Kathryn Albright – The Rebel and the Lady (страница 3)
She tucked the paper in her fist and glanced between her mother and father. “What will become of you?”
Father shook his head. “For now I’ll do as the soldiers ask. This General Romero appears to be a respectable man. I do not think we will come to harm.”
He folded her into a hug, and she drew in the scent that was his alone, mixed with the tobacco of his favorite cigar. “Get dressed now. There is little time.”
She turned to her mother. “Mama,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around the woman’s neck and shoulders.
“
A lump formed in Victoria’s throat. Would she ever see her family again? She could not allow herself to believe otherwise. She clamped her teeth together, afraid her parents would see her trembling. She must be strong as her mother said—strong and resilient. Pulling herself up tall, her shoulders back, she memorized her parents’ proud faces. “A Torrez has safeguarded this land for generations. Now it is my turn and I am ready. I will make you proud.”
The first night of their journey north, when Victoria dismounted from her horse, her legs would not obey her. She crumpled to the ground, and only the mare’s intelligence, or perhaps its weariness, kept the beast from trampling her. As conditioned to riding as Victoria had been all her life, she still ached in places she did not know could hurt—her thighs, her knees, her hips. Esteban treated her with courtesy and care but dared not slow his pace to accommodate her. She wouldn’t have wanted it, anyway. She had to get to Juan to warn him. If only her body was as strong as her resolve.
Late into the night of the fifth day, they reached the town of San Antonio de Bejar. The moon cast the church tower and adobe houses in a pale-blue light, the sight surreal in her state of exhaustion. Her eyes kept drifting shut as she struggled to stay in her saddle. Sleeplessness and the aches and pains from the trail had taken their toll. She could barely keep Esteban in her vision. He sat taller in the saddle, alert for trouble as they entered the small town. He’d changed from his soldier uniform into a cotton shirt and canvas pants for the journey. The common peasant clothes along with a serape made it possible for him to ride all the way to her cousin’s door without being challenged. She glanced around, aware for the first time that no one had stopped them, no one had questioned them.
Guards should be posted. The soldiers had no idea that Santa Anna was so close—right on her heels. Things would change once she spoke with Juan. She was sure of it.
Her horse stumbled. She grabbed a hank of mane and adjusted herself in the saddle, as her eyes drifted closed again. The sound of subdued voices carried to her. Vaguely it registered that Esteban had dismounted and talked quietly to a couple in the doorway of an adobe house. They were dressed in their night clothes. She looked up at the starlit sky with the dipper constellation overhead so large and clear. How late was it? A chill went through her and she gathered her heavy cloak closer.
Esteban led her mare down the street and they stopped before another house. A man stepped through the large doorway—her cousin, Juan.
She hurried to dismount, feeling Juan’s firm hands helping her at the last. She turned to face him. Drawn and worried, his face appeared older by more than the passage of two years since she’d last seen him. “The soldiers…you must warn them…” Her tongue, thick and dry, did not want to work.
“You are a long way from home,
“Esteban…” She remembered her manners.
Juan’s lips pressed to together. “He is already getting some food from my cook and then will be on his way.”
“You will let him go? He will not come to harm?”
Juan nodded. “Yes. Although I am afraid he has seen how unprepared we are here and will take that information with him for his own use and that of the Santanistas.”
“We will prepare. We will tell the soldiers at the fort.”
Her cousin opened his mouth to say more, but then clamped it shut, his jaw tightening.
“What is it?” she asked.
“You will learn soon enough. Come inside for now.”
Chapter Two
Jake Dumont paced the length of the small room, trying to rein in his temper. Exhausted after traveling over half the country, he didn’t need the setback Lieutenant Colonel Travis had just thrown in his path.
“What do you mean, he’s gone?” Jake demanded. “Brandon came here to fight. He wouldn’t turn tail.”
“I’m not suggesting he has,” the colonel said from his seat behind the small wooden desk. “Bowie sent him and another soldier to San Patricio five days ago.”
“I was told you were in charge.”
“I am—of the regular recruits. Jim Bowie heads the volunteers.”
It was frustrating enough falling farther behind his brother due to the winter storm that blew through the Arkansas Territory with a vengeance, but then a day out of Béxar his horse had been startled by a cougar looking for an easy meal and had suffered an ugly clawing on his flank. To arrive and find he’d missed Brandon by less than a week had him ready to hit somebody.
He studied the map on Travis’s desk, committing to memory the lay of the land and nearby towns. San Patricio was a far piece to the south.
“What is Brandon’s assignment there?”
“To learn what he can of Santa Anna’s whereabouts and gather more troops.” Travis met his eyes over the hand-drawn map. “He failed to mention that he is a doctor. Didn’t even ask about the hospital here.”
“I don’t think he has healing on his mind right now.”
“No.” Travis’s stare was measuring. “I’d have to agree with you. Rather curious considering his chosen occupation. He was anxious to see some action. Perhaps I provided it for him.”
Jake winced at the arrogant sound of that. Brandon didn’t have any idea what he’d gotten himself into, but Jake did. And it wasn’t all male camaraderie and whiskey. War changed a man, usually for the worse. Especially someone as idealistic as his brother. If Brandon couldn’t see through the designs of one industrious female—the provocation for this foolhardy journey—he certainly wouldn’t be able to comprehend the strategies of warfare and the manipulation of soldiers.
Noting Travis’s perfectly fitted waistcoat and tailored white shirt, Jake wondered if someone so young and full of himself could actually hold the common soldier as important and necessary, or would he see him only as an expendable risk in one officer’s rise up the ranks.
“What is the terrain like to San Patricio?” Jake asked, growing more concerned by the moment.
“Passable—if you follow the river rather than going straight overland. That will take extra time though. A good six days. And I don’t have anyone extra to send with you.”
Jake grunted. “Believe me, if I can find my way here from the Carolinas, I can get there without someone holding my hand.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he considered his options. Fury needed to rest up if that gash was to heal. The horse would obey whatever Jake asked, but that didn’t mean Jake would ride the beast into the ground. Maybe he could leave in a few days and still catch up to Brandon.
A knock at the door sounded and two Tejanos entered the room. One appeared close to Jake’s age of twenty-eight and had the bearing of an officer, although he wore no uniform. Instead, with the split-legged trousers and striped poncho, Jake pegged him as a land owner of some merit. He removed his wide-brimmed hat and held it before him, waiting for permission to speak.
The other looked younger—not quite a man yet, but nearly there judging by the fuzz on his upper lip. His build was slender and bony at the hands and shoulders. He swiped off his hat, stained with grime and sweat, as he stepped up to the desk.
Travis rose from his seat. “Captain Seguín. Diego. Good. You’re back.” He turned to Jake, a new urgency in his voice. “Look—your brother will be back by the end of next week. Why don’t you relax. Rest up a bit. We’re having a party at the cantina tomorrow night celebrating Washington’s birthday.”
Jake raised his brows. “This isn’t the United States.”
“But there are plenty of men from the States here itching for something to combat the boredom. A party should do it. Come have a drink with us.”
It was tempting, Jake thought as he rubbed his scruffy neck again. A shave. A bath. Besides, that mean-looking gash on Fury’s flank had started to fester. He’d stitched it up as best he could, but it was oozing a nasty-smelling discharge. He needed to take care of it. “I might still be here. Where can I find the apothecary?”
“Hospital is up at the fort. Talk to Dr. Pollard. You’ll find lodging there, too—for you and your horse.”
Victoria walked down the street carrying a kettle of chicken soup and grumbling to herself. She had been to the edge of town that morning and still there were no soldiers posted as lookouts. Didn’t the officers understand how close Santa Anna’s army was? Why did they not prepare? It had been four days since she’d arrived in town. She’d expected to help Juan secure his house here and move into the fort—and perhaps prepare the women. No one took her warnings seriously except Juan.