The White Knight

by Gilbert, Morris

  © 2007 by Gilbert Morris

  Published by Bethany House Publishers

  11400 Hampshire Avenue South

  Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

  www.bethanyhouse.com

  Bethany House Publishers is a division of

  Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan

  www.bakerpublishinggroup.com

  Ebook edition created 2011

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  ISBN 978-1-4412-3491-9

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.

  Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.

  Cover illustration by William Graf

  Cover design by Josh Madison

  To all the faithful readers of

  THE HOUSE OF WINSLOW NOVELS

  In 1986, The Honorable Imposter, the first novel in The House of Winslow, saw the light of day. At that time, no one could have predicted that the series would go through forty novels in the next two decades.

  During these years, I have met many of you who loved the series and have received hundreds of letters from so many who spoke of how the series gave you pleasure—and in many instances was helpful to you.

  I wish that I could meet each of you face-to-face to tell you how your faithfulness made the series possible, but since I can’t, let me assure you that I have always felt that you and I were partners in The House of Winslow.

  So I bid a fond farewell to all of you loyal friends of the Winslows. May God bless every one of you!

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  PART ONE

  March-April 1939

  1. “Why Are You Fighting?”

  2. The Little Fly

  3. A Picnic to Remember

  4. Luke’s Revenge

  5. The Prisoner’s Fate

  6. An Unexpected Trip

  PART TWO

  April 1939-August 1940

  7. New Beginnings

  8. Unheeded Warnings

  9. Turning a Blind Eye

  10. Last Chance

  11. A Promised Meeting

  12. Downed in Georgia

  PART THREE

  November 1940-June 1941

  13. The Haven

  14. End of the Road

  15. Rescued!

  16. Surprises for Luke

  17. Time Runs Out

  18. The Silver Eagle

  PART FOUR

  September 1941-December 1942

  19. Melosa . . . Joelle

  20. The Truth Comes Out

  21. Wisdom From Troubled Girls

  22. A New Life Together

  23. Home to Liberty

  24. A Reunion to Remember

  25. Christmas Surprises

  26. The Knights Fly Again

  27. Checkmate!

  Epilogue

  Special Acknowledgment

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Why Are You Fighting?”

  Melosa Chavez applied a drop of perfume from a fluted bottle to her forefinger, then dabbed it behind her right ear. She repeated the action on the left side, then held the bottle under her nose, closed her eyes, and inhaled.

  “Beautiful!” she exclaimed. “What a fine scent! Only a romantic man such as Luke Winslow would know how much such a gift would please a woman.”

  Melosa put the bottle down and studied her reflection in the mirror. She checked her ivory complexion and noted the rich color of her cheeks. Her mouth was wider than she would have liked, but it was well shaped and, she had been told, quite provocative. Her eyes pleased her. They had always been her best feature—nearly black, deep set and almond shaped, shaded by thick lashes. She nodded with approval, then reached up and smoothed her black hair, swept up into an ornate hairdo and anchored with a mother-of-pearl comb.

  Her gaze wandered down to her pale green dress. It was nipped in tightly at the waist, and she smiled in self-admiration at her tiny waistline and pleasing curves.

  “Why are you looking at yourself, Melosa?”

  She whirled at the voice of her ten-year-old sister, who must have tiptoed in on little cat’s feet. “Isadora, you have a bad habit of sneaking around!”

  “I wasn’t sneaking.”

  “Yes you were.”

  “I just came in to see what you were doing.” Isadora was a smaller edition of her older sister, with the same black hair and almond-shaped eyes. She was wearing a white dress and patent leather shoes, and her hair hung straight down her back. “You look at yourself in the mirror so much. I think you’re vain.”

  Melosa’s eyes glinted, but then she laughed. “I think you are right, Isadora. I am vain. I will have to ask God to forgive me.”

  “I’ll ask Him too.” Isadora nodded. “But I’m not surprised. You’re so beautiful it would be hard for you not to be vain.”

  Melosa went over and hugged Isadora, kissing her on the cheek. “You can be trying at times, but you do have a way of pleasing me. What have you been doing?”

  “I’ve been talking to Luke.”

  “You shouldn’t pester him with your questions all the time.”

  “That’s what Papa said, but Luke said it was all right. He said I could ask him anything I wanted to.”

  “Luke spoils you and Victor too. I suppose Victor’s firing questions at him right now.”

  “He asked him how many men he’s killed.”

  “Surely he didn’t ask him that!”

  “Yes, he did. But Luke wouldn’t talk about it. He’s killed a lot of them, I know. He’s shot down lots of those German planes.”

  “I don’t want you to pester Luke anymore with questions like that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not polite.”

  “How am I going to learn anything if I don’t ask questions? I have to find out things.” Isadora shrugged and tilted her head to one side. “Are you in love with him?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “You’re my sister. If you marry him, he’ll be my uncle or something.”

  “You are always asking about things that have nothing to do with you.”

  “If he’s going to be part of my family, I need to know everything about him.”

  “It’s not polite to ask direct questions like that.”

  “I think you’re in love with him.” Isadora moved around to get a closer look at Melosa’s face. “What does it feel like to be in love?”

  Melosa could not help laughing. “You’ve got all the curiosity of a cat, but I will tell you this.” Her face lit up with a brilliant smile. “It feels very good indeed.”

  “Is this the first time you’ve ever been in love?”

  “Yes . . . real love, that is.”

  “What do you mean? Is there a kind of love that isn’t real? Like when you let Ramon come calling on you? I knew you didn’t like him much.”

  “You see too much.”

  “You didn’t love him, though.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “But you love Luke, don’t you?”

  “Oh . . . all right. I’ll tell you. Yes, I do. Very much.”

  “Does he ever kiss you?”

  Melosa threw up her hands in exasperation. “What questions you ask, child!”

  “Well, does he?”

  Melosa looked down at her younger sister.
She remembered clearly when she herself had wanted to ask the same questions of some of her friends’ older sisters but had never found the courage. Isadora, however, would ask anyone anything.

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Because one day I’ll have a sweetheart, and I’ll need to know how to act, won’t I?”

  “Yes, you will.”

  “So . . . does he try to kiss you?”

  Melosa put her arm around her sister. “Yes, Isadora, he does.”

  “Does he respect you? That’s what Papa always asks.”

  “Yes, he respects me.”

  “I heard what Mama said to you last night. You thought I was reading, but I wasn’t. She said, ‘You are a pure young woman, Melosa. See that you stay that way!’ Are you doing that?”

  “Yes, I am. That’s enough questions. You go now and tell them I’ll be in to dinner in a moment.”

  “I’ll go talk to Luke.”

  “Don’t you dare tell him what we’ve been talking about. Do you hear me?”

  “I won’t—at least not unless he brings it up.”

  “He won’t mention it—not to you, anyway.”

  As Isadora left, Melosa found herself giggling. That child is impossible! Asking if my sweetheart kisses me. She touched her hair to be sure it was still in place, then went to the closet to find her shoes. Isadora doesn’t know how right she is. I am in love with Luke, and he’s in love with me. If he asks me to marry him, I will.

  ****

  “This war is horrendous!” Alfredo Chavez exclaimed in Spanish. He sat across the table from Luke Winslow, waiting for Señora Chavez to put dinner on the table. In his early fifties, Alfredo did not have a gray hair on his head. It was plain where his children got their black hair. He had penetrating dark eyes as well and was in good physical condition. Nevertheless, as he sat in the plainly furnished dining room, he exhibited a nervousness that Luke had noted before.

  “War is always terrible, Señor Chavez,” Luke replied. His Spanish had improved in the two years he had been in Spain to the point where he could discuss practically anything in the language.

  “But this one is at our front door. I don’t even know how it came about.” He stared curiously at Luke, who was a mystery to him. Physically the Americano was an impressive specimen—he had a handsome face with dark eyes and a generous mouth. He was about six feet tall with a muscular neck and powerful callused hands. His auburn hair had a glint of gold and a slight curl. A fine-looking man!

  Two things puzzled Chavez about the young American. One, why was he fighting a war in Spain? And two, how serious was he about Melosa? He didn’t feel that he could bring up the matter of his daughter, but he could ask about the war. “Why are you fighting in this war?” he finally asked as he leaned forward, his arms on the table. “This is not your war, not your country.”

  “No, it’s not, but this man Hitler threatens not only your country but the whole world.” Leaning back, Luke began to talk about General Franco’s attempted overthrow of the Spanish government and how Hitler had seized the opportunity to spread his fascist ideas. He had sent troops, transport planes, and fighter planes to support Franco in his bid to take over Spain, and the poor Republican government was slowly being throttled.

  Winslow stretched his legs out under the table and ran his hands through his hair. “If we don’t stop Hitler in his tracks, this whole thing will end in tragedy. The British are afraid of him. They’ve tried to appease him by letting him take over territories in Europe, but that will never satisfy him. The whole world wouldn’t satisfy that man! He’s proven it over and over. He’s clearly a madman, and I came to do my bit to stop him here.”

  “A very noble deed, Lucio. I think we are losing the war,” Chavez said heavily. “Unless things change in a big hurry, our government forces won’t be able to hold out.”

  Luke shot a quick glance at his host. He feared that Chavez was right, but still he tried to be optimistic. “We’ve had some setbacks, but we’ll hope to do better. Try not to lose your confidence. It’s a matter of effort.”

  “What again is the name the Germans give to their air force?”

  “They call it the Condor Legion, and it’s the big reason why Franco is winning. Hitler sent over some Me-109s—the best fighter planes in the world right now. And the Germans seem to have plenty of them.”

  “Are they better than our own planes?”

  “Oh yes. They’re faster and more heavily armed, and their pilots are excellent. Their training program is the best in the world, while our men get very little training.”

  The Condor Legion was indeed a formidable opponent. They were commanded by Wolfram von Richthofen, cousin of the famed Red Baron, the most successful fighter pilot of the Great War. Under Richthofen were a group of expert fighter pilots, the most successful being Erich Ritter. Ritter had shot down twenty-one Republican planes and was acclaimed all over Germany for his skill. He had painted his Me-109 a solid black with a knight fighting a dragon on the cowling. The media had dubbed him the Black Knight, and the phrase had caught the German imagination.

  “I’m afraid for my family,” Alfredo said.

  “It’s true that it’s a dangerous situation,” Luke agreed.

  “What should we do?”

  “I think you might want to consider moving farther inland. The German bombers could easily bomb this village.” Luke knew the family had deep roots in the northwestern part of Spain and had no desire to leave the area.

  “But there is no military target here, Lucio.”

  “Perhaps not, but it is right in their way, and you never know what they might do next. They may get a notion to simply bomb villages. They’ve done it before. Think what they did to Guernica back in ’37.”

  Señor Chavez cast a quick look at the younger man. “That was atrocious, the act of beasts! The entire world has condemned that terrible act!”

  Luke could feel the anger rise in him at the memory of the Germans’ vicious attack. Guernica was a small town without defenses or military importance, its citizens mostly Basque tradesmen. On the twenty-sixth of April, 1937, on a market day, German and Italian forces dropped bomb after bomb on the small town. Some of them were incendiary bombs, and a raging fire swiftly consumed the town. The world was horrified, but the Germans claimed it was a legitimate military target. Some of the Luftwaffe professionals were critical of the attack on Guernica, but the higher-ups claimed that the Basques were not friendly to the Germans and deserved to be bombed.

  “You don’t think they would do here what they did in Guernica, do you, Lucio?”

  “Yes, I think they would. You need to consider moving out to the country, perhaps renting a house in a rural area.”

  “I will consider it. It would be inconvenient, of course, but I must think of the safety of my family. Why don’t those women hurry up?” he said suddenly. “I’m hungry.”

  ****

  “Come. You’re wasting time, Melosa,” Nalda said as she poked her head into her daughter’s bedroom. Though heavier than she was when she was younger, Nalda was still the vivacious beauty she had always been. “Dinner is ready. You don’t want to keep Lucio waiting.”

  “Why not? The longer he waits, the happier he’ll be to see me. You know that, Mama.”

  “If you make him wait too long,” her mother said with a sly look, “he might find someone else—perhaps Raquel Mendez.”

  Melosa laughed. “He will not! Not Raquel. He’s in love with me.”

  “Perhaps, but all men need some encouragement. He’s a serious man. Not like Juan Denosa,” she said of one of Melosa’s suitors.

  “No. He’s not like Juan.”

  “Some of these soldiers have no respect for decent Spanish women.”

  “Most men don’t,” Melosa said, “but I know that Luke does respect me.”

  Señora Chavez paused. “You’re still a good girl, aren’t you, Melosa?”

  “Yes, Mama, I am.”

  “Be sure yo
u stay that way. Now go. Keep him happy. Feed him and flirt with him—that is the way to a man’s heart. Do you think he will ask you to marry him?”

  “I do not think so—not until the war is over. He’s very serious about his work . . . and that’s in his favor.”

  Nalda sighed. “I suppose that is best. Well, come now to dinner.”

  ****

  The visit with the Chavez family was a relaxing time for Luke. He enjoyed listening as the family talked about everyday things—Isadora and her brother, Victor, going on about their schoolwork and their friends, and Señor and Señora Chavez discussing the political situation. Melosa was telling Luke about her dream to go to America some day when Isadora started yanking on Luke’s arm, her face alive with curiosity.

  “Have you had many sweethearts, Luke?” she blurted.

  “Don’t ask such personal questions,” Señora Chavez said at once with a frown.

  But Luke only laughed. “Oh, it’s okay. The answer is no, not many.”

  “Do you have any other girlfriends you like as much as you like Melosa?”

  Melosa’s face flushed and she snapped, “That’s another impertinent question! Now, you be quiet.”

  Nevertheless, Isadora’s eyes were still on Luke.

  “No, none that I like half so much,” he replied with a wink at the little girl.

  Eight-year-old Victor, who was sitting on the other side of Luke, asked, “Will you marry her and take her to America?”

  Señora Chavez clapped her hands together. “What a question! You children stop pestering our guest.”

  But Luke always answered their questions. He had become very fond of them and almost felt as though they were his own siblings. They adored him in return and would rarely leave him alone. “I’ll tell you, Victor,” Luke said. “It’s not the best time for anybody to get married. War is hard on soldiers, you know. It’s much better to wait for peace.”

  “You mean because you might get killed?”

  Silence fell over the table, and Melosa was blinking back tears. “Don’t . . . don’t say that, Victor.”

  But Luke reached out and smoothed the boy’s hair back. “Soldiers sometimes do get killed, son. That’s why it’s best not to get married during a war.”