Before We Leave

Chapter 2: Flight

Chapter 2: FlightFor once the trunks were minimal when Antoinette traveled. Consuela would be her companion all the way to New Orleans and have control of the money. Red made sure that Antoinette's horse and saddle were securely kept under guard. Both he and the Senora heaved a sigh of relief when the stage rolled out of Wooden. Daniel was just barely able to sit up and the men had orders to shoot if he left within the week. Red was confident he'd covered every possibility. Right now, he needed Margareatha back at the books as he had another grain buying trip to complete before heading to Galveston to arrange the shipping to a South American warehouse.

They had been in the stage for four days before Antoinette began to be anxious. They were but two days away from Houston and the boat taking her to New Orleans. She had been praying to the Virgin, the Saints, and the Holy Trinity that Lorenz had received her letter in time. He should have, but where was he? She couldn't see him riding up and stopping the stage, and she certainly didn't want anyone to be injured. Consuela sat prim and perspiring in the summer heat, her dark clothes drawing in more heat. Antoinette dabbed daintily at her brow with her hanky as they bounced and jolted over the roads.

The driver pulled the horses into the stage stop as close to noon as possible. “Everybody out. You all have thirty minutes to eat while we get the horses changed.”

Antoinette stepped down and brushed the dust from her clothes and swallowed. A tall, young man was standing by the corrals with a saddled horse. He tugged at the front brim of his hat and walked the animal behind the wooden stable. “I believe I need to use the facilities,” she whispered to Consuela and noted the look of relief on the older woman's face.

Consuela tried to keep up with the long strides Antoinette was taking and failed. The outhouse for women was set off to the side and Antoinette scooted in first and locked the door. She hurriedly did what nature demanded, exited, and let Consuela in. She nodded at the other woman waiting and walked briskly to the back of the stable.

Lorenz smiled at her, his grey eyes glowing; the scar on his right cheek dragging the lip line upward, and her heart went to her throat. Strange, that was all he had to do, smile.

“Let's go.” He boosted her up onto the horse before swinging up behind her. He held his horse to a trot until they were over the rise and then kicked it into a gallop. They rode into a small, hidden gully and Lorenz collected two more horses; one carefully laden with camp goods, the second equipped with a regular saddle and bridle for her. She hooked her leg around the saddle horn as sitting astride would have shown too much leg. Later, when she had time to think, Antoinette would wonder how he knew to wait for her at that stage stop with the extra horses and equipment hidden away.

They rode steadily for an hour and then walked the horses. Lorenz seemed to be deep in thought, but his eyes kept searching the surrounding landscape. Finally as the sun began to set, he found a small, wooded area and they dismounted.

“I'm afraid this will be a grueling trip for y'all.” His concern showed in his eyes. “We'll have to keep a steady pace for days. I don't think anyone is following us, but we'll eat a cold supper tonight just in case.”

“Ah'm a Texan.” Antoinette smiled at him. “Were y'all able to bring me anything in the way of clothes?”

“I didn't have time to find anything for ladies.” He looked at her doubtfully. “I threw in an extra pair of my trousers and a shirt. Y'all can roll up the trousers. There's also a regular hat. It's a little beat up, but it will be better than that doodad on your head.”

Antoinette considered. “Ah believe ah'll try your clothes for the journey.”

Lorenz started to pull the saddles and turned back to her. “Uh, Antoinette, y'all aren't going to change your mind, are y'all?

She stared at him, disbelief spreading over her face. “Never! They were going to lock me away in that convent.” For one brief moment her drawl had disappeared. Then she smiled. “Besides, ah'm a marked woman now.”

“Antoinette, I won't do anything to hurt y'all, and I promise we will be married before…” Lorenz started to redden and turned to the horses, lips compressed. He'd promised himself that he would conduct himself as a gentleman in word and deed.

His resolve almost broke the sixth night after they'd eaten. Antoinette was bone weary from the days of riding, sleeping on the ground, and quickly prepared camp food. Her movements were listless and the laughter gone from her violet eyes. Lorenz took her in his arms to comfort her and suddenly she was holding him tightly and he was tasting her lips, the dusty cheeks, his tongue seeking hers, and his hands starting to move over her while he kept whispering, “I love y'all, Antoinette, Antoinette.”

He never knew how he managed to break away, but somehow he was walking rapidly uphill to the small crest above their camp.

Antoinette found herself blinking, her breath coming in and out of her mouth as she stood stunned, watching him move away from her. After a few moments, she followed him upward and found him sitting cross-legged, his arms crossed in front of him as he sat rocking back and forth. She could see his profile, so perfect, so clean in the moonlight, his face drawn taunt from pain. Should she approach him? She had no other clothes except her dress which she intended to put on the last day. She had listened to the servants' chatter in Spanish and remembered that they talked about the “blood.” That was frightening, but the married ones had spoken of it with a certain satisfaction. Obviously, there were things she didn't know. There was no bed, basin, or clean rags here.

Antoinette could not stand the agony stamped on his face and as she drew nearer she reached out her hand to touch his shoulder. “Lorenz?”

“Antoinette, go away.”

His words were sharp, and she turned on her heel, fled back to the camp, and pulled the thin cover over herself, a small smile playing on her face. It was a heady experience to discover just how much he loved and respected her. She knew they had by passed the town of Arles and it would be just a couple of days before they were at his ranch. Briefly, she wondered what Red was doing and decided sleep was better than needless worry.

* * *

Consuela realized Antoinette was gone when she walked into the restaurant portion of the stage stop. No one paid any attention to the excited voice of a middle-aged Mexican senora until she started screaming. Finally the driver confirmed that the young woman was gone. There were no spare men to send out on a search party and a schedule had to be kept.

Her attempt to telegraph Mr. O'Neal involved the same mindless fight against the prejudices of the white men running the telegraph office in the next town. Consuela finally prevailed by paying double the price of the regular telegram and was left short of funds.

It took another two days for the telegram to be delivered to the plantation turned ranch. One of the maids timidly knocked on his door. Red's satisfied mood shifted to absolute fury. Rapidly he wrote a note to sheriff in Wooden about an abducted female. He hurried to find his Mother, soothe her, and then it was time to confront Margareatha.

“Where are they?”

“You are shouting, and which 'they' do you mean?” Rita's face was bland; her copper eyes with the gold circle around the pupils were cloaked.

Red put his hands on the desk. “Daniel and Antoinette. Where did they go:”

“Daniel's in Wooden and leaving in the morning. He hasn't been able to ride until now. As for Antoinette, I have no idea. Isn't she safely locked away in that horrid convent?”

Red stared at her. “Then who took her?”

“Took? Red, no one 'takes' Antoinette. She does have a mind of her own.”

“I went into her mind when Consuela told me she was planning a wedding. I saw Daniel.”

“I believe you are mistaken.” She smiled. “You made an incorrect assumption and acted on it. Now you've alienated Daniel, Antoinette, and in all probability the entire MacDonald House.” Deliberately she used Mac's Thalian word for family.

“I'm telling you, I saw…” He hesitated and continued. “If it was Lorenz, there was no scar.”

“I'm sure she sees him as perfect. You did encourage them to correspond, remember?” She smiled in satisfaction, but a nagging doubt implanted itself. Daniel continued to insist that Antoinette loved him.

“You knew.” His accusation was laced with disbelief.

“I guessed.”

“He has abducted my sister, and I'll have the law on them.”

“You'll make a fool of yourself, Red.” Margareatha was shouting at his back. “She's nineteen and can prove it.”

Red turned back to face her. “She took her baptismal certificate? Did you tell her?”

Margareatha smiled. “No, I merely mentioned that proving who you are is sometimes a necessity in a strange locale.”

“Why? Why have you bothered to stay here?”

Her smile softened, but her eyes remained hard. “I stayed because I need a decent paying job, and you need me. You don't dare trust anyone else with these books and the Slavey grain accounts. You can't explain it rationally to anyone on Earth, and anyone dishonest enough to not want a reasonable explanation would try to rob you; however, I will not permit you to hurt someone in our family and then ship off a young girl to a nunnery like you are some medieval liege lord. This is 1869, not 1269.”

He glared at her, his copper eyes with the golden circle around the pupils almost in flames. “Just how do you think a young girl is going to handle the fact that my father isn't hers? What if she finds out we're half-brother and half-sister?

Margareatha's smile grew colder. “She'll handle it just fine. It might even make the Senora human in her mind.”

“Do you think I'll let Lorenz get away with this?” Rage laced his words.

“First you'd have to go through Mac. As it is, you already have a problem the next time you meet him. He has a very narrow view of anyone who attacks his House.”

Red stared at her for a moment and left. Words were useless. Worse, she could be right. Lorenz, he knew, he could still take, but Mac? Not a chance. The MacDonald's might decide this was a bad match and prevent an actual marriage, but his own actions were effectively blocked. There would be no telegram to Wooden or Arles. He pulled out a cigarillo and inhaled. Now he would need to console the Senora and hope that her weeping, praying, and incense burning didn't last for months. He'd write a note to Margareatha in the morning for her to transfer to Nevada. Books could be done from there, and the Senora would have one less thing to rail against.