Once a Soldier (Rogues Redeemed) (18 page)

She nodded. “It’s the story, perhaps only a legend, of the founding of San Gabriel. Many, many years ago, the beautiful Deolinda was a Portuguese girl of high birth married to Prince Alexandre, son and heir to the king of Alcantara.”

“This was a Spanish kingdom where the city of Alcantara is now?”

“Yes,
‘alcantara’
means ‘the bridge,’ and that name suits the story. An evil rival for the Alcantaran throne marched his men into the city by night and murdered the king.” Sofia paused to finish consuming her sandwich. “Prince Alexandre bravely fought to his death to allow the escape of his beloved wife.”

“No doubt it was a dark and stormy night,” Justin said solemnly.

“But of course,” Sofia said with twinkling eyes. “In a legend, one never flees for one’s life on a sunny day! Great with child, Deolinda and a loyal guardsman fled north into the mountains and ended up in this valley. She gave birth to her son in a cave near the site of the Castelo Blanco. The archangel Gabriel appeared and said that she and her son would both be made saints, and they would rule a land of peace and plenty, where all could live in safety.”

“It sounds like the legend might be based on a true tale,” Justin said, intrigued.

“I’ve always thought so, for the angel’s prediction came to pass,” Sofia said pensively. “Refugees from Spain and Portugal made their way to the valley, which is why we have names and words from both countries. It was said that only those led by the angels could find their way here.” Her mouth tightened. “And it
was
a land of peace, until the French came.”

“There will be peace again,” Athena said gently. “Already the valley is healing.”

“It’s a fine tale,” Will said as he finished his third toasted sandwich. “If the princess was Saint Deolinda, who was her son?”

“San Gabriel de Montana. Saint Gabriel of the Mountains,” Sofia said. “Named for the archangel, of course, and the country is named for both of them. Because Gabriel came of royal blood, San Gabriel is a kingdom rather than a duchy or a principality, even though it’s so small.”

She rose grandly, took several steps away from the fire before pivoting and saying with exaggerated hauteur, “Kneel before me, peasants, for the royal blood of Alcantara, Spain, and Portugal runs in my veins!”

Her companions laughed at her antics.

Then the clearing erupted with gunfire and danger.

Chapter 24

A
thena was relaxed and a little dreamy from wine, food, and discreet contemplation of Will’s splendid physique when gunshots exploded across the clearing. Multiple bullets ricocheted from the boulders, and the ear-numbing blasts echoed over the gorge and the stony landscape. As she froze in shock, a hoarse voice bellowed in French, “Grab the girl—we haven’t had a camp whore in too long! Kill the British officer and the others!”

Gunshots were still echoing when Will leaped to his feet, yanked his carbine from the saddle behind him, and shouted, “Take cover!”

A bullet kicked up dust where he’d been sitting an instant before. As he dropped to one knee, cocked his weapon, and aimed upward at a sniper atop one of the boulders, he barked, “Athena, grab your gun and
move
!”

Will fired and a scarlet blossom of blood appeared in the center of the sniper’s chest. With eerie slowness, the man and his rifle fell separately to the ground. The weapon discharged harmlessly when it struck. Athena smelled the sharp sulfur scent of black powder and felt the fierce compression of air from the blast of the weapons.

Her brief paralysis ended and she scrambled to her feet as two men in shabby blue French uniforms burst into the clearing. One grabbed Sofia and the other had his rifle aimed at Will from point-blank range.

The Frenchman’s finger was tightening on the trigger and Will was still reloading. Terrified, Athena grabbed the griddle from the fire, spilling toasted almonds from the surface, and pitched the heavy, cast-iron utensil at the rifleman.

The scorching-hot metal disk smashed into his face. He shrieked and pitched backward, dropping his gun and pawing at his eyes. Will’s bullet ended the man’s struggles before he hit the ground.

Athena grabbed her carbine and took cover behind a boulder opposite the French attackers. As she gulped for breath, her gaze swept the clearing through the eye-stinging smoke from the shots that had been fired.

In the seconds that had passed, Sofia’s captor had started to drag her away, but she kicked and screamed and fought like a furious wildcat. Swearing, he lifted her high so her feet were off the ground.

“Sofi!”
As the Frenchman tried to subdue her, Justin lunged after them. His right fist punched into her captor’s jaw as his left hand locked onto Sofia’s arm.

As Justin tried to wrench her from her captor’s grasp, the man swore in filthy French, pulled a pistol from a side holster, and shot. Justin twisted away, but from the way his body jerked, he’d been hit. Even so, he didn’t let go of Sofia.

Still swearing, the Frenchman shoved his pistol back in its holster and pulled out a wicked dagger. Sofia screamed,
“Justin!”
and kicked at her captor’s knee, but she couldn’t prevent him from stabbing Justin.

Justin managed to wrap his arms around Sofia’s waist. His weight dragged her free of her captor’s grip and they fell together, Justin protectively on top.

With the two of them on the ground, Sofia’s captor was a clear target. Grimly, Athena aimed her carbine and shot. She aimed for his chest, since it was the largest target, but the bullet tore into his throat instead. He made a horrible gasping sound and collapsed against the boulder that had concealed him earlier.

Will had vanished. Since he hadn’t fallen in the clearing, he must have gone after their attackers. Swearing at herself, Athena realized that she’d left her ammunition pouch with her saddle and she’d fired the ball loaded in her carbine.

She was about to run to her saddle for her ammunition so she could help her friends when a man charged out from behind the boulder to her left. He was carrying his rifle, but skidded to a stop just before colliding with Athena. His eyes widened with shock, possibly from the surprise of running into a woman taller than he.

Not waiting for him to recover, she gripped the barrel of her empty carbine and swung at his head with all her strength. The heavy stock smashed into his temple and dropped him in his tracks. Will was right—an empty firearm made a good club.

More gunshots were fired from not far away. Three or four, it was hard to tell with the echoes. After enough time to reload, another two or three shots.

Then, silence.

Athena grabbed the fellow’s rifle and cautiously emerged from her refuge behind the boulder. A bloodstained Sofia knelt over Justin, sobbing his name as she rolled him over to examine his wounds. As she crossed to join Sofia, Athena scanned the clearing.

No French soldiers in sight except for the fallen; no sounds of men approaching, though with the background noise of the cataract it was hard to be sure. The sounds of water were how the French devils had managed to sneak up on them, she realized.

Athena reloaded her carbine while keeping a wary eye out for new threats. “How is Justin? How are
you
?”

“I . . . I’m fine,” Sofia said in a choked voice. “Justin is breathing, but there’s so much
blood
!”

Athena joined her, kneeling on Justin’s other side and setting the carbine and French rifle within grabbing distance. The pistol shot had wounded him in the head, and blood poured from his scalp, as well as the knife injury. To her relief, Justin’s eyes fluttered open. “Still here,” he whispered. “But I’ve . . . been better.”

Relieved that he was coherent, Athena ordered, “The head wound doesn’t look serious. Sofi, bring towels from your saddlebags, my cooking knife, and a basin of water from the spring.”

Sofia gulped and scrambled to her feet. Her white shirt and tan riding skirt were garish with bloodstains as she raced to obey.

While she waited, Athena ripped open Justin’s shirt along the slashed linen. A bloody laceration started at his right shoulder and cut halfway to his waist.

When Sofia handed her several small towels, Athena rolled one and pressed it along the knife wound to slow the bleeding. Then she sponged the head wound clean so she could examine it better. “The ball only grazed you, Justin,” she said calmly. “Head wounds bleed dreadfully and you’ll have a beastly headache, but it doesn’t look like there was serious injury.”

“Scots have . . . hard heads,” he managed before his eyes closed again.

Athena used the knife Sofia had brought to slice a towel into smaller pieces. “Did you bring a flask of brandy on this trip? We need some to clean the wounds.”

“No Alcantara travels without brandy.” Sofia tried to smile before returning to her saddlebags for a silver flask engraved with the Alcantara arms. When she returned with it, she sat on Justin’s other side and gripped his hand with hers as if she could heal him by sheer force of will.

Athena cleaned Justin’s head wound again, then opened the brandy flask. “Justin, this will hurt, but it’s necessary to prevent infection.”

“Save some . . . for me to drink,” he whispered.

“You’re a credit to your Scots ancestors.” She trickled the brandy over the head wound, then bandaged a fabric pad over it.

Turning her attention to the knife slash, she cleaned it first with water. The bleeding had already slowed. “Like the head wound, this is messy but not deep, Sofi,” she said reassuringly.

“That’s because the French soldier didn’t know the proper way to knife a man.” The voice was Will’s and Athena looked up to see him striding across the clearing toward them.

Easygoing Will had been transformed into a cool, lethal officer, a man who could react to danger in a heartbeat. An officer with blood staining the white shirt under his open red military jacket. Athena’s heart almost stopped at the sight. Even though he was walking easily and had several long French rifles in one arm, she could barely breathe.

He said reassuringly, “Not my blood, but how is Justin?” He frowned at the sight of his friend.

“A bullet graze on the head, a knife wound down my chest, neither very serious if Athena is to be believed,” Justin said in a thin, rasping voice. “What, pray tell, is the correct way to knife a man?”

“Hold the dagger underhand and strike upward,” Will explained as he set down his carbine and the collected French rifles. “One is much more likely to strike vital organs that way. Your attacker stabbed downward and hit mostly bone over your shoulder and ribs. Poor training, for which we can all be grateful. I agree with Athena. Your injuries look messy and painful, but no lethal damage.”

“Thank
God
!” Sofia breathed out; her face was ghost pale.

Athena felt much the same. When this was over, she wanted to find a place where she could quietly faint. Or scream.

Later. Over the years she’d had experience treating injuries and those skills were needed now, but there was no reason for Sofia to see her beloved being treated for wounds that could have killed him. “Justin is doing well, Sofi,” Athena said. “You don’t need to watch the rest of the bandaging process.”

“You’re right. It isn’t good for a princess to tremble like a blancmange,” Sofia said with unsteady humor. After brushing a light kiss on Justin’s forehead, she stood and moved to her saddlebags, then folded onto the ground and buried her head on her crossed arms as she drew deep, slow breaths.

When Will moved closer to help with Justin, Athena saw that he had a nasty powder burn on the left side of his neck. She swallowed hard and tried to sound calm. “The blood might not be yours, but I see you were almost shot in the throat.”

“
Almost
doesn’t count with bullets,” he said with a shrug. “Do you need more brandy, or is Sofia’s flask sufficient?”

“Save yours for drinking,” she advised. “We’ll all need some.”

“Use Will’s brandy for medicinal purposes,” Justin murmured, his eyes closed. “Sofi’s is better for drinking.”

“I am corrected by the expert,” Athena said, amused as she twisted the top back on the royal flask. “Will, besides getting your brandy, do you have some old garment that can be used for a bandage around Justin’s chest? The towels aren’t long enough.”

Will foraged in his saddlebags and produced a worn brandy flask and a long white cravat, which was well suited to bandaging. As he returned with them, he said, “I didn’t know that treating the wounded was one of your many skills, Athena.”

“I don’t faint at the sight of blood, so I’ve been pressed into service before,” she explained as she patted a clean towel along the knife wound. Justin’s bleeding had largely stopped.

“My brother faints at the sight of blood,” Will said as he opened his more humble brandy. “Mac is a big, broad fellow like me, so he finds it a great embarrassment.”

“I’ve seen other big, broad men faint like that. I’m glad you’re not one of them.” She smiled crookedly. “That would be inconvenient.”

As Athena applied brandy along the knife slash, Justin jerked before forcing himself to calm. “Can I have some of Sofi’s brandy?” he asked in a strained voice.

“You’re a brandy snob,” Will said as he opened the Alcantara flask and carefully poured a small amount into Justin’s mouth.

Justin swallowed. “It’s my job. Just like yours is remaining vigilant as you’re doing now.” He took the flask from Will’s hand and sipped more.

Athena realized that Justin was right. Though Will was relaxed enough to banter, at the same time he was keeping sharp watch on everything around them.

As she finished bandaging Justin’s chest and spread a blanket over him, she asked, “Will, do you know how many attackers there were? Were they all wearing French uniforms? If so, don’t they know the war is over?”

“All the men I saw wore shabby, battle-worn uniforms. My guess is that not everyone in the army wanted to surrender, so this lot turned to banditry,” he said with a frown. “As to how many, there are five dead men that I know of, but I found six saddled horses back along the track and I see that you collected a French rifle. What happened?”

“One came after me when I took cover behind that boulder,” she said. “My gun was empty, so I bashed him with the stock. He went down hard, but I don’t think I killed him.” She hoped to God that she hadn’t. Shooting Sofia’s captor was more than enough death dealing for one day. “I’m sorry, I forgot all about the fellow.”

“I hope he didn’t wake up and run off. It’s time we got some answers.” Will rose and went in the direction indicated, returning a few moments later hauling Athena’s victim with a strong grip under the fellow’s arms.

The French soldier was groaning and starting to move. Will propped him against a boulder in a sitting position, then tied his wrists with a handkerchief. He was skinny and underfed, more boy than man. Athena gave silent thanks that he was still alive.

In fluent French, Will asked, “Who are you and why are you in San Gabriel?”

The boy groaned again and didn’t answer. Across the clearing, Sofia rose and claimed the basin, scooped it full of cold spring water, then dumped it over the French soldier’s head. As he sputtered and swore and thrashed about, Sofia withdrew and watched him with narrowed falcon eyes.

Will gave Sofia an approving nod. “Now that we have your attention, I ask again. Who are you and what brought you to this remote area to attack innocent people?”

The Frenchman stared at Will hopelessly. “Why should I talk? You will kill me anyhow.”

“Not necessarily,” Will said calmly. “Let us begin with names. I’m Major Will Masterson. And you are . . .” When the Frenchman hesitated, Will asked, “What harm can it do to tell me your name?”

Reluctantly the boy said, “Jean Marie Paget.”

“Thank you. Your uniform has the markings of a corporal. Is that accurate?”

“I was to be made a sergeant after . . .”

When Jean Marie stopped, Will asked, “After what? I have a powerful desire to find out why French soldiers are so far from home. Or do you no longer consider yourself a soldier of France?”

“Always!” the corporal spat out.

“Even though your emperor has abdicated and disbanded his forces?”