by Lily Silver
The crunching of boots around the back of the carriage brought Jinx to Jack’s side.
“Oh, blimey. Had to be him, dinn’it?” He spat on the ground and tugged his rifle belt, adjusting the weapon on his shoulder. “We’ll have to navigate our own way through the hills.”
“It shouldn’t be too hard,” Jack said. “There is only one road.”
The carriage door opened and soft footfalls were heard coming around the back. “Captain?” It was Chloe. “Captain, are we able to proceed—dear God!”
Her soft gasp was all it took to make Jack’s heart seize. Seeing Chloe, hearing her distress, he felt a bullish rage. “Come away,” he ordered, taking her arm and wheeling her away from the corpse. “Jinx, take care of it. Come, now, let’s not be all maudlin. We don’t know the fellow. And we are still in danger here.”
“Did he have a family?”Her voice was riding a wave of panic. “Jack, what have I done? This is my fault. I should have stayed in Cadiz, I should have–”
There were two remedies Jack learned to employ when a woman was reaching the height of hysteria. Either slap her or kiss her. He chose the latter. Jack drew Chloe into his arms and kissed her with all that was within him. His tongue sought refuge in her moist mouth. Her arms went about his shoulders and her lips latched on to his with a desperation mirroring his own.
*
They followed the road east. They stopped for the night at the convent Rodrigo mentioned. It wasn’t actually nightfall, but the women were frightened and fatigued. Jack didn’t feel it necessary to mangle their nerves further today.
The sisters were kind. Jack explained what had happened to them on the road. The sisters immediately offered sympathy and took charge of Chloe and the despondent Marta. Chloe was taking it better now that they were away from the grisly scene. He could see that she was still blaming herself for the random attack and the loss of a man whose name she didn’t even know.
Marta, on the other hand, was coming apart at the seams. She had followed her mistress outside of the carriage and saw the two bodies in the road while Jack was busy distracting Chloe. Shrieking had ensued and it was all Jack could do to wrest himself from the potent kiss with Chloe and clap his hand over the girl’s mouth. They didn’t need to bring any more attention from the desperadoes. All he needed was for them to return and find the little girls Jack mentioned were actually women and there would be hell at their heels. He grabbed Marta by one arm, Chloe by the other, hurried them to the carriage door, and rudely shoved them in.
Once they were inside he gave quick orders for their departure and swung himself up onto the roof of the carriage. Jinx tossed him his rifle and then joined him on the roof.
They arrived at the convent less than an hour later. The driver didn’t spare the horses, at Jack’s express command. Now, Jack wanted a good stiff drink. He intended to go into the stables and enjoy one while he attended the horses, as the women were safe behind the convent gates.
“So, we’re down one man, and likely that fact won’t keep the others close, now that we’ve a dead one.” Jinx opened his saddle bag to retrieve his whiskey flask. He opened it, took a swig, and handed it to Jack. “Did you pay the fools yet? If you have, you know they’re as good as gone come the morning.”
Jack chugged at the flask and handed it back. He wiped his mouth. “I gave them half at the start. They’ll receive the other half when we arrive at our destination. We’ll see what mettle they are made of come the dawn.”
“And the women?” Jinx added. “Will they go further, or hie up here for the next month?”
“That girl we could leave here. I’d pay them to take her off our hands. Chloe’s got bottom, Jinx. She’s not made of glass as you suppose. She’s seen her share of trouble, lived through it. Chloe will be ready to leave in the morning, mark my word.”
“Chloe, is it? That was some kiss, Cap’n.” Jinx chuckled, taking another swig of his nerve tonic—hard whiskey. He swallowed it and shrugged his shoulder to wipe his lips on his jacket collar. “I do mark your words, Captain, and your actions.”
“We’ve been acquainted for years, old friends, Mr. Jenkins.”
Jinx nodded, appearing to consider Jack’s words. “Yep, and old friends kiss with plenty of tongue, I presume?”
Chapter Twenty-One
The sisters of St. Agatha were kind. Unlike the monks, who had cast the women into suspicion, the nuns welcomed them like orphaned children. Chloe was relieved for their kind attentions, as Marta had been worked up into a fine fit of hysteria by the time they arrived at the gates of the Pueblo Blanco settlement. She was able to hand the girl over to two sisters and attend to herself without having to listen to Marta’s frantic chattering.
Chloe was led to a comfortable room by an older sister. The room was sparse, but it had a warmth the monk’s lodgings were lacking. The floor had a rug, and the walls had embroidered samplers on them with religious sayings. Someone saw fit to put a vase of fresh flowers on the small wooden table and left a few leather books on it beside the oil lamp. The window had curtains. What a difference a woman’s touch made.
“Vespers are at six,” Sister Maria told her plainly. She patted Chloe’s arm with a gentle hand. “If you wish to pray with us for the soul of your lost companion. We will light a candle for him, Senora O’Donovan. For now, I will leave you to your solitude.”
“Thank you, sister.” Chloe was relieved by the serene atmosphere and the kindness of the women who welcomed them.
“And your maid? Do you wish her to attend you or shall I return to help you undress?”
“If you would be so kind, sister? Marta deserves one night away from her duties.”
*
Morning light made the room Chloe had been given glow with a soft peach hue. She emerged from her bed and peered out at the interior courtyard. She heard laughter. It was Marta’s youthful laughter. The girl was picking something in the garden with another young woman who could only be a sister as she had the familiar dress and head linens. They seemed to be getting on well. Marta’s changed countenance was a blessing, as Chloe had not wished to be burdened with a high-strung adolescent girl on the verge of hysteria for the remainder of the journey.
Marta saw her and waved up at her, all sunshine and wonder this dewy, golden morning.
“There is my mistress!” She pointed up at Chloe, “Isn’t she beautiful, like the Madonna you speak of. Ma’am, isn’t this a wonderful place?”
Chloe waved and nodded. Marta’s spirits had recovered, it seemed, thanks to the good sister’s care. Chloe moved from the window and started to go through her valise. She wished she had brought more traveling outfits. The one she wore the past three days was no longer clean. It smelled of sweat and had been darkened by road dust. She brushed the blue and brown plaid dress last night in an attempt to tidy it for another day, a menial chore she was not unacquainted with. Chloe had been a personal maid before she became a married woman.
She liked this dress. It was serviceable. Elizabeth helped her choose the fabric. It was cotton, sensible, able to withstand the rigors of the road better than delicate muslin or silk. The matching blue velvet pelisse was the same color as Jack’s eyes.
Jack. The thought of him made her feel odd little pin pricks of excitement in her belly. She smiled softly as she admired the pale blue fabric.
“Ma’am?” Marta’s youthful voice intruded as the girl slipped into her room without knocking. “I thought you would want help in dressing and packing?”
Chloe raised her attentions from the contemplation of her dusty outer garments. “The question hardly requires thought. You are my maid, not a lap pet. It is your duty to assist me.”
She knew she sounded sharp, but the girl had been coddled enough. Marta needed to return to her duties, the better to forget yesterday’s unfortunate incident.
Jack paced in front of the carriage. He glanced at the heavy wooden doors of the convent, arched doors that remained closed. They were in the outer c
ourtyard, before the iron gate, awaiting the ladies so they might take up their journey. The sun had risen hours ago, and still, there was no sign of the women emerging from the sanctified feminine refuge.
“Perhaps they took holy orders in the night,” Jinx teased. “Scared into service for the church. That bunch yesterday might have frightened them into the idea.”
“Not Mrs. O’Donovan,” Jack said, careful to use Chloe’s formal name lest he reveal more of himself than he wished.
“Mrs. O’Donovan,” Jinx chirped, not missing a beat. “Aye, and there is the goddess herself.” He gestured to the small door that had been opened within the larger one.
Chloe emerged, dressed in a somber outfit. Her old mourning dress, Jack realized. She had that oversized bonnet on her head again. Why black? She should never wear black. Rich colors brought out the vibrancy of her eyes and complimented her pale skin.
“What is this?” Jack closed the gap between them, gesturing to her mourning attire.
“My traveling dress and coat are unsuitable for further use. This,” Chloe made a sweeping gesture with her hand down the black ruched silk skirt, “—is the only other gown I have that might stand up to the rigors of this journey. At least it will not show the dirt so.” She smiled at him, as if she thought donning the clothing that signified loss and sorrow was clever.
“Humpff.” Jack grunted, turned on his heel and walked away from her. “Jinx, see that Mrs. O’Donovan and her maid are helped into the carriage. We’ve wasted enough daylight.”
They traveled east of the Sierra de la Nieves and paused at the town of El Quera to rest the horses and eat before they started the journey south to toward Guaro. They would be at her uncle’s villa by nightfall as Guaro was about two to three hours journey south following the mountain road.
Morgan had gone on ahead with his horse to scout the landscape. The mountains afforded them a bird’s eye view of much of the terrain. They stopped unexpectedly a couple of hours later. Jack took Chloe’s arm and led her far away from the carriage, into a small rift in the rocks, away from view of the road. She turned at the sound of hurried footfalls and found Jinx pulling Mara firmly along by the arm. His rifle was hanging from one arm as he followed Jack’s lead by dragging the girl into the protection of the carved rocks.
“Stay here,” Jack said. “And whatever you do, be quiet. Sit here, and wait for us to return for you.” His severe tone made even Marta hold her tongue.
Chloe had sat down on a serviceable rock and folded her hands, obedient as she had promised she would be when Jack thought they were in danger.
Marta sat at her feet. “I left my book in the carriage.” She flicked a dried leave from her skirt.
“I said be quiet,” Jack returned. “Wait for us here.” He looked at Chloe, not Marta. His lips moved, and she saw rather than heard his answer. Soldiers. He made a motion with his hand to indicate said troops were traveling up from the valley below.
A hawk circled above them, screeching warning. Jack left them and Jinx followed. Lt. Morgan came, bearing three rifles in his arms. Two of the hired men carried Chloe’s large trunk and set it a few feet away from her. They disappeared again, following Jack to the road. Morgan climbed up on the rounded stone above Chloe and Marta. He quickly laid out the rifles and then lay flat so he could not be seen from the road. He propped one rifle to his shoulder.
The clip-clopping of horse’s hooves signaled that the carriage was moving further ahead. They were making an effort to hide Chloe and Marta from discovery by the soldiers. Chloe’s neck prickled with goose flesh. She watched the top of the shiny black coach roll slowly past. It gleamed like obsidian in the sunlight. She heard the horses move past her hideaway and wondered what would become of them out here if they lost their carriage and horses.
Several minutes passed with no one daring to speak.
Jack returned, startling the women as he crept behind them without a word or a crunch of gravel. Marta squeaked at his appearance. He put his finger to his lips, gesturing for her to be silent. The girl obeyed. Jack’s posture was rigid, alert, every muscle in his body tense.
The sound of marching echoed from the stone pass beyond. It grew louder, ever louder as the soldiers approached from below.
Chloe looked to Jack. His hand tensed on the barrel of his rifle and his grim expression said enough. Jinx was just visible a few feet from his captain, tense and still as a stable cat waiting to pounce on a rat.
Where were the hired men? Did Jack send them on to meet the soldiers alone? Surely they would betray them if caught by the French. She wanted to ask Jack, but dared not speak at such a precipitous time. Trust him, her heart said; trust him to get you safely home.
The sound of horses and marching increased tenfold in her ears. The infantrymen progressed past their hiding place, muttering as they went. Muted weeping caught their ears–a woman’s weeping. Chloe’s eyes darted to Jack, pleading.
No. He mouthed silently and made a slicing gesture with his hand.
It seemed to take forever before the vibration of the earth ceased. Finally, Morgan sat up and waved to his captain. Jack’s hold on his rifle eased and he stepped close to Chloe. Jinx came close too. Morgan was about to hop down and join them.
“No, stay and watch,” Jack said tersely. “Watch that line.”
Morgan flattened himself again and watched from his perch above the road.
“Forty men at least,” Morgan whispered. “Twelve on horseback.”
“And a woman,” Chloe pointed out. “Can you not do something?”
“I will not leave you unguarded to challenge forty men,” Jack returned hotly. “It would be suicide. And then you would be alone in the wilderness. How would you get to your uncle’s home without me and my men? It’s a long walk to Guaro from here, senora!”
“I would walk. It is less than three hours by carriage. I would make it there eventually. I am not a spoiled child needing your superior guidance.”
“You reason as a child. Threatening to strike out on your own to Villa Almendra, logic and reason be damned. You were safe in Cadiz. This is why I didn’t leave you there. I knew you wouldn’t leave well enough alone and wait for dear old Uncle Miguel—“
“Can we discuss this later?” Jinx snapped. “The soldiers are hardly a mile away.”
Jack scowled and glanced away from the group. His cheek seemed to be quivering. Chloe watched it. His cheek was twitching just on the one side, as if he was under great strain. She guessed he wished to scold her further for her foolish decision in bringing them here to be murdered by the French.
“Captain?” Morgan’s uncertain voice captured Jack’s full attention. “You better come see this.” Morgan waved with his free hand, compelling Jack to climb up beside him.
Jack set his rifle on the ground and crept up onto the boulder. He pressed himself flat, mimicking Morgan’s position and studied the road. “Damnation!”
He scrambled down, and hurried to Chloe’s side, “Two horses are headed this way. Move, now. Away from the road.” Jack grasped his rifle in one hand, gripped Chloe’s elbow in the other, and hurried down the back side of their rocky perch. “Jinx, Morgan, get that trunk out of sight. Put it with our horses.”
Marta was at their heels as they fled deeper into the brush, away from the large boulders that had formed a shield between them and the mountain road.
“Come on, don’t mourn the loss of your fancy gowns or you’ll lose far more before it’s finished. You and your maid will join that woman in providing their nightly entertainment.”
Jack was pulling her along down a steep ravine through bushes and thick roots that tripped her and impeded her progress. Marta was behind them. She helped Chloe up when she fell over a nasty tree root and continued down the ravine holding Chloe’s other arm. They hurried down the ravine and stopped close to the river bed. Finally, Jack pulled them several feet to the right to hide behind the crown of earth and the twisted roots of an upturned tree. The three o
f them hunkered down and hid behind the large blind. Chloe was holding her side, struggling to silence her heavy breathing as they waited for the soldiers to come crashing through the brush on horseback to confront them.
Marta was starting to whimper. The poor child had nerves made of custard. Chloe put her arm about the girl and shushed her. She took Marta’s chin in her hand, stared directly into the girl’s frightened eyes and hissed, “Enough.”
The girl pinched her lips together tightly.
More waiting. Jack was as still as a statue, the gun gripped tight in one hand and his other splayed on Chloe’s back. He was staring intently ahead, at the river. She realized he was listening for any disturbance behind them.
Voices carried from high above the ravine. The soldiers were talking. She couldn’t make it out. Just the low murmur of male voices, nothing more. The steady drumbeat of her heart in her ears made it difficult to hear any words from so far away. She heard the noise of the stream below them and the piercing cry of a bird in the trees above.
After several moments of silence, Jack let go of her. He still held the rifle as he slowly rose up from his crouched position. He peered through the tangled mass of dirt and tree roots that had formed a ten-foot shield between them and the scouts on horseback above. She turned on her heels so she could better see Jack’s face from her low crouch and gauge their situation from the expression therein. His face remained severe as he observed the steep embankment.
The sound of soft footfalls nearby made Chloe clutch Jack’s leg above the knee and hold on, preparing for the worst. It was Jinx. He had his rifle slung over his shoulder. His face, normally relaxed and pleasant, was grave. He stepped close and Chloe released her grip on Jack’s leg. Jack’s hand brushed over her shoulder and across her head, stroking the top of it as he stepped away to confer with his man. Chloe reached up to smooth her hair, realizing she’d left her bonnet in the carriage in their haste to escape detection.
Morgan appeared on the opposite side of the dried, charcoal gray span of tree roots. He pulled his fingers through his chestnut hair. “I think they found the carriage, sir. It’s standing at the side of the gorge about two miles ahead, horseless.”