Once a Soldier (Rogues Redeemed) (11 page)

Gilberto said cheerfully, “If she has forgotten me, no matter. She has younger sisters. One of them might do.”

Beatrix snapped a kitchen towel at her brother’s head. “Swine!”

Laughing, he rose to his feet. “A reminder that the oldest daughter in a family has the worst temper, so I should pick a younger one.”

His sister shrieked and prepared to snap the towel again. He caught her in his arms. “I have missed you so, Beatrix!”

Mollified, she hugged him back. “It’s good to have you home, my pig of a brother. May the other troops also be home soon.”

“They will, but in the meantime, we must make San Gabriel stronger. Papá, Major Masterson? I shall collect the maps of the valley. When you have finished eating, come to my father’s office and we shall begin our work.” With a bow toward his mother and Athena, Gilberto left the room.

Will and Señor Oliviera finished their meals and rose. Will sent one swift, warm smile toward Athena before he followed Señor Oliviera to the office.

And that was the last she saw of him for a week.

Chapter 14

J
ustin Ballard frowned at his ledger book, wondering how long it would take for the port-wine-shipping trade to recover now that the war was over. Demand was still strong—fine wines were always popular. But supplies were scarce because many Douro Valley vineyards had been hard hit and new vines took years to become productive. In the meantime, Justin was not as busy as he would like to be.

A tap on the door was followed by the cheerful face of Pia, one of his maids. “Mr. Ballard, there is a Sergeant Murphy here to see you.”

It took Justin a moment to place the name and remember that Murphy was Will Masterson’s batman. Feeling a clutch around his heart, he rose and strode toward his front hall. “I’ll see him now.”

He found the young soldier admiring the painted tile mural of a terraced vineyard that covered one whole wall of the entrance hall. Not bothering with the pleasantries, Justin asked sharply, “You have news of Will Masterson?”

“Yes, sir, and Major Masterson is well,” Murphy said reassuringly, a pleasant Irish roll to his words. He held out a sealed letter of several pages. “He sent me to deliver this message.”

The thick bundle was much more than a standard letter. “Do you want to wait for a reply?”

“Yes, sir, you’ll see when you read it.”

“Then join me in my office while I read. Pia, bring refreshments for Sergeant Murphy.” Gesturing for the sergeant to follow, Justin returned to his office and settled behind his desk. He broke the wax seal and started to scan Will’s familiar clear handwriting.

Justin’s brows arched when he scanned the listing of desired supplies, including nails, saws, hammers, and other tools. This would not be inexpensive. Will could certainly afford it, but the question was why he wanted to. “What on earth is Masterson planning to build?”

Murphy swallowed a bite of the sliced ham that was on the tray of refreshments Pia had just brought in. “A bridge. Among other things. The French did a lot of damage and took most of the pack beasts and tools and anything else they could easily steal.”

“I’ve never been to San Gabriel, Sergeant Murphy. Can you explain why Will has taken such an interest in the place?”

“It’s a fine little valley with good people and it does need help, but many places do when armies have passed through.” Murphy grinned. “San Gabriel, though, has a lady.”

“Masterson is interested in her?” Justin said, surprised. Will enjoyed the company of females, but he’d never been a womanizer.

“Yes, and a very fine lady she is. English and well respected in San Gabriel and near as tall as I am.”

And Murphy was taller than Justin. She sounded like a good match for Will. Beginning to smile, Justin said, “The lady and the country sound interesting.”

“Aye, sir. A pretty place with many fine ladies.”

From the gleam in Murphy’s eye, Justin suspected he’d found a lady of his own. Justin studied the list more closely. It was a little late in the season for planting grapevines, but San Gabriel was high in the mountains, where spring came later, so the plants would probably establish themselves well enough. The listed grape varieties all flourished throughout the Douro Valley and its tributaries, and he knew farmers that always kept their extra cuttings after the annual pruning of the vines. They’d be happy to sell the surplus.

There were also plenty of men in Porto looking for work, and some of them were seasoned vineyard workers. None of the other requested supplies presented much difficulty, though he’d have to use personal connections to acquire black powder.

After a swift mental calculation, Justin said, “We can be ready to leave in three days. I hope you’ll stay here, Sergeant Murphy, since I’ll need your advice on some of these things and I also want to know more about the situation in San Gabriel.”

Murphy’s grin broadened. “The major will be right happy to have you, sir. The sooner we can leave, the better.”

Smiling, Justin began scribbling notes in the margin of the letter. He’d been in need of an adventure, and now one had appeared.

Chapter 15

“G
ently, gently!” Will called out as the huge waterwheel was guided into the millrace so that the axle could be inserted and secured in place. Ever since French troops had wrecked the mill, the wheel had been lying half submerged in the river.

Since Will didn’t have the materials to rebuild the bridge yet, he’d proposed rebuilding the mill and had recruited a couple of dozen strong young men to do the heavy lifting. Millstones and waterwheels were hard to destroy, so mostly this was a matter of putting the pieces back together.

Inside the thick-walled stone building, the massive millstones that would grind the grain into flour had been remounted earlier in the morning. Will and the mill owner, Señor de Sousa, had repaired and repositioned the complicated gears that transmitted the power of the river to the millstones.

The last step was raising and remounting the waterwheel. Will had calculated where to anchor pulleys on the wall of the mill, and the young men were now hauling on them to pull the wheel upright so it could be remounted in the millrace.

With a squeal of wet wood on metal, the wheel was secured in place and immediately started turning as the river current pushed against the blades. The workers cheered and splashed more water at each other.

Will held his breath while Señor de Sousa engaged the gears. The runner stone on top began turning against the stationary bed stone below. Success! The gristmill was back in business. The mill owner gave a whoop of joy. “Praise the Blessed Mother and all the saints! And thank you, my friends, for aiding me. Now, we feast!”

Will found the mill repair a satisfyingly physical project after a week of canvassing the valley with the Olivieras. Memories of the French invasion were still vivid, so most Gabrileños welcomed the proposal to form small military defensive districts to provide safety and swift reactions if there were more attacks.

As Will had told Athena before the journey began, he stayed in the background and let the Olivieras do the explaining and persuasion, but his uniform was welcomed. The British were popular in San Gabriel. Quietly he evaluated the defensible merits of manor houses and caves, and also inventoried water sources, weapons, foodstuffs, and other supplies that would be needed to create safe refuges.

The work kept him busy and so tired that thoughts of Athena didn’t keep him awake all night. Instead, he dreamed of her, and woke up yearning. And burning.

Reinstalling the waterwheel was wet work, and Will was saturated. Luckily, the day was warm. He was drying his face with a small, ragged towel when Gilberto approached. “A good day’s work, eh, Major?” the younger man called.

“Indeed it is. Now it’s time to return to Castelo Blanco,” Will said. “The supplies I ordered should be here in the next day or two.”

“Later to the castle, but as Señor de Sousa said, first we feast to celebrate rebuilding the mill,” Gilberto said. “See, coming down the castle road are carts and ladies. Such a celebration is traditional when many work together for the common good.”

Will looked back along the road that led to the castle. His pulse quickened when he saw Athena and the princess riding in front of the carts. There were a dozen other females, all dressed in their festive best. Thinking that Athena was a sight for hungry eyes, Will said, “I like this custom!”

When the cart reached the mill, both ladies and food were greeted with enthusiasm. Gilberto’s mother and sisters had come with several girls from the town. Amid much laughter, knee rugs were spread out on the shaded embankment and baskets of food and jugs of wine were unloaded from the cart under the supervision of Señora Oliviera.

Will skirted the crowd and headed to Athena, who was admiring the churning waterwheel from atop her horse. She used a sidesaddle today and her green riding habit made her complexion look like delicious cream. He wanted to lick her all over.

“Good day, Lady Athena!” He couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “I’m told this kind of celebration is customary. What a very civilized country San Gabriel is.”

“True, but don’t discount the lure of seeing a large number of handsome young men in their shirtsleeves and wet to the skin!” She was regarding Will with undisguised approval, and he was abruptly aware of how his wet white shirt clung to his shoulders and torso. Barely decent, in fact, but he liked the expression on her face.

“Behold an engineer in his native habitat,” he said with a sweeping bow.

“Is your current state typical of a military engineer?”

“Usually there’s more mud. I enjoy splashing around on a pleasant day like this one.” Freezing water and artillery fire had made such projects less appealing in places like Badajoz. But that was the past. Now was better. “May I help you dismount?”

She hesitated a moment. Athena was perfectly capable of dismounting on her own and they both knew it, but a gentleman’s offer to help a lady from her horse was an excuse to touch. Will was pleased when she nodded and slid down into his waiting hands.

For just an instant he continued to hold her slim waist. She had a delicious tangy scent of rosemary, and he saw in her eyes that she remembered their evening on the rooftop as clearly as he did.

As he stepped away, she said a little breathlessly, “I’ve realized that the relationship scale needs another category. Flirting. Enjoying each other’s company with a bit of romantic awareness, but no intention of going beyond.”

This was promising. “An excellent idea. Let us restructure the scale into four categories. Friendship, flirting, a love affair, and marriage.”

She tethered her mount. “Indifference and enmity are still possibilities.”

“I could never be indifferent to you,” he breathed. “And I’ll do my best to insure you never look on me as an enemy.”

She blushed and looked down to tie up the trailing skirts of her riding habit. “You are certainly flirting now, so the new category must be accepted.”

He smiled. “I am definitely flirting. I have been waiting all week for the opportunity to do so.”

“That goes beyond flirting to shameless flattery,” she said, amused. “Was your work this past week successful?”

“Yes, no one has forgotten General Baudin, so just about everyone liked the idea of strengthening their ability to resist marauders of various sorts.”

“Good! I want to hear details.” She turned to her horse and took a lightweight, coarsely woven knee rug from her saddlebag. “The custom at these informal celebrations is to sit on rugs and chat and eat. The ladies bring their own rugs and usually stay in one place while the gentlemen tend to move around. It’s interesting to watch.”

Will took the rug and shook it out in a patch of shade from a clump of spindly trees. The striped pattern was in natural shades of sheep wool with a few grass stains from prior usage. “Since many of the young men are recently returned home, I imagine there’s a great deal of flirting.”

Athena gracefully seated herself on one end of the rug, her knees tucked to one side. “I’m a chaperone and my job is to insure that the flirting stays within acceptable bounds. Gabrileños love a good time, and celebrating community efforts is a perfect excuse. Of course there’s also the exhilaration of the war ending.”

“Am I allowed to share your rug?”

“If you are willing to align yourself with a staid chaperone, please do.” Her words were prim, but her hazel eyes danced.

He laughed and settled on the rug, which was large enough for two tall adults to sit without touching. He wished it were a bit smaller, but then he might be less welcome.

“Were the districts you tentatively sketched out workable?” Athena asked.

“Yes, Señor Oliviera seems to know every hill and field in the entire country, so his original estimates were accurate. In a couple of places, access to water meant adjustments might be made, but, overall, the organizing went very smoothly.”

“What is needed most?”

“More weapons and more food supplies that will keep indefinitely, like beans and rice,” he said promptly. “Bringing in food is easy and not very expensive, and I hope we have time to do it. Weapons are another matter.”

Her brow furrowed. “How well can the strong points be defended?”

“That depends on the kind of assault,” he said. “The Gabrileños’ traditional construction style of high stone walls around a house, a well, and outbuildings makes it very easy to lock out casual bandits who want to sweep in and steal what they can. But a larger, better-armed, more determined gang of brigands is much more dangerous, especially if they’re willing to lay siege.”

Athena frowned. “I hope your itchy feeling of trouble coming means casual bandits, not the more determined kind. The weapons situation will improve when Colonel da Silva and the rest of the troops return.”

“Yes, and that can’t be more than a few weeks off,” he said reassuringly. But his sense of danger suggested worse than casual bandits, and in the not very distant future. He’d like to think he was wrong, but his sixth sense had been very reliable in the past.

A laughing girl from the town approached and offered them a tray that held clay cups and a mound of warm little pastry pockets rather like English Cornish pasties. Will accepted wine and three of the little pies. “Thank you, señorita,” he said. “Rebuilding gristmills is hungry work.”

“Our thanks to
you,
Major Masterson. My mama was almost out of flour.” She bobbed a curtsy and darted away.

The pies had a spicy filling that was mostly beans, onions, and peppers with garlic and sharp, interesting herbs. Will demolished the first in two bites. “I gather this is the Gabrileño version of the empanada, but with different spicing? Tasty.”

Athena handed him one of several napkins she’d brought along. “Yes, though in more prosperous times there would be some meat, probably smoked pork, mixed in with the vegetables.” She ate her empanada more neatly, but with enthusiasm.

The red wine was cool and sweetly tangy with bits of chopped fruit. “And this is the Gabrileño version of sangria?”

“Yes, this particular wine is rather coarse, not the best quality, so adding fruit disguises its faults. It’s lovely on a hot day like this.”

Thinking how freely wine flowed in the valley, he asked, “How long till the wine reserves are exhausted? Existing supplies won’t last forever.”

“There were several years of very good grape harvests before Baudin’s invasion, so supplies were high,” Athena replied. “There isn’t a household in San Gabriel that didn’t have a few barrels of wine stored in the back pantry or cellar. But you’re right, reserves are running low. If the wine storage caverns can be opened, the barrels there will last quite a long time. Ideally, until the local wine production is back to normal.”

Exquisite in a blue-and-gold habit, Princess Sofia was moving among her people, thanking the men who had volunteered their time and chatting and laughing with everyone. Will’s idle gaze followed her. “Sofia takes her responsibilities seriously.”

“She does indeed. During the time you were gone, there were three days of open court at the castle. It’s another Gabrileño custom,” Athena explained. “Anyone in the kingdom can present a petition or bring a dispute to the ruler. Since Prince Alfonso is no longer capable of presiding, Sofia has taken over. She’s very patient and listens carefully before rendering her verdict.”

Will gave Athena a quizzical glance. “Surely, you’re there to help.”

“Sofia confers with me before rendering judgment,” Athena admitted. “She tends to be a little too soft, so I encourage practicality. But I stay well in the background. She’s the princess and she mustn’t seem to be overinfluenced by a foreigner.”

“We and our aid are warmly welcomed here,” Will said quietly. “You’ve been a godsend to San Gabriel. But ultimately we’re outsiders.”

“I’ve always been an outsider everywhere,” she said in an almost inaudible voice.

He wanted to wrap an arm around her shoulders and tell her that with him, she’d always have a place she belonged, but not yet. It was too soon. He said only, “But less of an outsider in England, surely.”

She smiled with determined cheer. “I hope so.”

Caught by movement in the distance, he shielded his eyes with one hand and peered along the road that led into Portugal. A slow smile spread over his face as he saw a compact, dark-haired man leading a well-loaded pack train. “I do believe our nails and beans and black powder have arrived.”

“Ballard is here already?” Athena almost bounced with excitement. “Wonderful!”

Will got to his feet. “Are there enough empanadas and sangria to refresh Justin and the men he brings with him?”

Athena laughed. “There is never a shortage of food at Gabrileño festivities.”

“I’ll bring him to meet you.” With a grin, Will headed to his horse. Real progress was being made; and the sooner he’d done what he could for San Gabriel, the sooner he could go home.

Preferably with Athena beside him.