The Rebel and the Lady. Kathryn Albright

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      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.

      She glanced down at the heavy iron pot she held. All she’d done so far was take food to the hospital in Maria’s stead—not nearly the action she’d desired. Juan had dismissed his cook after hearing the news Victoria brought, and smartly the woman had packed her things and headed back to her home west of town to warn her husband. The soldiers might enjoy this soup after the rations of corn tortillas they’d endured, but what would happen to the injured and ailing men once Santa Anna invaded the streets?

      Again she worried about the lack of readiness. Shouldn’t people be doing something? Preparing? It seemed a few Tejanos were, but СКАЧАТЬ