by Carla Kelly
He turned and waved the Columbus papers to the others before folding them and tucking them into his tunic. “A promotion for the lieutenant, no?” he shouted, and his troops cheered.
Sarah dried her eyes. “May I go now, sir?” she asked. “I would remind you that I am an Englishwoman, and not entirely friendless in the world.”
“You may go.” The lieutenant eyed her donkey for a moment and then waved her on. “Because it is Christmas, and I am in a fine mood, we will not take your donkey.”
“So good of you,” she murmured. And may I be far from here when your superiors in Burgos shout you out of the room for the Columbus papers and strip you down to private.
The lieutenant helped her mount and handed her the reins. Sarah nodded in his direction and continued down the road to Ciudad Rodrigo.
When the troops were out of sight, she patted the donkey. “I should be sad, of course,” she said. “All that James and I worked for is gone, but truly, Señor Burro, I have carried out Joseph’s condition, have I not? I have returned a favor to a… friend.” She smiled. “And it would please the Three Kings.”
Her voice lingered over the words, and Lady Sarah Comstock made another resolve.
She arrived in Ciudad Rodrigo at dark, and was met at the city wall by a detachment of the 45th Foot. They looked scarcely better than the French troops, dirty and wearing uniforms long past repair or the efficacy of a scrubbing board. They smelled no better, either. Sarah wrinkled her nose and thanked the good Lord that it was winter.
She soon found herself in the middle of a group of officers, who hurried her into the stable that made up headquarters. She told them who she was, sat down, and calmly extended her right foot.
“If you would be so kind, sir, I have something that will interest you in that boot.”
With a puzzled smile, the officer pulled off her boot.
Sarah thanked him prettily and reached inside, extracting the wad of paper.
“Colonel Luís Sotomayor sends Christmas greetings to the Marquess of Wellesley and apologizes that he could not carry these to Lisbon in person.”
At the mention of Sotomayor’s name, the major grabbed the papers and took them to the table, spreading them out and then uttering a low whistle. The others crowded around in silence that was broken by loud huzzahs and soldierly embraces.
Sarah smiled at their exuberance. “Little boys,” she whispered. “Why must you go to war?”
The major remembered himself then and returned to Sarah. “The colonel?” he asked.
“He was wounded in ambush, but he is well enough. I told him that I would see the papers safely to Ciudad Rodrigo. Can I trust you to carry them to Lisbon?”
“Oh, most assuredly, Lady Sarah,” the major replied. “And you, too, of course. In no time, we’ll have you safely home in England.”
Sarah shook her head. “No, I think not.”
The major stared at her, but he was too well-bred to say what he thought.
“No, sir, I will return to that little village. The colonel will need my help in getting to Barcos, where his children await him.” She put up her hand when the major attempted argument. “I am over twenty-one, sir, and I know my own mind. I would ask the loan of another donkey, if you can spare one.”
One of the subalterns spoke up, his voice eager, impulsive. “Lady Sarah, you may take my horse. Nothing is too good for such a heroine.”
She smiled at his eagerness but shook her head. “I would not get very far on my way with such a steed, sir, before someone from some army or another relieved me of it. No, I prefer a donkey—and a modest one, at that.”
She looked at the major. “Sir, if you could spare a little food, it would not be wasted.”
“Of course, Lady Sarah,” he said, “but, really, I must protest.”
Sarah touched his arm. “I know that you mean well, sir, and I thank you, but I will return to the village and go to Barcos and you cannot stop me. If you confiscate Joseph’s donkey, I will walk.”
The officers were silent then, the air tense. Then the major smiled and shook his head. “Very well, if you are sure.”
“I have never been more sure.”
Sarah looked about her at the other men. “There are two little girls in Barcos waiting for their father. There will be no visit from the Three Kings without a little help from you.”
The major bowed. “I think we can find some candy about. You there, Monroe.”
“Sir,” said the eager man who would have given his horse away.
“That scarf about your neck is so colorful. Good enough for a Spanish lady of… of…”
“Four years, sir, I believe.”
“Excellent. And I believe I have a doll I was saving for my own daughter. I can easily procure another.”
“Capital,” Sarah said.
“Two dolls, sir,” said another officer. “For the other one who is…”
“Two.”
“You will stay the night, won’t you, Lady Sarah?”
“Oh, yes, and with pleasure,” Sarah said, taking off her gloves. “I have several letters to write.”
The letter to James’s Oxford don would be difficult.
She would not even mention the Columbus papers. That scholarship would have to rest now until someone else in distant years came across the papers again, if anyone ever did. She sighed, clasped her hands together, and then put Columbus from her mind.
The letter to her father would be no easier. He would grieve for James and not understand what she was doing.
He might even disinherit me over this marriage, she thought as she watched the officers’ cook bustle about over the simple meal. A pity Papa’s so high in the instep about deference due to English titles, she thought. He would only get all tight about the mouth if I told him that the Sotomayors were prominent in Spain at the time of Trajan, back when his Comstock ancestors were still painting themselves blue. Ah well. Father cannot tamper with that little legacy from my mother, and it will be enough to rebuild the estates and buy cattle. And perhaps if Papa has Sotomayor grandchildren with those beautiful blue eyes and blond hair…
The major stood before her again, suspiciously blurry.
Sarah dabbed at her eyes and accepted the battered cup he held out to her. She raised it high.
“A toast to Christmas, Lady Sarah, and a prosperous new year for all of us.”
“Hear, hear,” she said, and drank deep.
newcomer to Cedar Fort, Inc., Carla Kelly is a veteran of the New York and international publishing world. The author of more than thirty novels and novellas for Donald I. Fine Co., Signet, and Harlequin, Carla is the recipient of two Rita Awards (think Oscars for romance writing) from Romance Writers of America and two Spur Awards (think Oscars for western fiction) from Western Writers of America.
Recently, she’s been writing Regency romances (think Pride and Prejudice) set in the Royal Navy’s Channel Fleet during the Napoleonic Wars between England and France. She comes by her love of the ocean from her childhood as a Navy brat.
Carla’s history background makes her no stranger to footnote work, either. During her National Park Service days at the Fort Union Trading Post National Historic Site, Carla edited Friedrich Kurz’s fur trade journal. She recently completed a short history of Fort Buford, where Sitting Bull surrendered in 1881.
Following the “dumb luck” principle that has guided their lives, the Kellys recently moved to Wellington, Utah, from North Dakota and couldn’t be happier in their new location. In her spare time, Carla volunteers at the Railroad and Mining Museum in Helper, Utah. She likes to visit her five children, who live here and there around the United States. Her favorite place in Utah is Manti, located after a drive on the scenic byway through Huntington Canyon.
And why is she so happy these days? Carla looks forward to writing for an LDS audience now, where she feels most at home.
Table of Contents
Cover
Halftitle
Title
Page
Copyright
Contents
The Christmas Ornament
Make a Joyful Noise
An Object of Charity
The Three Kings
About the Author
Back Cover
