CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“I FOUND HER!” Jacqueline’s breathless pronouncement, gleeful as it was, did little to lift the mood in the kitchen garden. Smythe rolled his eyes and trudged back to close the door.
She skipped up to Eva and Drago and twirled. “A rather cross man named Boyle, whom, by the way,” her voice dropped, “is to deliver tomorrow’s orders, and will exit the front door very soon, didn’t believe my kitten was in the room.” She burrowed her nose into the soft fur of the kitten’s neck. “But he was wrong, wasn’t he?”
She gave Drago a pointed stare, barely managing to restrain a grin.
His eyes glowed with humor and pride. “Well done, little skirt.”
Eva lowered her voice. “Jacqueline, if you are thinking what I think you’re thinking, we’ll all hang before sunset.” That should have scared the girl, at least a little.
“Only if they catch us,” Jacqueline whispered, eyes bright. “Which they won’t.”
It should have scared her, but it didn’t. Eva shook her head in wonder. The young girl had spunk.
“What if we could affect the outcome?” Jacqueline glanced at Edward, currently picking his way across the icy walk toward them, compassion in her gaze. “What if we could prevent the death of innocent lives?”
Drago’s jaw flexed. “He’s still the enemy,” he reminded her in a flat voice.
Jacqueline pressed her lips together and scowled. “Not if he doesn’t want to be.” Her voice almost vibrated with anger and passion.
When Edward motioned for them to begin walking down the garden path, Drago used the opportunity to offer Eva his arm, and she gripped the corded muscle with all the love and desperation in her heart.
The bricks were slick with ice. Twice she slipped and had he not grabbed her around the waist, she’d have fallen. To be honest, it was the warmth of his fingers on the tender skin of her inner arm that had distracted her from watching her step in the first place.
“If we hurry, we can intercept the Second Lieutenant. Eva if you can relieve him of even one of his missives, it will help our cause,” Drago murmured.
“Our cause?” Eva’s heart jumped.
His gaze locked with hers, a smoldering flash filled both with fervor and fury. “I’ve cast my lot in with the Americans. I plan to fight with everything I have, to prevent these British dogs from taking New Orleans.” His eyes were the color of a storm-tossed sea. “On that, I vow.”
Eva could barely breathe. It took all her constraint to keep herself from jumping into his arms and crying both her joy and terror at his words. But now, his life was in danger and the fear of losing him in battle chilled her to the bone. They would fight together in whatever way they could, to help the American cause. To protect the freedom of her country and her people.
Jacqueline looped her hand through Drago’s other arm. “How did you get here? Where are the rest of the crew?”
His mouth thinned and his jaw tightened. “Four of us were captured. The other two were digging latrines with me until I was called away.”
Eva frowned. “Other two? I thought you said there were four--“
Drago turned toward her and the pain in his gaze stopped her breath.
Muscles under the skin of his cheek rippled. “Manuel was killed. Shot by Brighton.”
Jacqueline let out a small cry and her hand flew to her mouth in shock. “Oh no!” Her eyes welled.
Eva’s chest tightened. Manuel the mountain of a man with a tender heart. She reached up and gripped the cross on her rosary. Tears burned the rims of her eyes. She drew Jacqueline into her arms. The sweet girl shook with sobs; Eva stroked her head and murmured what words of comfort she could.
Jacqueline composed herself and wiped her eyes with her sleeve, then stepped on ahead of them. Her thin shoulders still trembled with restrained emotion. The girl was strong, both outside and inside.
They’d almost made it to the edge of the garden where the bricks ended and the mud began when a surprised shout halted them. It was followed by a thud and a pained moan.
“Oh dear!” Jacqueline carefully tiptoed back to Edward, now sprawled on the ground, his forearm at an odd angle.
“Stay in the grass, little lamb,” Drago instructed. “Else there will be a larger pile on the icy bricks.”
Edward slowly sat up cradling his arm. Drago hooked his elbows under the soldier’s arms and easily lifted him to his feet. The young man winced, his lips and face pale with pain. “It’s broken.”
“Indeed, it is,” Eva grinned, ecstatic. God was everywhere.
Edward grimaced then frowned. “May I ask why you are smiling?”
The corners of Drago’s mouth twitched. “She’s thinking about how difficult it will be to load and fire your weapon tomorrow with a broken arm.”
Edward’s face blanked, then he released a long breath.
The sound of the front door slamming shifted their attention from the cadet. Drago glanced at Eva, his steely eyes conveying a silent message. If they were to attempt to steal any of the missives, now was their chance. She drew strength in Jacqueline’s steadfast confidence and nodded. She’d do it.
Now was not the time to dwell on her actions or decisions, whether or not she was breaking a commandment by intending to take something that wasn’t hers to take, or how she’d shed her sense of propriety, right, wrong, and guilt as surely as she’d shed her aspiration to become a nun.
But it all slithered around in her mind anyway like a nest of Racer snakes.
The cadet provided an excellent diversion as the four of them rounded the corner of the main house. Boyle descended the steps, focused on shoving several missives in his shoulder bag. A skinny dog rose and bounced in his wake, probably hoping something edible would fall out. The collision with Drago and the wounded cadet took him entirely by surprise.
“Oof!” he grunted and stumbled into Jacqueline, who lost her grip on her kitten, which vaulted to the ground with an angry hiss. This attracted the attention of the dog, which lunged with an excited yelp, neatly clipping the back of the Boyle’s legs, sending him on his backside with a bark of surprise then a grunt of pain.
They couldn’t have planned it better.
Jacqueline shrieked as the kitten darted beneath the front porch. “Leave her be you mangy, muddy cur!” She dove for the dog and managed to prevent it from squirming under in pursuit.
All this commotion gave Eva the perfect opportunity to reach into the Second Lieutenant’s bag and remove a couple envelopes before he’d even hit the mud. Her pulse raced so fast she could hardly take a breath as she swiftly tucked them into the belt under her scapular.
Boyle smacked the ground with his fist. “You ignorant girl!” He slipped twice before he finally scrambled to his feet, “Look what you’ve done!” Sticky Louisiana mud clung to the back of his breeches, coattails and both hands.
“Terribly sorry,” Jacqueline said, managing to sound contrite. “But, truly, ’twas you who stepped in our path.”
Eva put her arm around the girl, in an attempt to still her mouth before it got her into severe trouble. “We did not see you, our apologies,” she added.
The redcoat narrowed his eyes, face pinched in suspicion. “What are you doing still here?”
Drago gestured to Edward still cradling his wrist. “This soldier fell on the ice and broke his arm. We were on our way to the surgeon.”
Boyle jerked his muddied jacket back into place. “Then be about your business! I’m on an important mission for the general. Step aside.”
“Of course,” Drago caught her gaze and she gave him a slight nod. Silver eyes flickered with pride and she almost grinned.
Boyle let out an annoyed huff and stepped stiffly down the path, clumps of mud plopping off his coat to the ground behind him.
Drago offered his arm once again to Eva. “Come then, Cadet Smythe. Let’s get you attended to.” He steered them toward the field hospital. Jacqueline was still on her hands and knees trying to coax the kitten from its hiding place. “Forget the cat, little lamb. I’m sure she can watch after herself. She’s managed on her own thus far.”
“But...” Jacqueline peered into the dark shadow under the porch, still grasping the scruff of the wiggling dog’s neck. “Oh, bother.” She gave the scamp a stern stare. “You leave that kitten be.” The pup just blinked both forlorn brown eyes at her and gave a languid wave of its tail. Sighing, she released it and seemed pleasantly surprised when it made no effort to dive after the kitten. “Good dog.”
This time it gave her a tongue-lolling grin and nudged her hand with its nose.
Eva shot a quick look at the front door, uneasy with the commotion they’d caused. “We should be on our way.”
With one last longing look toward the porch, Jacqueline followed, with the scruffy canine panting happily at her heels.
“What is it about you and wretched animals?” Edward frowned, glancing at the muddy, burr-matted dog and cradling his arm closer to his stomach. “Do they always follow you wherever you go?”
“It appears so,” Jacqueline flipped a wayward curl from her cheek as she passed them. “After all, you’re still here.”
Eva rolled her eyes. One day, that child’s mouth was going to get her into more trouble than she could handle. Or talk her way out of.
“Halt!”
Eva’s stomach plunged to her toes. Drago’s arm tensed beneath her palm. At the approach of an armed foot soldier, Jacqueline’s face went blank and paled. As calmly as she could manage, Eva tucked her hands into her sleeveless scapular and pushed the missives a bit further behind her belt, then bent them sharply so they hooked over it, before turning.
He addressed Eva. “General Pakenham requested I give you this.” He handed her a small slip of paper.
She let out a small, relieved breath. “What is it?” she asked, unfolding the parchment.
“It’s permission for safe passage back to New Orleans. He wishes for you and your young charges to leave at once and return to the convent.”
This time her smile was genuine. “Please pass our deepest gratitude to the General for seeing to our safety.”
The soldier nodded and gave a crisp bow before spinning on his heel and marching back to the house.
“Finally!” Jacqueline breathed. “A turn of good fortune.”
***
“Thankfully the skin wasn’t broken. There is little chance of a complicated healing process.” The surgeon said in a clipped voice. “However, I am required to find you unfit for service until it heals, which will take a week or more.” He scribbled a note on a torn piece of parchment. “Take this to your commanding officer. I am requesting that he transfer you here. At the very least, you can take on with minor tasks requiring the use of only one arm.”
Eva tried to hide the joy at the news. Edward wouldn’t be going to the front lines after all. Maybe now he’d reconsider and they could persuade him to help Drago escape the encampment.
Private Smythe stood and saluted. “Yes, sir.” He accepted the note, a relieved expression on his face, then addressed Drago. “I must return you to your assigned task.”
Drago dipped his head. “Of course. Lead the way.”
Eva smiled to herself. She’d passed the missives to him just as they entered the tent. She could think of no better home than the bottom of a latrine, newly dug by Drago Viteri Gamponetti.
A few minutes after Drago and Smythe departed, a soldier stepped inside and addressed the surgeon. “Sir, there’s a peddler just arrived with a variety of dry goods and supplies.”
He paused and his eyebrows jumped, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. “Tobacco?”
“Yessir.”
Both men exited the hospital tent. Curious, Eva, and Jacqueline followed, the scrawny dog trotting at their heels. She’d managed to wipe off some of the mud, but nothing short of a good soak was going to get its coat clean. No sooner had they rounded the canopy than Jacqueline squealed, “Tristan!”
The young girl’s brother stood on the running board of a covered wagon. His head snapped around at the sound of Jacqueline’s voice. “Jacquie!” His eyes lit with relief and joy as he hopped down and opened his arms. She ran into them and he wrapped her in a hug, lifting her feet off the ground. “I’ve been worried about you, Biscuit. Is Jules with you?”
Jacqueline nodded, smiling. “He’s tending horses. Are you going home? Can we come with you?”
Tristan cast a wary glance at the contingent of soldiers surrounding his wagon. “If it’s permitted, yes.”
“Here now, what’s this?” The redcoats snapped to attention as General Brighton approached.
“It’s a peddler, sir. Newly arrived from the Carolina Territory. We retained him after learning that he was on his way to New Orleans,” one of the soldiers said.
Brighton’s sharp gaze landed on Tristan. “What business have you there?”
Tristan shrugged. “I am returning home to see my family.” He flicked his hand toward the tents spread across the plantation fields. “I was unaware your troops were blockading the city. I meant no harm.”
Brighton’s eyes narrowed and he addressed the soldier lingering at his elbow. “Sergeant, have you inspected the contents?”
The man gave him a stiff nod. “Yessir. It contains several barrels of tobacco, one of ale, four bumpkins of whiskey and twenty bags of rice weighing about two stone each.”
“Commandeer the entire supply.”
“Yessir!”
Immediately the soldiers swarmed the wagon, shoving the sputtering Tristan aside. “But...but...”
“Consider it a toll for an unmolested passage back to your family,” Brighton said with a sardonic smirk. He pulled a pipe from his inner breast pocket, reached into an opened barrel of tobacco, and removed enough to pack into the bowl.
Tristan scowled. Jacqueline took his hand, a hopeful gleam in her eyes. “Does this mean you’ll be permitted to take us home?”
Brighton looked at them in surprise.
Noting the officer’s attention, Tristan straightened. “This is my sister. With your permission, I’d like to take her and her twin brother back home.” He shot a glance at Eva. “Along with the Ursuline nuns, if possible.” He managed to appear contrite. “You carry the countenance of a nobleman, sir. I’m sure you’d be the first to say that this is no place for women and children.”
Tristan Sauvage. The smooth-tongued gambler had the charm of a gypsy fortune teller. Eva could only stand back and admire his performance.
Brighton slowly straightened like a swan stretching out its neck. “Certainly, but you must leave immediately to avoid being caught in any crossfire.”
Tristan raised his brows. “Crossfire? You have not already taken the city?”
Brighton peered down his nose and snorted. “It will be ours before noon tomorrow, you can be assured of that.”
“Then I must deliver the children to the convent to keep them safe,” Tristan replied, a worried expression etched on his face.
Eva pulled out the missive. “We already have our orders from General Pakenham to leave at once.”
Brighton snatched the paper from her hand, read it then shoved it back at her. “Indeed. See that you collect the children now.” He nodded toward her and Beatrice, who had hobbled up beside her.
“God Bless you for your kindness, sir,” Sister Beatrice said, smiling.
Brighton preened. “Sergeant, find the girl’s brother and bring him here immediately. I want the five of them out of here within the hour.”
“Yessir!”