White Apache

by tiffy

  Elise tapped her chin consideringly. ʺYet because General Wilkinson has arrested a few men he accuses of being in league with the Spanish dissidents, he can claim all the glory for himself. As the hero of New Orleans, heʹll be even more difficult for the President to remove from command.ʺ

  ʺAlas, too true, but perhaps I shall receive some useful news tonight. Iʹve just been given a cryptic summons to meet one of my agents at our designated rendezvous.ʺ

  Eliseʹs eyes widened. ʺWhat do you think he has learned?ʺ

  ʺI donʹt know, but I fear I must beg your leave and depart at once. My aide, Captain Sanders, will see you safely home. If you will forgive meʺ

  ʺOf course, governor. I shall enjoy watching the dancing for a bit longer, then return to my hotel.ʺ

  After Claiborne departed, Elise again searched the crowded ballroom for General James Wilkinson, who had seemingly vanished amid the brilliant plumage of Creole ladies and American officers. Then she saw a familiar face, and all breath escaped her lungs. With a pounding heart she kept her eyes riveted on Raoul Castal! Castal no longer wore the brilliant blue‐and‐white uniform of a Spanish soldier but was elegantly dressed in unrelieved black, which made his harsh face look even more sinister. What is he doing here?

  She could still feel his enraged dark eyes piercing her when she had denounced him in front of Alencastre. He was one of the filibustersof that she was certain.

  Elise watched him move through the crowd with cool nonchalance, charming simpering belles and speaking earnestly with several Creole gentlemen whom she recognized as political malcontents, although Wilkinson had not seen fit to arrest them. Then the general and Castal brushed past each other on the dance floor while each was partnering an older woman in a quadrille. Elise was grateful for her hiding place behind the screen as she observed the chance encounter that she knew was nothing of the sort.

  When the dance was over, each of the men escorted his partner to opposite sides of the room and made his obeisances, then moved toward different doors, casually swallowed up in the crowd. She had no time to consider any options as she called for her cloak and pulled its heavy velvet folds about her, covering her head and shadowing her face with the hood.

  She prayed Castal did not know she had remained in New Orleans and that if he noticed her, he would merely dismiss her as a plump Creole matron out for a breath of air. Silently she followed him from the house, then watched him walk across the gallery and down a dark set of stairs into the courtyard. General Wilkinson immediately materialized from behind a mimosa tree.

  Elise flattened herself against the gallery wall and moved around the upstairs porch until she was directly above the two conspirators, where she could overhear their whispered conversation.

  Governor Claiborneʹs face was as chalky as new parchment in the flickering light. He ran his hand over his light brown hair. ʺDutton says that the filibusters in New Orleans are working with Governor‐General Salcedo?ʺ

  Samuel replied grimly, ʺThereʹs no question about it. And Wilkinson knows the filibustersʹ plans. Salcedo is going to release Pike and his men. Instead of being a petty king or a war hero, Wilkinson will settle for being a peacemaker, but I wouldnʹt trust him or Salcedo as far as I could throw the cannons at the mouth of the delta.ʺ

  Claiborneʹs face was grim. ʺThere are so few men I can trust, Lieutenant. I need someone to ride to Washington with dispatches for President Jefferson, detailing these developments.ʺ

  ʺIʹll be ready to ride within the hour, sir,ʺ Shelby replied. ʺPlease draft your report. I have a great deal more I can add when I speak with the president.ʺ

  Samuel returned to the hotel where he and Elise were residing but found she had not yet been escorted home from the ball. Smiling sadly to himself, he murmured, ʺEven if you canʹt dance, at least youʹre enjoying the festivities, little sister, but I do wish you were safely away from New Orleans.ʺ

  After composing a brief farewell note for her, Shelby departed for a long, hard ride. Governor Claiborne would have to explain the details to Elise. In the note, all he could do was leave a brotherly admonition for her to leave New Orleans and all its dangerous intrigues behind. Their cousins in Kentucky would welcome her. <><><><><><><><><><><><> Elise knelt on the cold wooden floor of the gallery, her knees stiff and aching from spending so long crouched in the uncomfortable position. She struggled to still her trembling as General James Wilkinson of the United States Army calmly explained to Raoul Castal that the taking of New Spain was being postponed.

  Castalʹs voice was angry as he argued with the American. She could only hear snatches of their conversation.

  ʺYou must explain the change in plans to your excitable Creole friends.ʺ

  Wilkinsonʹs voice was steely with command.

  Elise could imagine Castal stiffening in affront, even though she could not see him through the shadows of the gallery grillwork.

  ʺThe gentlemen of the Mexican Association are not excitable, General. The Americainʺhe stressed the word with a faint sneerʺClark Jamison, boasted he would help us take New Orleans before we move west to Spanish lands.ʺ

  Elise could well imagine how Castal would have relished the chance to strut back into his home city as a conqueror! After a few more veiled hostilities were exchanged, Wilkinson dismissed his subordinate in intrigue and rejoined the gala indoors. Castal was being sent to meet with his fellow Creole conspirators.

  Somehow she must follow him.

  It was no simple task, but by the time Castalʹs closed carriage pulled away from the muddy curb, Elise had bribed a coachman to leave his post and pursue Castal. She assured the driver that his patrons would be occupied at the ball for quite some time. They had to stay far behind their prey so the clop of the horsesʹ

  hooves against the pavement would not give them away. Several times, when Castalʹs carriage turned into narrow back alleys, Elise feared they would lose him, but they did not.

  When Raoul alighted in front of a weather‐beaten cabin on the western bank of the Mississippi at the cityʹs edge, Elise watched from the black shadows of a huge willow tree.

  She whispered urgently to her driver, ʺIʹm going to get closer and see what theyʹre doing inside. I want you to ride straight to Governor Claiborneʹs residence and give him this.ʺ She produced a note hastily scrawled while she was bouncing around inside the carriage.

  ʺI donʹt know, Missy,ʺ the driver said uncomfortably. ʺI got to get back to the ball. Mr. Wheaton paid me real good to wait.ʺ

  ʺThe governor of Orleans Territory will pay you three times as much,ʺ Elise said, shoving the note into his calloused hand. She could just imagine the consternation outside the ballroom when Claiborneʹs specially assigned bodyguards realized that a pregnant lady had given them the slip! The governor would peel their hides if she was not located immediately. ʺIf the guards question you at the governorʹs mansion, just say Madam Louvois is in need of the governorʹs aid. Believe me, heʹll see you and pay handsomely!ʺ

  After the carriage creaked off toward the city, Elise began to trace a circuitous path toward the cabin. Her only beacon was the dim yellow light spilling from the grease‐papered windows. Several times, her feet sunk into the mire, nearly sucking her slippers off. Disregarding her ruined shoes and clammy discomfort, she crept nearer the cabin until voices drifted toward her like fog on the chill dank air.

  ʺI do not like it. Dutton is long overdue with those boatloads of weapons,ʺ a querulous voice said in French. ʺDutton has his instructions. He is a crude American backwoodsman, too stupid to do otherwise than follow them,ʺ Castal reprimanded.

  ʺWe have received no further word from Salcedo in Chihuahua. That concerns me more than some ignorant Kentucky loutʹs tardiness,ʺ said a third voice, which then added, ʺWhat is it, Armando?ʺ

  ʺLet the beast outdoors before he makes an even worse mess in this ghastly place,ʺ Castal interjected impatiently.

  After the scraping of a chair, the door creaked open on rusty hinges a
nd a low growl sounded. Elise froze in horror. A dog! She looked around her, searching desperately for a hiding place, but the bayou grasses surrounding the cabin offered no refuge.

  ʺI think we have a visitor,ʺ Castal hissed as his voice neared the door.

  Elise pulled up her skirts and turned to run, but the dog, a small, keen‐nosed terrier, was upon her in seconds. His teeth held fast to the heavy wine velvet of her gown as he dug his feet into the mud and stopped her flight, growling all the while. She yanked at the skirt with one hand and attempted to slap the dogʹs head with her beaded reticule, but before she could break free, Raoul Castalʹs steely fingers clamped on her arm, biting into the tender flesh.

  ʺWhat have we here?ʺ he purred into her ear, ʺA lone female.ʺ He dragged her into the cabin after commanding his companion to have Armando release her.

  When he pulled the hood from her face, a hiss of breath escaped him. ʺWell, well, Madame Louvois, I had so hoped for the very great pleasure of encountering you againalthough I did not expect it to be quite this soon.ʺ

  He threw her onto a crude pine chair beside a rickety table, his eyes raking her body. When he saw her distended belly, a slow, obscene smile twisted his perfectly chiseled mouth, erasing all vestiges of handsomeness from his face.

  ʹʹQuinnʹs whelp,ʺ he said, stroking his moustache. ʺI have waited ten years for this day. Ten years! And now the House of Castal shall be avenged.ʺ

  Chapter Twenty‐Eight

  New Orleans, February 1807

  Santiago arrived in the city after an exhausting overland trek. He had fought Comanches, hidden out from Spanish soldiers, and bought extra powder and shot from French traders. At last in American territory, he feared to find that Elise had already taken ship for Washingtonor worse yet, returned to France with her diplomat husband.

  Cursing beneath his breath, he pushed the disquieting notion to the back of his mind as he rode True Blood up to the stately looking mansion with its wrought-iron grillwork. He dismounted, thinking that any wealthy Creole home in New Orleans eerily resembled all the others. He suddenly felt thrust back in time to when he had courted Juliette Castal.

  Odd, although the city remained vividly engraved in his memory, his fiancéeʹs face was a blurpretty and petulant but vapid, lacking substance like the heavy evening fog that hung miasmically in the Gulf twilight. What he saw instead was the face that had haunted his dreams across a thousand milesElise, with her strong, high cheekbones and brilliant violet eyes, eyes that pierced his very soul.

  Quinn had gleaned from his old friend Robert Priestly that William Charles Coe Claiborne was the logical person to question about Elise. As Santiago approached the guards standing in front of the governorʹs home, they raised their muskets, suspicious of the dirty, dangerous cibolero who looked as if he had just stepped off the Llano Estacado.

  ʺMy name is Santiago Quinn, and I must see Governor Claiborne. The matter is of the greatest urgency,ʺ he added in terse, precise English.

  ʺThe governor has his hands real full these days.ʺ The guard, a corporal with a heavy Kentucky accent and fetid breath, held his weapon steady on Quinn. The fellow looked like a Spanish buffalo hunter, but his English was too good.

  ʺIʹm here about Madame Elise Louvois.ʺ

  Corporal Wiggsʹs eyes narrowed. ʺWhat do ye know about the lady?ʺ The other two soldiers closed ranks around Quinn menacingly.

  In scant moments, Santiago was facing a haggardlooking Governor Claiborne across a walnut desk littered with official documents. The governor rose when Quinn was ushered in, and his sharp blue eyes appraised the foreigner.

  ʺI am given to understand you know something about Madame Louvois, Mr.

  Quinn. Please enlighten me at once. Sheʹs in grave danger.ʺ

  Santiagoʹs hands clenched into fists as he stepped toward the big desk that served as a barrier between him and the slight figure of the governor. ʺWhat do you mean by grave danger? Where is she?ʺ Claiborne sighed. ʺI was hoping you could tell me that. She vanished weeks ago while I was dispatching her brother on a sensitive mission.ʺ

  ʺVanished? You mean she was kidnapped?ʺ

  ʺNo.ʺ Claiborne seemed to hesitate, then said, ʺBefore I explain more, tell me what your interest is in the lady. Where did she meet you?ʺ

  A grim smile barely touched Quinnʹs lips. ʺIn St. Louis. I was her guide to Santa Fe, where she found her mysterious brother, who is apparently off on another political errand.ʺ

  ʺWhat exactly is between you and Madame Louvois?ʺ Claiborne asked in a frosty tone of voice.

  ʺAmong other things, the child she carries.ʺ He was rewarded by a shocked stiffening of Claiborneʹs body. ʺShe risked her life to save mine in Santa Fe. I owe her a great debt. Beyond that, the matter is personal, your excellency. Tell me what you know about her disappearance.ʺ

  ʺElise vanished during a soirée at the Shreveportsʹ. She left the ball in a carriage that she hired to take her to the outskirts of the city, following someone. She sent the driver back with word for me to send soldiers.ʺ He shrugged helplessly.

  ʺWhen we arrived, the cabin was deserted. I questioned the driver mercilessly, but he knew nothing.ʺ

  Santiagoʹs guts knotted. ʺDamn her for taking such risks! What the hell has happened to her?ʺ

  Claiborneʹs face became suffused with color. ʺHow the devil did she slip away from her escort of guards and follow someone into the night in herer, condition?ʺ

  His face pinkened as if his cravat were choking him.

  A grim smile touched Santiagoʹs face fleetingly. ʺYou donʹt know the lady as I dobelieve me, she would dare anything. Once she set her mind to it, she could slip away from Napoleonʹs secret police, much less a few soldiers.ʺ His body was as tense as a coiled spring.

  ʺThere is only one man I know of who would wish her harm in New Orleans, and if heʹs followed her here . . .ʺ Quinn blanched. ʺDo you know a man named Raoul Castal?ʺ

  Claiborneʹs face was blank with puzzlement for a moment. Then recognition dawned. ʺIsnʹt he an officer in New Mexico? Do you think heʹs part of the Mexican Associationʹs plot?ʺ

  ʺWorse than that, he has a personal vendetta against Elise. When I reached Santa Fe, he had resigned his commission and left the city shortly after she did.ʺ

  Santiago raked his fingers through his tangled hair in frustration. ʺI assume you donʹt know where he is?ʺ

  ʺNo,ʺ Claiborne replied, still puzzled.

  ʺWhat of the other members of the Castal family? Is Raoulʹs father still alive?ʺ

  ʺI believe the old man died several years ago.ʺ Claiborne eyed Quinn warily.

  ʺAnd now that I recall my wifeʹs Creole gossip, you disposed of Castalʹs brother.ʺ

  Things were becoming alarmingly clear to him.

  ʺWhat of Juliette?ʺ

  The harried governor stroked his chin in agitation. ʺThe sister, yes. I believe she was married to some planter fallen on evil days. He was killed in a duel a ways back. She was forced to sell their city house. I donʹt know what became of her after that.ʺ

  Santiago sighed, knowing how closed the Creole community was and how they hated the upstart Americans who had taken over their city. ʺI shall have to reenter polite society, it seems, now that I am no longer a wanted man. If I locate Juliette, I have a feeling she can lead me to Castaland Elise.ʺ

  <><><><><><><><><><><><> The Louisiana Back Country Elise could hear them arguing in rapid French through the thin plank walls of the crude cabin where she was confined.

  ʺI do not like this, Raoul. She is a lady, with a politically powerful French husband, not some common harlot whose loss will not be noted,ʺ Gaspar Doubert said. ʺEven now, the American governor searches for her.ʺ

  ʺSuch a fine ladycarrying the bastard of a Spanish renegade in her belly!ʺ Castal sneered.

  ʺIt is still an innocent child,ʺ Doubert replied, weakening.

  ʺThe woman will be disposed of according to my will,ʺ Castal said with finality.

  �
�We have delayed too long already. Three boatloads of guns are missing and badly needed for our cause. You will keep the Louvois bitch confined here at your plantation.ʺ

  ʺIt shall be as you wish, Raoul,ʺ Doubert replied in a cowed whisper.

  A few moments later, Castal opened the door and stepped inside the shanty, a feral smile on his face. ʺI trust you overheard our little contretemps? You should have learned back in Santa Fe not to anger me.ʺ

  She stared straight ahead, refusing to look at him. ʺYou may kill me, Castal, but your pathetic rebellion is doomed to failure.ʺ

  ʺI do not think so. And in the meanwhile, I will hold you and wait for Quinn.ʺ

  ʺIʹve told you, Quinn wonʹt come after me. He sent me away. He plans to live with the Lipan and marry an Apache woman.ʺ

  ʺYet you increase with his bastard. If for no other reason, he will come after his child.ʺ

  ʺHe does not know about the baby. I did not tell him.ʺ ʺOh, he knows. I am certain of it. And he will come after you, beautiful lying bitch that you are.ʺ He reached for a strand of her long ebony hair and curled it about his finger.

  She shuddered. He laughed.

  ʺA pity youʹve grown fat and misshapen with child, but then, I never was one to take the leavings of a savage. Much better to let him watch while I kill you and his brat. Then I will kill him, tooslowly.ʺ His eyes glittered with wild excitement now.

  ʺYouʹre as mad as Conal Quinn ever was.ʺ

  He slapped her, then caught himself and immediately calmed. ʺNo, I wonʹt mark youyet. Not until I have Quinn here to watch.ʺ

  Before her horrified eyes, he pulled out a set of devilʹs clawsbrass knuckle rings with jagged points on each knuckle. Slipping them on his fist, he lightly grazed her cheek, just missing her eye.

  ʺI have seen a man lose half his face to the devilʹs claw. I shall relish marking Quinn almost as much as watching his misery when I kill you and your bastard before his eyes.ʺ

  ʺQuinn wonʹt come,ʺ Elise replied stubbornly in English.

  New Orleans