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Authors: Countess In Buckskin

BOOK: Merline Lovelace
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“Tatiana!”
The countess raised her head. Lifting one hand to push her wildly whipping hair out of her eyes, she squinted through the shimmer of the sun upon the sea. At her side, Irina gave a high-pitched giggle.
“It’s Mama. She’s getting her feet wet.”
Her brother smacked the back of the youngster’s head with his wooden spoon. “No, she’s not. Mama wouldn’t splash through the water like a silly girl.”
Her eyes filling with instant tears, Irina stuck her thumb in her mouth.
Tatiana hid a smile at the children’s squabbling. Indeed, the Princess Helena seemed to have forgotten her dignities. Holding up her skirts in both hands, she raced toward the four figures huddled together at the far end of the sandy cove. Whatever had sent the princess splashing through the eddies had put a look of excitement on her face. It was visible even at this distance.
“Tatiana!”
Pushing herself to her feet, Tatiana shook out the damp, sandy folds of her high-waisted dress. As yet, her pregnancy had resulted in nothing more than a slight rounding of her belly and a heaviness in her breasts. Still she was grateful that the new fashion for longer, tighter corsets and fitted bodices hadn’t yet reached Upper California. She waited with mounting impatience for the princess to skid to a halt.
“Why do you run so, Helena?”
The older woman drew in a great, gulping gasp and grabbed the younger’s hands. “A rider approaches. I was just starting to descend the stairs to the cove when the sentry called the news.”
Tatiana’s fingers clutched Helena’s. Hope shot into her heart with the swiftness of an arrow. “Did the sentry say who comes?”
“No. Only that he comes from the south and...”
“The south? But...”
Her hope plummeted. From the first day they’d met, Josiah had insisted that his way went north.
Helena squeezed her fingers. “Tatiana! He rides the gray gelding! The one with the dappled hindquarters that Alexander sold to your American!”
Her momentary doubts disappeared in a burst of joy. Perhaps Josiah followed a more circuitous route back to Fort Ross. Or changed his itinerary. At that moment, Tatiana cared not a whit. Lifting her skirts, she started down the beach.
“I’ll leave the children with you,” she called over her shoulder to the grinning princess.
She made it to the top of the stairs with much puffing and gasping. Sweat rolled down her temples, and she knew her hair must look like a covey of quail had nested in it. For all of five seconds, she debated whether she should slip across the compound and compose herself.
Josiah had seen her looking worse, she decided. Far worse.
She was standing outside the men’s quarters, attempting a conversation with Mikhail, when her eager ears picked up the clop of horses’ hooves. The rawboned gelding trotted through the open gate a moment later. Tatiana’s joyful anticipation curled in on itself.
The rider sported worn leather boots, canvas pants and iron gray muttonchop whiskers.
“It’s Robert Ridley, Captain Sutter’s chief factor,” Mikhail exclaimed. He hurried forward, eager for news.
Crushing, pain-filled disappointment kept Tatiana rooted in place. Why did Josiah not come?
Holy Father above, why did he not come?
 
She learned the answer to her question over dinner, when Ridley casually mentioned the American who had stopped at Sutter’s Fort.
“Name of Jones. Friendly sort of fellow, but a bit of a loner, like most of those mountain men.”
Slowly Tatiana lowered her fork. So Josiah had gone south after all? How strange, after his insistence that he must travel north.
“He seemed mighty interested in the Captain’s operation,” Ridley commented as he scooped peas onto his knife. “Asked all sorts of questions. We figured he might be thinking of settling in the Sacramento Valley.”
Tatiana’s heart skipped a beat. Scarcely daring to breathe, she met Helena’s gaze. Excited speculation sparkled in her friend’s dark eyes. Before either of them could frame the question that hovered in their minds, Ridley lifted his shoulders in a shrug.
“We were mistaken, though. Jones sold Captain Sutter his horse and took ship for San Francisco. We heard later that he booked passage aboard another ship heading for Mexico.”
Tatiana wet suddenly dry lips. “Do you...? Do you say that Josiah Jones left California?”
“Yes, ma’am, or so’s we heard.” He shrugged again and rolled more peas onto his knife. “A wanderer like that’s got the sky in his rifle sights and the wind in his blood. Guess we were foolish to think he’d want to put down roots.”
“Yes,” Tatiana whispered. “We were.”
Chapter Fourteen
 
 
J
osh gripped the stone balustrade edging the south portico of Chapultepec Palace and stared down at acres of lush green trees. The thick canopy obscured the road that led from the center of Mexico City to this citadel set high on a windswept promontory.
Behind him, a facade of crenellated gray stone rose several stories. Built by the Spanish conquerors atop the ruins of an Aztec emperor’s palace, Chapultepec now housed Mexico’s military academy, which, at this moment, was preparing to present a review of its cadet troop to the president. Among the guests scheduled to attend was the Honorable Hannibal Kent, United States Ambassador to Mexico.
This review was a calculated show of strength, designed to impress the representatives of the United States with Mexico’s military zeal. Rumblings of war over the issue of Texas had grown too loud to ignore. It was time to rattle the sabers.
The shrill of fifes calling the cadets to order carried clearly to Josh. Drums pounded out a rapid beat. Idly he wondered how many times he’d tucked in his chin, stuck out his chest and marched across the parade ground at West Point in response to just such a martial summons.
Moments later, his ear caught the sound of boots hitting the flagstone balcony in cadence with the drums. Turning, Josh watched the United States military attaché to Mexico stride across the balcony.
“I passed a note to the ambassador. He’ll meet us right after the parade.”
Josh nodded to Major Rutherford Lee. “Thanks, Ruff. I’m in your debt for arranging this meeting on such short notice...and for the umform.”
“What are former classmates for, if not to lend their only spare set of dress blues to scruffy-looking woodsmen who show up at their quarters unexpectedly?” Lee ran an assessing eye over his property. “The uniform looks good on you, Josh. Damn good. But you should be wearing major’s epaulets, or even colonel’s, not those lieutenant’s wings I borrowed for you.”
Josh shrugged, which was about all the movement he could manage in the tight blue jacket. Its stand-up collar cut into his windpipe, and he didn’t dare draw a full breath for fear of popping the gold buttons and black braid that frogged its front. The crimson sash looped around his waist was comfortable enough, but Ruff’s dress sword felt strange every time it banged against his hip.
“I’m satisfied with my scruffy buckskins,” he replied easily.
The major reached inside his jacket and pulled out two fat cigars. Handing one to Josh, he bit off the end of the other and spit the plug over the railing. Josh sniffed appreciatively at the rich, rolled tobacco.
“I should have known you’d have a smoke in your pocket. You and your damned cigars almost got us both thrown out of the Point.”
Unperturbed, Ruff scraped a match along the balustrade. Cupping the flame in his hand, he held it for Josh before applying it to the tip of his own. Clouds of fragrant smoke soon lifted on the breeze.
This was the first moment of quiet for the two men since Josh’s sudden arrival a few hours ago. He’d caught Rutherford just as he was walking out the door to his quarters on his way to the review. The one-time roommates had barely had time to exchange greetings while Josh shucked his buckskins and pulled on Ruff’s spare uniform. He’d explained as much of his mission as he could during the brief carriage ride to Chapultepec. Now he could only wait for a few moments along with the man he’d traveled some thousand miles to see.
“I heard about Catherine,” Ruff said in his cultured Southern drawl.
His mind on the scheme he intended to present to the ambassador in a few moments, Josh didn’t take in his friend’s quiet words right away. The major mistook the reason for his silence.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken of her,” he said with a grimace. “I guess I still haven’t quite got over the fact that she chose a clumsy-footed, oversize Kentuckian instead of one of Virginia’s finest sons.”
He leaned his elbows on the railing and stared at the trees below. Smoke curled from the tip of his cigar as he recalled the long-ago days when he and Josh and half the plebes at the Point had competed for the attention of the same woman.
“God, she was beautiful,” Rutherford murmured.
Frowning, Josh blew out a stream of smoke. For the life of him, he couldn’t fix Catherine’s image in his mind. A hazy picture of golden curls and a red, pouting mouth hovered just out of reach. Each time he thought he had her, the unformed features would take on a firm, pointed chin, a generous mouth, and lustrous violet eyes. And each time he thought of Tatiana, regret ripped through his gut.
He shouldn’t have left her without telling her that she’d got into his blood. That he craved the sound of her voice, even when it shrilled at him like a crow. That his hands itched for the feel of her skin.
Damn it, he should have told her how much he wanted her.
Whatever happened with her trees and her fort and her damned tsar, he wanted her. She’d given herself to him twice now. Once in the mountains, and once on Princess Helena’s settee. This time, Josh wasn’t about to let her take back the gift.
His head lifted as the drummers beat a long, rolling tattoo. Suddenly cannons boomed, one after another, in a continuous, earsplitting salute.
“Sounds like the president’s about to arrive,” Ruff commented. Taking a final deep pull on his cigar, he tossed it over the railing and tugged at the hem of his uniform jacket. “We’d better take our place among the lesser minions and see what kind of officers the Republic of Mexico is turning out. We might be sighting down our rifle barrels at them in a year or two.”
Or less, Josh thought grimly as he followed his friend through the marbled halls of the military academy. He hadn’t yet told Ruff how strongly the sentiments of the settlers swarming into California ran against the Mexican government. Or how ready men like Johann Sutter were to throw off Mexico’s authority.
California was another Texas waiting to happen. If the United States didn’t take some action to fill the gap when the settlers rebelled, as Josh was convinced they soon would, some other foreign power would claim the coastal territories.
Now he just had to apprise the United States ambassador to Mexico of that fact.
 
The moment Hannibal Kent joined the two officers in a small private reception room just off the main hall, Josh knew he’d made the right decision when he caught ship for Mexico. A career politician and dedicated patriot, Kent grasped the implications of the potential Russian pullout immediately. Clasping his hands behind his back, he paced the black and white tiles.
“The Hudson’s Bay Company will want the fort, of course, although I doubt they’ll pay what the Russians will ask. The thinning otter take in the Pacific waters has hurt their profits, too. The French might balk at the price, as well, especially since the Mexicans claim title to the land, if not the livestock and equipment.”
He halted and leveled a piercing stare at Josh. “Are you certain that the Russians won’t entertain an offer from the United States?”
“My information is that Tsar Nikolas refuses to deal with a government run by commoners.”
Kent snorted. “Since he won’t even allow our emissary to St. Petersburg into his presence, I’d say that assessment is pretty close to the mark. So what do you recommend, Lieutenant? You must have a plan in mind, or you wouldn’t have come so far to deliver this information in person instead of simply sending a message.”
“I do, sir.”
Josh ignored a swift, sharp stab of guilt. He wasn’t betraying Tatiana. He wasn’t the one who would decide whether the Russians would abandon Fort Ross. He was only looking out for his country’s interests if that decision was made.
“The tsar won’t deal with the governments of Mexico or the United States, but he might accept an offer from a private citizen. Particularly if that man is a personal friend of Baron Rotchev.”
“Who’s this citizen we speak of?”
“Captain Sutter, Johann Sutter.”
Swiftly Josh detailed the Swiss landowner’s mercurial relationship with the Mexican authorities, his grandiose plans to expand his empire, and, most importantly, his fervent desire to get his hands on the Russian’s impressive arsenal.
“But you say this Swiss is about to take the oath of citizenship in Monterey,” Kent objected. “How will it aid the United States if a Mexican citizen obtains possession of Fort Ross?”
“From what I was able to pick up, Sutter has served under several flags and claims allegiance to none. Like the desert fox, he’ll take on any colors necessary to survive and prosper...including ours.”
“That doesn’t particularly impress me,” the ambassador commented acidly. “I have little regard for those who choose their nationality to suit their circumstances.”
Major Rutherford entered the conversation for the first time. “With all due respect, sir, we don’t have to hold him in high regard to make use of him.”
Josh shot his friend a grateful glance and picked up his argument. “If we secretly provide Sutter with the funds to purchase the Russian fort...”
Kent’s bushy gray eyebrows shot up. “If we provide him the funds?”
“Yes, sir,” Josh said firmly. “We...or more correctly, you, in the person of the United States government. You’ll have to act on your own authority. There isn’t time to get the president’s approval.”
“You aren’t making this easy, Lieutenant!”
“No, sir.” Tersely Josh summarized the crux of the matter. “If we supply Sutter with the means to purchase Fort Ross, we accomplish two strategic objectives. First, we keep it out of the hands of the British and the French. Second, we make a staunch ally for the United States if...when...war with Mexico comes.”
The ambassador turned his back on the two officers and stared out the glazed glass windows. Josh shot a quick look at his former classmate. Ruff shrugged his shoulders.
Gritting his teeth, Josh fought to contain his impatience. He’d had weeks to grapple with this issue. Too many weeks, damn it. Resisting the urge to yank at the choking gold-braided collar of his borrowed uniform, Josh waited for the ambassador to work his way through the problem.
Finally Hannibal Kent faced the two men. His brows formed a thick gray line across his forehead as he met Josh’s intent gaze.
“How much?”
An hour later, Josh left the ambassador’s presence with the authorization he needed to talk to both Captain Sutter and Baron Rotchev. The next day, he bid farewell to Ruff and started the long ride from Mexico City to the western coast. With luck and fair winds, he’d reach Upper California before the end of June.
He passed the dusty miles with thoughts of Tatiana. Had her cuttings sprouted? he wondered. Did she fill her time tending to them? Did she await his return with the same stomach-clenching impatience he did?
 
Tatiana lifted her voice to be heard over the tinkling notes of the pianoforte. “May I speak privately with you, Helena?”
The princess threw a quick glance over her shoulder. “But of course.” Gathering her skirts, she rose gracefully from the piano bench. “No, no, you keep practicing, Irina. I will speak with the countess, and hear your scales when I return.”
The tousle-haired little girl thrust out her bottom lip and hit a series of discordant notes that made both women wince. Shaking her head, Helena looped her arm through Tatiana’s and steered her toward the open door.
“This warmth beckons to Irina. She longs to run outside and play. So do I, for that matter. Come, let us walk in your so green orchards and enjoy the sun.”
Arm in arm, the two friends strolled through a compound ringing with the sounds of activity. A kerchiefed washerwoman used a wooden paddle to fish wet clothes from a huge cauldron, then slapped and pounded them against a washboard. The fort’s armorer hammered on a wooden rifle stock. The barrel maker pulled a strip of heated metal from an open fire and plunged it, sizzling and spitting, into a tub of cold water. Returning the workers’ greetings, the women made for the open gates.
As Helena and Tatiana passed through the community of lodges outside the gates, Pomo and Aleut women gave them friendly smiles. A trio of lean, lopeared dogs raced by in pursuit of a startled jackrabbit. The dogs in turn were chased by a band of noisy children. By the time the two walkers gained the orchard, they both welcomed its dappled shade.
Flapping a hand to shoo away a swarm of buzzing gnats, Helena grimaced ruefully. “The sun is fiercer than I realized. We should have worn hats.”
“Susannahs,” Tatiana murmured, plucking a leaf from a low-hanging branch.
“What?”
“He called them Susannahs.”
The princess slanted her friend a puzzled look. “Who is called Susannah?”
Sighing, Tatiana shredded the leaf between her fingers. “When we walked the mountains, Josiah gave me his hat since I didn’t have a bonnet...a Susannah... to shield my face.”
“Oh.” The older woman’s face settled into disgruntled lines. “A pox on the man! I can’t believe I was so mistaken in him.”

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