to fight one before taking heavy losses. The boats shoved off and returned to the Merry Wind to keep eyes alert for possible assistance with a daring escape.
Two Cubans were left behind to make certain Dan’s crew didn’t follow the others to attempt a foolish rescue. Before they settled down beneath shady palms, the beach and path were brushed clean of telltale tracks.
The trek to the rebel camp began. Cubans walked in front of and behind the captives, and several took positions beyond and to the rear of the group as lookouts. Ramón Ortega was close to the front of the column on the well-trodden dirt path; Richard journeyed at his side without glancing at his sister. Carlos was assigned to guard Rachel, and Joaquin was farther back with a bound Dan.
The trail ascended into hills and sierras of lush vegetation. The terrain was ruggedly beautiful in its striking wildness. They crossed a savannah where cattle grazed on paraná grass. They saw coconut, payaba, banana, mango, cieba, palm, ebony, and mangrove, its roots above ground. Carlos told Rachel that most of their soil was fertile and could be cultivated year round. She noticed that bougainvilla and frangipani were abundant in many areas, sending forth a pleasurably intense fragrance.
They skirted aldeas, villages, in clearings where ground stolen from the ever-encroaching jungle was cluttered with chozas—shacks, huts, and mud-daubed wattles with thatched roofs of grass or palm branches. Carlos whispered the inhabitants were guajiros, peasants. The excitingly different landscape was verdant and dense. Vines climbed trees and hillsides, many varieties in splendid bloom. Ferns along the path teased at their legs and shoes. Rays of sunlight filtered through unfamiliar trees with thick foliage that was several shades of green and formed a canopy above them. They used a wooden footbridge at one river, to cross. At another point of the river’s winding course, they forded at a shallow spot.
The leader halted them there for a rest and water break. Everyone sat on the ground, but kept silent in the vulnerable location.
Rachel couldn’t see Dan because of the many men between them, but knew he hadn’t caused his churlish guard any problem. She was glad she was in good physical condition, but the long walk in the tropical climate was tiring. She was also glad she had changed into pants, shirt, and boots to make the trek easier. She watched Ramón Ortega from beneath lowered lashes. His body and expression were taut with suspense and attention. The leader’s eyes were in constant motion as they scanned for trouble. She had noticed how brittle and cold they were, and wondered what had made him into such a bellicose man. Perhaps years of fighting had changed him. Ramón couldn’t possibly have been this way always, or her brother wouldn’t be his friend and ally. Yet, what did she know about the kind of man Richard Fleming was today?
She observed how Richard stayed close to the leader, as if his bodyguard and adviser. She yearned to speak privately with her brother. She wondered at his reactions to their unexpected reunion and her peril, but Carlos halted her speculations, as he helped her to her feet, to continue the trek.
Butterflies and other insects darted among exotic blossoms. Birds were numerous and colorful and noisy, including tiny bee hummers and royal thrushes. Carlos pointed out several brilliantly shaded parrots. She noted the humidity had increased to rain-forest level, sultry, but not oppressive. She had seen small animals—lizards, frogs, spiders, and a rodent Carlos called a hutía, which he said was edible. She wondered when they would reach the encampment and how big it was. She knew, from the changing angles of the sun, that they didn’t take a direct route to it, so she didn’t know how far they were from the coast and the ship. Nor could she guess how to return to them if she and Dan escaped. She had tried to pay attention to their trail for later use, but it was too—
“We rest aquí,” Carlos interrupted her thoughts.
A waterfall seemingly burst forth in a rush of white liquid from the dark interior of the jungle and cascaded into a pool of bluish green. Trees, some with long brown pods or exposed roots, cloaked the shoulders of the lovely area. On three sides, tropical flowers and shrubs grew in abundance. Lacy ferns, moss, and lichen in greens and yellows covered banks and rocks of assorted sizes. Sunlight came through an opening in the leafy canopy above the pool, creating a goldish glow. The experienced fighters sat down and sipped from canteens, on alert with rifles across their laps.
“It’s beautiful, Carlos. May I wash my face and hands?”
“Si,” he said, and assisted her over rocks to a solid spot near the pool.
Rachel knelt at the edge, wetting the knees of her pants. She cupped her hands, scooped up water, and drank until her thirst was quenched. She used a handkerchief Carlos gave her to refresh her face. “That feels wonderful,” she murmured. She wished she were alone with Daniel Slade in this romantic and intimate setting. It would be wonderful and
arousing to swim naked and make love here. “How much farther to your camp?”
“One hour,” he replied.
“Do you have more men there?”
“Sí, muchos.”
“Do you think Ramón is softening any toward us?”
“Do not ask questions I cannot answer, but do not be afraid.”
She assumed he was under orders not to reveal anything to her. “Gracias. You’ve been very kind. May I take Dan a drink?” Carlos nodded. Rachel took the canteen he handed to her. She filled it with fresh water and walked to where Dan sat, with Carlos trailing her. She squatted before her love and smiled as she tipped the canteen to his mouth.
Dan’s eyes never left her lovely and flushed face while he drank. When he nudged the container with his chin to indicate he was finished, she removed it. He watched her soak a handkerchief and wash perspiration from his face. It felt wonderful to his sweaty flesh. He smiled when she fingercombed his tousled ebony hair. “I’m a mess, eh?” he asked, happy to have her near to him.
“Not bad,” she replied with a grin. “Do you have to keep his hands tied?” She asked Carlos. “With me in danger, he won’t try to escape.”
“It is an order from Ramón.”.
“Will you ask—”
“No, Raquel; it is not wise to anger him more.”
“It’s all right, Rachel; the rope isn’t too uncomfortable.”
“I don’t like his being helpless in case we run into Spanish soldiers,” she told Carlos. “There’s a war going on here.”
“Just keep a calm head on your shoulders; I’ll be fine.”
She looked at her love. “They have no right to treat us like this.”
“Give Ramón time to cool off and think,” Dan encouraged. “He has to realize the best thing to do is free us to get the other guns.”
“He seems too cold and stubborn to make a truce. He won’t trust us.”
“What about Phillip’s hints?” he reminded. “Will they help?”
Promise Me Forever Page 47