Carla Kelly (17 page)

“We should take this with us, and hurry to the border,” she said.

“Well, yes and no,” Jesse replied. “Since I command such a large army of my own here, I propose this instead, my dear. While Dan and I conduct a little clinic this morning in the village, will you copy these two pages? I want to put the originals back in Souham’s saddlebags, then turn his horse loose. Let’s allow the general to find his horse again, and not suspect that anyone has the information in the saddlebags, eh?”

She nodded. “We’ll be on foot to the border?”

“Alas, yes. That other horse is so old that it probably pulled a plow for Methuselah, and the wagon is too heavy. Father Esteban thinks that farmers will give us rides along the way, and I can pay our way by holding sick call in the villages.”

She nodded again. “I’ve never minded walking.”

He hesitated, and she felt her doubts returning. “That’s
another matter I want to discuss with you and Daniel. And here he is. Dan, sit down. I have rather a large favor to ask you, but first, I want your professional opinion.”

“Do you think it is worth anything, after last night?”

Jesse smiled patiently. “Dan, you’re exasperating, at times. Why should you know anything about childbirth, anyway? It is not our usual wartime dilemma. No, Dan, I want your professional opinion about our soldiers.”

Daniel’s face was flushed, but he swallowed, then raised his eyes to Jesse’s. “I think that Marlow could probably walk if he had to, but the other two will die.”

“My opinion precisely.” He took a deep breath. “I am going to propose that you remain here in Santos with the men. Father Esteban assures me that the village will hide you, but I am not going to tell you it will not be dangerous. By this afternoon, I believe the French will be everywhere.” He put up his hand when Daniel opened his mouth. “No, think about it for a moment. We could leave the men here, and you could come with us. They would probably survive.”

Daniel was silent a long moment. “We don’t know that, do we?”

“We do not, my friend.” Jesse touched Dan’s hand. “I should stay, but I feel I must get to the border with this information.” He sighed. “And there is Bones.”

“I will stay.” Dan looked at Elinore. “What about Nell?”

Elinore held her breath, then let it out slowly when Jesse took her hand. “Elinore, Senora Ramos said you could remain with them. If you were working as a maid there, I doubt the French would even know you were in the village. In the spring when the army returns, I could retrieve you.”

“No,” she replied, her voice low. She moved her fingers in his grip, and he tightened it. “No. I can’t stay here without you.”

“It might be safer,” he argued.

She shook her head. “There is no safety anywhere in this world, Captain. You know it and I know it. Consider this: my Spanish isn’t very good, but yours is worse.”

She could not avoid the uncertainty in his eyes, and then his humor at her words. “You’ll keep me out of trouble, eh?”

“And you’ll get me to the border.”

He released her hand. “I did promise that, didn’t I?”

“And a lot of other things, too,” she told him. She took a deep breath. “Get me a pen and paper. I have work to do.” She looked at Father Esteban, who stood by the door. “I believe Father is here to remind you two that you have promised a sick call this morning, and didn’t you say the French were coming? Must I remind you both that right now Major Sheffield would be looking at his watch, tapping his foot, and muttering about the slackness in the medical corps? Really, Captain! Set me a good example.”

I can’t believe that came out of my mouth, Elinore thought as Jesse stared at her, then glanced at Dan, who was already smiling and on his feet. In another moment there was paper in front of her, and a pen and inkwell. Well-done, Elinore, she told herself, and pulled the French battle plans closer. She looked up. Jesse was still standing there, and she couldn’t interpret the look on his face.

As she sat still, he leaned over behind her, put both arms around her, and leaned on the table, his face close to hers. “Elinore, you’re too polite. You
know
that Dave Sheffield would have growled at me and said, ‘Captain, pull your finger out of your arse, wash your hands, and get busy.’ ”

She laughed, and gave him a little prod with her elbow. He still did not move, and she felt her body grow warm in places she had not expected. Goodness, but he is a distraction, she thought. “Go away now,” she said. “I have to get busy and…” She stopped when he kissed her ear, which made her feel even warmer in that cold room.

“Elinore, I do believe you are a martinet,” he said. “Why is it that a man doesn’t learn these sad facts before he is married?”

And then he was gone, following Daniel out the door and picking up his medical satchel as he went. She shook her head, dipped the pen in the inkwell, and began to copy the report. The pleasant warmth spread up to her stomach. “H’mm,” she said.

“Tell him to open wide and say
ah
.”

Jesse pushed up his sleeves and peered down yet another throat, this one belonging to a child held against his will by his mother. It had been a morning of bruises, sore throats, minor burns, and one boil to lance, but nothing
that required his full attention. It gave him time to think of Elinore, usually so quiet and tractable, ordering him about. The funny part was, he didn’t mind. He wanted to peer down the last sore throat, go back to the room where she sat copying the paper, pull her onto his lap, and see what she would do. And still I have no time, he thought. Hippocrates, this is not fair, and you know it.

“Tell this little beast’s mama to give him a spoonful of honey every hour, and lots of water.”

He waited while Father Esteban translated, and listened for his rendition of the woman’s heated response. “She tells me that is what she is already doing. Can’t you do better than that?”

“Father, I had nothing left in my satchel when we left Burgos yesterday!” he declared. “Honey and water are probably the best remedy, anyway. No, wait, don’t tell her that.” He looked in his satchel again, hoping for the appearance of some grandiose medicament that would impress the woman.

At a loss, he dug deeper in his satchel. After a moment’s search, all the while deeply aware of the woman’s angry eyes, he came across the packet of sugar and the tea tin that he carried. I hope you’re not watching, Hippocrates, he thought as he sprinkled some of the sugar with a little alum into an empty pill envelope. He handed it to the woman as he spoke to the priest. “Tell her that this is to be used quite sparingly, because it is so potent,” he said, grateful that his old
maestro
was safely teaching in Milan, and nowhere near such heresy from his favorite student. “She is to sprinkle a pinch of it in a glass of boiled water—mind you, it must be boiled water—let it dissolve entirely, and then make sure her boy drinks it all. This must be given one half hour after the honey, or it will not be effective. Better tell her to hold his nose while he swallows, so he won’t notice the taste.” And pray God I am long out of town, in case she decides to dip her finger in the sugar and finds out what I have prescribed.

Mercifully, the next patient—an old woman—wanted to talk about her multitude of ailments. All he needed to do was nod in sympathy, put his ear to her drooping breasts while she giggled, and tell her to get more rest and drink a glass of wine, preferably red, before bed.

“Well, we did no harm, Dan,” he said when Father Esteban escorted the last patient from the makeshift surgery. He looked at the loaves of bread, cheese, and beaker of olive oil against the wall. “With that and Wilkie’s ham—there had better be some left—we should make it to the next village.”

Dan nodded. Jesse hesitated. “I hope you do not think I am behaving badly by leaving you here.”

“Not at all, sir,” the hospital steward replied. “If we all stay, we will probably be captured. It is also possible that the villagers would begin to resent us even more if there are so many to feed.” His voice hardened. “You must confront Major Bones when you reach the Portuguese lines. I rather think, sir, that you have given me the easier task.”

“Time will prove or disprove that.”

Dan nodded. He got up from the table and repacked his medical satchel. He cleared his throat, but did not look at Jesse.

“Well?”

“Captain, if you please, take very good care of Elinore,” Dan said. “There is something about her.” He shook his head, even as a rosy color traveled up from his neck. “I know you are married to her now, but, sir, there is something about her.”

Jesse held out his hand. Dan looked at him in surprise, took it gingerly, then shook it. “I didn’t marry her on a whim, Daniel, I promise you I didn’t.”

He could see the surprise in his steward’s eyes. “Does she know that?”

“Not yet. I am still hoping to find the right time.”

“Don’t wait too long, Captain. Good-bye now. I will see you when Wellington returns in the spring.”

“Indeed you will.” He couldn’t trust himself to say more. Daniel seemed to have the same affliction. The steward slung his satchel across his back, gave a small salute, and left the room. “Go with God, lad,” Jesse murmured.

When he returned to the room where he had left Elinore, she had just finished shaking sand across the page. She looked up, and he could not ignore the trust in her eyes. Harper and Wilkie were looking expectantly at him, too. We’re a strange little company now, he thought. We’re a hospital with no patients, which is just as well, because my
only medicine is sugar. I have two inept soldiers who may be the biggest scoundrels in the Peninsula. And there is Elinore, who is looking at me as though I have the ability to get us alive to Portugal. Hippocrates, this was
not
part of the Oath.

“Are we ready?” he asked, hoping that he sounded more confident than he felt.

“
Un momento, Capitán, por favor
.”

Jesse looked around. Father Esteban had followed him into the room. Behind him was a tall man, probably as old as his father, but with a distinctly regal bearing. Jesse looked at his eyes, then looked away. You’re a cold man, he thought.

“Captain, may I acquaint you with Armand Leger?”

Jesse took an involuntary step backward, even as both Harper and Wilkie moved closer. “He’s French?” Jesse asked. “What are you doing, Father Esteban?”

The priest held up his hand. “There is no betrayal here, my friend. Senor Leger has been hiding in our village. He is the favor I wished to speak to you about yesterday. Will you take him with you to the Portuguese border?”

Jesse looked at Elinore, a question in her eyes. She rose immediately and came to stand beside him. In a moment he felt her hand in his. “I…I don’t know what to say, Father,” he replied. “How is it that a Frenchman wants to get to the English lines?”

“I have no love for Napoleon,” the man said. His words were heavily accented, and his voice sounded rusty, as though he did not speak much in any language.

“So you claim.” Jesse waited for more explanation, but the man folded his arms and was silent. He looked at Father Esteban. The priest would not meet his gaze.

“This is the condition for keeping our wounded, isn’t it?” Elinore asked, her voice calm. Jesse felt her tremble.

Father Esteban looked at her with an expression close to relief. “I fear it must be. We are a small village. Senor Leger tells me that the French want him almost more than I think they want you. Please, senora, understand that I mean you no ill, but these are difficult times. How many fugitives can Santos keep?”

Jesse could not deny the reality behind his words. “Why do the French want him?”

“He will not say.”

Jesse could think of nothing to say. “He has us, Elinore,” he stated finally. “Stuffed and trussed like a Christmas goose.”

“Then we will make the best of it, Captain,” she replied. She smiled up at him, and the trust in her eyes made his knees weak.

At the same time, that trust bit deep. He considered his words carefully in the silent room. “Senor Leger, or rather, Monsieur Leger, you may come with us, although we have no pretensions of being much of an escort—no weapons, no horses, no soldiers—I can’t in good conscience burden Wilkie or Harper here with that honorific. But if we make it to the Portuguese border, you will, too.”

Leger bowed, and Jesse nodded. I can think that you understand English, sir, he told himself. Good, because I am about to make myself very plain. Hippocrates, stop up your ears for a moment. “This is my wife, Elinore. Let me assure you of one thing, monsieur: If you in any way frighten her or try to do her harm, I will kill you with my bare hands.”

Elinore gasped and looked at him, her eyes wide. He tightened his grip on her hand. “I mean it.”

“Jesse, did you just hear yourself?” she asked.

He smiled to hear her speak his name. “You’re right, Mrs. Randall. I did promise a lot of things in that tent, didn’t I?”

T
hey left Santos before the noon hour, each carrying a medical satchel, a white cloth bag with a large cross on the front. Jesse also slung the leather knapsack his mother had given him over his shoulder, unable to abandon the glass bottles and mortar and pestle of his profession, even though the bottles were empty. With no little qualm, he had left behind the handsome wooden case with the velvet-covered indentations for the tools of his trade. He had wrapped the bone saw, forceps, lancets, probe, and scalpel in a towel and stuffed them in the knapsack.

“You can always have another case made,” Elinore had advised him when he mourned overlong at this task.

He nodded, and then felt embarrassed over his pettiness. She had nothing but the clothes she stood in, and he was suffering the loss of a velvet-lined box? He accepted the bottle of olive oil that Elinore handed him and added it to his pack.

Sheffield’s nearly new boots dangled from a rope around Wilkie’s neck. The private had felt too proprietary about his ham to relinquish it, so it hung from his neck as well, in a small cloth bag that caused no end of excitement among the dogs of Santos.