When the Heavens Fall (32 page)

A s soon as Dolores looked out the window in the late afternoon, her heart seemed to leap. “There it is!” she whispered. “The white banner! Brandon's come to take me away!”

At once she packed a small bag with clothes suitable for travel. Going downstairs she said, “Mother, I'm going to spend the night with Damita, if that will be all right.”

“I thought we were going to finish our plans for the wedding. It will soon be upon us.”

“We can do that later. Damita's going to help me make tiny nosegays out of dried flowers for the guests.”

Her stepmother wavered, considering. “All right. Come back in the morning, though.”

“Yes, I will, Mother.”

Leaving the house, Dolores went at once to the home of her friend Damita, and Damita's mother, Señora Ricardo, met her with a smile. “Damita's not here, but she'll be in later. Come in, and make yourself at home.”

“May I have the same room I had the last time?”

“Why, of course. Go and put your things there. Damita shouldn't be too long.”

The time seemed to pass very slowly for Dolores. She was nervous, but by the time Damita returned, she had made herself
calm. The two girls spent the rest of the day making nosegays, which Dolores knew would never be used.
Perhaps Damita can use them when she marries.
The work kept her hands and mind occupied as she waited for nightfall.

“Are you excited about your wedding?” Damita asked.

“Oh, I suppose every woman is excited about her own wedding,” Dolores said, looking away.

Damita hesitated. “But he's such a dry stick of an old man.” She immediately looked guilty. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to speak in such a fashion.”

“It's all right. Don't even think about it.”

The evening passed slowly. Then Dolores went to her bedroom. She paced the floor for two hours until the house was still. Quickly she changed into the riding clothes she had stuffed into her bag.

She opened the door very carefully; when it squeaked rather loudly, her heart gave a lurch. She remained perfectly still, however, and heard nothing. She scurried down the stairs to the front door. It was bolted with a steel bolt that grated when she undid it, and again she paused, but no one came. She edged the door open, being as quiet as she could, and stepped outside.

A dark shadow suddenly appeared. “Dolores? Over here!”

“Brandon, you're here!”

“Yes. Come now, we must get away quickly, Dolores.”

“What about the guards at the gate?”

“We don't have to worry about that. There was only one, and he won't bother us.”

“Did you—did you kill him?”

“No. I just got him drunk. He won't wake up for hours. Come along.”

Dolores held tightly to Brandon's hand as they made their way across the compound. A dog barked at Brandon's reproof but then was silent. They reached the gate, and by the light of the
moon she could see the guard, slumped with his back against the wall, unconscious. It was good that Brandon had come for her here—at home there would have been three more guards. They passed through the gate, and he led her to a clump of trees.

“It's going to be a hard ride, Dolores. We're going straight through, if we can, all the way to San Sebastián.”

“We can do it, Brandon.” Excitement came to her then, and she turned to him and said, “Tell me you love me!”

“What man could keep from loving you?” Brandon said. “Come now, there will be time for talk later.” Dolores was disappointed. This was the most dramatic and romantic thing that had ever had happen to her. But she knew that they had to hurry. Her father would be after them soon enough. The two of them walked their horses until they were past Damita's house. As soon as they were clear, they mounted and he said, “Ride as hard and as long as you can.”

“I will. I'm riding to freedom and love!”

Brandon said, “That's true enough. Come along.”

As they sped down the road illuminated by a full silvery moon, Dolores was happy.

She did not glance back as the town disappeared in the distant shadows.

Captain Kirkegard had become rather fond of Philemon. Both of them were Christians, and every day they talked about doctrine. Kirkegard had wormed out of Philemon most of the details about Brandon.

They were sitting on deck at high noon when Philemon jumped to his feet. “Look. There they come! Master Winslow and the young woman!”

Kirkegard raced down the gangplank, closely following Philemon.

The man and the woman dismounted. Kirkegard noted that the horses were lathered and the young woman looked strained and tired.

Philemon said at once in English, the one language they all shared, “Captain Kirkegard, may I present Miss Dolores Mendoza.”

“I'm very pleased to know you, ma'am.”

“Captain, it's good to see you.” Kirkegard saw that she had a good smile. She asked, “Are you going to take us to England soon?”

“As soon as you can get aboard.”

“You mean we can leave now?”

Kirkegard pulled off his hat and scratched his head. “Well, we can try. Please notice, there is almost no wind. If God smiles, it will pick up. Come aboard now.”

Kirkegard led the way, and Philemon came forward with a smile. “Well, Master Winslow, we've got a miracle.”

“Not yet. Come, let's do what we can to be ready,” Brandon said abruptly. He escorted Dolores on board, and Captain Kirkegard shouted orders for men to board the two horses, then loose the sails. He paused to say, “Philemon, show this lady her cabin.”

“Certainly, Captain, I'll do that.” Philemon led the way below and stopped at a door. “This will be yours, ma'am. We'll bunk together in that one right there, Master Winslow.”

Dolores's cabin was small; it contained only a bed and a table. “It's not very luxurious, but that's fine.” She looked at Brandon. He was too large for the cramped passageway. “Let's go up and watch as we leave the harbor. I'll be nervous as a cat with a dog on the prowl if I stay down here.”

“All right.” Brandon helped her up the stairs and onto the deck. They took a position at the rail. Suddenly something changed in Dolores's face.

“Look. You see that ship?”

“That one over there? The
Mirenda?
”

“Yes. That's my father's ship.” They could both clearly see
the cannon lined up along the deck as well as in gun ports along the side.

“It looks like a fighting ship.”

“He still owns it. Sometimes he goes away in it and comes back with a lot of money.”

“Still dabbles in piracy, then?”

“I suppose that's true,” she said, chastising herself inwardly for so foolishly believing him when he said he'd left all that behind.

Slowly the sails unfurled and were filled slowly by a light breeze. There was just enough to move the
Flower
out of the dock. Brandon shook his head. “That wind had better pick up or it'll take forever to get out of this port, let alone make it to England.”

They were willing the sails to crack open and billow with wind. The captain came to stand beside them. He glanced up to the sails. He shrugged. “I have hope.”

“So do I,” Dolores said. “God hasn't brought us this far for nothing.”

Mendoza was mad with rage. When he had discovered his daughter was gone, he had every one of his men out searching for sign of her around Damita's home. It was obvious that whoever had taken her had chosen the cover of darkness, and no one had seen anything.

Finally César Lopez, Mendoza's most trusted man, came in. He was smiling. “Good news, sir.”

“It had better be. What is it?”

“The guard who was drunk at his post said the man who gave him the liquor was an Englishman.”

“An Englishman? Winslow! He's stolen my daughter!” Rage suffused Mendoza's face, and his eyes glittered with fury. “I will kill him slowly! He said he was heading northeast, but that was to throw us off.”

“He came from San Sebastián.”

“And that's where he's headed. Get the best horses we have and all the men you can round up. We may still catch them.”

“What's the date, I wonder? I've lost count,” Dolores said.

“It's April 16. My uncle's birthday. I wish we were there with him.”

They were standing on the deck, looking down at the water. The ship was still moving very slowly, struggling forward on the feeble breeze. Suddenly Dolores clutched Brandon's arm. “I'm so happy, Brandon. Are you? How do you feel about what's happening?”

“It's exciting,” Brandon said. He was very much aware of the beauty of this young woman and her soft form pressed against his side. She clung to him. He knew that sooner or later he would have to tell her the truth.

“Tell me about your parents. Will they like me, Brandon?”

“Of course. They will love you.”

“When will we be married? Soon, I hope.”

Brandon looked out across the sea, trying desperately to think of something to say. “You know, Dolores, you'll have many suitors—a beautiful young woman like you. You may fall in love with a very rich man. Not a poor fellow like me.”

“No. God sent you to bring me out of slavery, and you've saved me. I love you, Brandon.” She pressed herself against him, she laid her head on his shoulder, and Brandon Winslow had never felt such impotence in all his life. The worst of the trial was over, but as she held onto him, he smelled the fragrance of her hair and felt the strong presence of her personality and with a start realized that this was a woman that any man could love—including himself.

He was in misery, thinking about the future.
Well, at least my uncle is saved.
That thought gave him at least a bit of comfort. But not much.

Two days later, Philemon was questioning Brandon about Dolores. They were up in the bow of the ship. Dolores had gone below.

Philemon said, “She's quite a young woman, sir.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Don't know as I ever saw a prettier one.”