The Amazon Quest (House of Winslow Book #25)

by Gilbert, Morris

  “We are a little hungry. It was a longer trip than I thought.”

  “You came from Santarém?”

  “Yes. We’ve been staying with the Reverend Pettigrew and his wife.”

  “And how is the good minister?”

  “Very well. He sent this letter to you.” Emily fished into her pocket and brought the letter out.

  “Come in, and we will eat together. Samuel, you come, too.”

  “Praise God. I’ll come, too.”

  The meal was simple. Sarita moved quickly and surely, with a native grace. Emily noticed that Wes watched her with unusual curiosity. I’ll have to be careful. She’s a beautiful young woman, but the last thing Wes needs is a romance with a native beauty.

  Emily waited until the strong tea was served by the young woman. After sipping it, she said, “This is delicious.”

  “I must have my tea,” Rey smiled, wiping his mustache. “One of the few items of civilization that I demand.”

  “I know you’re wondering what we’re doing out here,” Emily said, “so let me tell you why we’ve come.” She began to explain, and Adriano and his granddaughter listened carefully. Emily made the story as brief as possible, and she ended by saying, “ . . . and so we were hoping that Mr. Marlowe would help us. We’ve been unable to find anybody who would take us into the Guapi country.”

  Sarita Rey shook her head. “It would be very dangerous. The Pettigrews are right. You should find a more civilized tribe.”

  “Are the Guapi so dangerous?” Wes asked the young woman.

  “I think they are. My grandfather and I would not go into their country at all.”

  “But Mr. Marlowe has gone, and they haven’t harmed him.”

  Adriano shrugged his shoulders. “He says God sent him—that God takes care of His own. He’s a most unusual man.”

  “Have you known him long?”

  “No. He simply appeared one day and asked the directions. Sarita and I tried our best to talk him out of it, but he simply smiled and said God was sending him.”

  “I fear for him,” Sarita said suddenly. “The Guapi are not trustworthy.”

  “Well, I would like to at least talk to him. Is he here now?”

  “You are fortunate. He is very punctual with his timetables. He gives us the time when he will be back, and he has never failed yet. He will be back either today or tomorrow.”

  Emily breathed a sigh of relief. “That is fortunate. Does he stay gone long at a time?”

  “Sometimes several weeks. I think he lives pretty much as the Guapi live, although I don’t know how.”

  Emily’s mind worked quickly, and she said, “Would it be all right if we set our tents up outside on your property?”

  “Of course, Miss Winslow. You would be most welcome to stay in our house.”

  “Actually,” Emily smiled, “we’re anxious to try our equipment out. This might be a good time.”

  “Then, at least, you must have dinner with us tonight. I expect Ian will come in late this afternoon.”

  ****

  Emily and Wes enjoyed the meal. Sarita spoke excellent English, and when Wes insisted on helping her cook, she had laughed at him. “The men I know of our people do not cook.”

  “Probably just as well,” Wes nodded. “I’m not much of a cook. How did you learn to speak English so well?”

  “I stayed at the mission school with the Pettigrews.” Sarita turned and looked at the tall young man. “How old are you?” she asked.

  “Why, I’m twenty.”

  “Are you married?”

  “No, not me,” Wes said.

  “Most of our men and women marry young here. One of my friends got married last week. She was only fourteen.”

  Wes laughed. “When I was fourteen I don’t think I could even wave good-bye correctly.”

  “You take pictures?”

  “Yes, I do. That’s what I want to do. By the way, if you don’t mind, I would like to take some pictures of you and your grandfather and of your house.”

  Sarita turned and smiled at him. “That would be very good. I have no picture of my grandfather.”

  “He’s very handsome. I’ll take some of him and some of you.”

  Emily was sitting at the table talking with Adriano. She had enjoyed the meal and had taken an instant liking to the old man. She saw that he had a great deal of wisdom, and there was a gentleness about him that she instinctively liked. “You have more family, senhor?”

  “No, alas, Sarita is all. My son married her mother. She was a German woman. They were very happy, but both of them died of smallpox.” His eyes went to the young woman, and wistfully he said, “I miss them very much, but I have Sarita to remind me of them.”

  “She’s a very beautiful young woman.”

  “Yes, she is,” he sighed and shook his head. “I do not know what she will do. She is better fitted to live in a town than out here on the bank of this river.”

  “Perhaps she will—” Emily broke off as Rey suddenly stood to his feet. She had heard nothing, but he said, “I hear someone coming. Probably Ian.”

  Eagerly Emily and Wes turned to the door, Emily rising to her feet. So much depended upon this man, and she could not help but pray again that God would give her and Wes favor with him.

  “It’s him. I know his step,” Sarita said. She went over and opened the door, and a figure filled it. “Come in, Ian. We have guests,” Sarita said.

  Emily stepped forward with a smile—but suddenly the smile faded. She heard Wes make a peculiar noise, a gasp of sorts, and then she clenched her hands into fists.

  The man who stepped in the door was the man she had known as James Parker!

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “Can We Trust Him?”

  As Emily stared at the face of the man who had paused in front of her, she was intensely aware of the small things that ordinarily would have passed her notice. A large fly was buzzing around her ears, making a droning sound as it circled and then lit on her cheek. Without consciously willing it, she brushed it away and was aware of its departure. From far off she heard the sound of some sort of bird. It was a shrill clicking sound that seemed to be saying, “Jumpah! Jumpah! Jumpah!”

  For a single instant she shifted her gaze from the man she had known as James Parker and saw that Wes was transfixed. His eyes were open wide in a staring gaze, and his mouth dropped open. His back was stiff. He’s as shocked as I am. The thought rushed through Emily’s mind, and then she was aware that Adriano was talking.

  “ . . . and these of your countrymen have come seeking help.” Adriano turned and halted, for he saw the strained expression on Emily’s face and noted also that there was a paleness about her that he had not noticed before. “Are you feeling ill, Miss Winslow?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Ah, well, the heat in this part of the world sometimes strikes visitors very hard. So this is my friend Ian Marlowe.”

  The man identified as Marlowe did not speak for a moment. He was wearing a pair of faded cotton drill trousers worn thin with many washings and a shirt equally worn. He had taken off a sun helmet, and the lower part of his face was tanned to a golden hue. His tawny hair was as Emily remembered it, but longer and slightly curly. He did not smile but said, “It’s been a long time, Emily.” Then turning to Wes, he nodded briefly. “You’ve grown up.”

  Adriano and Sarita were caught up by the little drama, and it was Sarita who exclaimed, “So you know each other!”

  “A long time ago we did,” Marlowe said. His face was thin, and he seemed to be, on the whole, planed down from the man that Emily and Wes remembered. He had no excess flesh, but he was the same.

  “Perhaps you would like to have tea and something to eat,” Adriano said. Turning to his granddaughter, he said, “Sarita, we will fix something. I know Ian is hungry.”

  Afterward Emily could not remember how she got through those first moments. She sat down and listened as best she could to the conversation that we
nt on chiefly between Adriano and Ian Marlowe. Marlowe spoke quietly of his journey, minimizing the hardships, and even as she tried to pull herself together, she was aware that there was something different about this man who had so deeply wounded and deceived her and her family. She could not identify it, but there was something in his face, in his manner, even in his eyes that had changed. She saw that Wes was very quiet, and finally, after they had eaten a meal, Sarita and her grandfather left the room.

  “This is awkward for you, I’m afraid,” Marlowe said as he toyed with a cup half filled with tea. His hands were brown and hardened, and they appeared to be very strong.

  “My real name is Ian Marlowe.” The voice was quiet, and Marlowe took a sip of the tea, then set the cup down. “I was running from the law, and I changed it to James Parker. That was back when I was nineteen years old.” He studied Emily carefully, then shook his head. “This must be a terrible shock for you.”

  “What are you doing here?” Emily whispered, her throat tight. “I never expected to see you again.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t. Well, let me tell you all that’s happened to me since I left your house. I remember when Captain Ramsey came, and I want to say at once that everything he told you was true. I did try to run away under fire, and I got shot in the leg and blinded by gas. Jared came out and carried me in. I don’t remember much about that. I didn’t even know who it was.

  “I woke up in the hospital, and we were in the same ward. He was in poor shape, but the doctors thought he’d pull through.” Something changed in Marlowe’s voice, and he did not speak for a time.

  Emily could hear Sarita and Adriano talking outside as she waited for him to continue.

  “What Captain Ramsey said about me was true. I was a coward and everything that a man shouldn’t be. That includes a drunk, a woman chaser, a liar, and a thief. I was all of that.”

  “You put on a pretty good act when you came to our house,” Wes said, and bitterness tinged his tone. He was clasping his hands tightly together so that the knuckles were white, and as he stared at Ian Marlowe, his brown eyes were filled with animosity.

  “I could always put on a pretty good act. That’s what a confidence man and a crook does.” Marlowe spoke of himself as if he were speaking of another person, and a sadness seemed to sweep across his features. He reached up and rubbed his forehead in an absent gesture, then shook his head. “That seems like a thousand years ago. Well, anyway, the doctors thought Jared would pull through. But it wasn’t the wound that killed him. I don’t know if Captain Ramsey told you or not.”

  “No, or if he did, I can’t remember,” Emily said.

  “He had been sick before the battle started. He was one of those men who wouldn’t give up. You probably know that.”

  “That’s the way he was. What was wrong with him?”

  “Could have been any one of half a dozen illnesses. You’ll have to remember we were living like rats sleeping in the mud. Every kind of disease you can imagine plagued the troops. I know he had trench foot, but all of us did. I think it was pneumonia. He had lost so much weight even before the battle started. I know Captain Ramsey tried to get him to go to the hospital, but he wouldn’t.”

  Emily was still half dazed by the sight of the man she had hoped never to see again. “What happened in the hospital?”

  “When I woke up, and my eyes cleared up from the gas attack, I was in the bed across from Jared. He couldn’t write, so I started writing the letters for him. Everything I said in the letters about him was just as he dictated them. The only lie in them was when I told about what a wonderful man James Parker was.”

  “Why did you do it?” Wes burst out. “Why would you do such a thing?”

  “In those days I did anything that would help me. I built myself up. I was thinking of how I could use Jared. I found out pretty soon that your family had money, and I planned to show up and get what I could out of it.”

  “How . . . how did he die?”

  For the first time Ian Marlowe seemed unable to speak. He looked down at his hands and studied them, letting the silence run on. Finally he said, “I know there’s not a reason you should believe anything I say, but I’ve had a lot of time to think it over, and I think it was the way he died that I could never get away from. I still haven’t.” He looked up, and a strange grimace twisted his lips as he continued. “He failed a little bit every day. I saw enough in the hospital to be pretty sure that he wouldn’t make it. As a matter of fact, I asked the doctor once, and I could tell that he had given up hope on Jared. He got weaker and weaker until finally he couldn’t take much nourishment. We didn’t have much nursing there, and I had to try to get a little food down him.”

  “Was he conscious when he died?”

  “Oh yes. He had times when he would go into what was like a coma. But the night he died, he and I were alone. I heard him speak. It must have been about three o’clock in the morning, and it shocked me. He had been in a coma for over twenty-four hours, hadn’t said a word, but his voice was clear. I crawled off of my cot and went over and sat down beside him and looked at him. There was enough light to see his face, and I saw that his eyes were open. His voice was stronger, too, but his breathing was very shallow. I said, ‘Jared, do you want me to get the doctor?’ And he just shook his head. And he said, ‘No, I’m past all that.’

  “I got some water, and he drank a sip or two, but I could tell he was failing. His breathing was very shallow, and I was afraid.”

  “What were you afraid of?” Emily demanded.

  “I don’t know. I’d seen enough death, so it wasn’t that, but something about Jared had always frightened me a little bit. He was such a . . . such a different kind of man. All the men knew it. They all respected him and loved him.”

  “What did he do then?”

  “He talked about all of you. You remember I put some of what he said in a letter, but I didn’t put this part in,” Marlowe said. “He reached out his hand, and as I took it, I was shocked at how frail it was. He had been such a strong man when I first knew him, but now there was nothing there. No strength, just bones under the skin. His eyes were sunken back in his head, as it happens with pneumonia, and I had to lean forward to catch his words.”

  “What did he say?” Wes asked hoarsely.

  “He talked to me about what kind of man I was. He didn’t accuse me or anything like that, but I knew what he was saying was true. I’d been a rotter all my life.”

  Here Marlowe swallowed and seemed to have difficulty finding the right words. “He told me,” he said finally, “that Jesus was my only hope, and he begged me to turn from what I was and call out to Him to save me.”

  Emily started, for the shrill cry of a monkey very close to the house broke the silence of the room. She watched as Marlowe took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his brow, and she saw that his face was paler.

  Probably part of his act, she thought. He’s trying to look like a repentant sinner.

  “His last words were of his family. He whispered how much he loved you, and he asked me to write and tell you that he was thinking of you when he went home. ‘Tell them I’ll be waiting.’ That’s what he said.”

  Emily could not keep the tears back then. She turned to one side, groped in her pocket for a handkerchief, and valiantly struggled to contain herself.

  Marlowe did not speak for a while but sat there loosely in the chair. He studied the two and finally shrugged, saying, “I planned to show up and get what I could out of you, and that’s what I did.”

  “Didn’t my brother’s words have any effect on you at all?” Wes demanded.

  “Not then, but I never forgot them. It’s like I buried them somewhere deep down and shut the lid.”

  Emily felt a hardness growing in her, and she said bitterly, “You made a fool out of me!”

  Ian Marlowe’s face changed slightly. “I know you won’t believe this, but after I got to your house, things began to happen to me. For one thing, I�
�d come there to get what I could out of you, but after I met you all, I began thinking of what Jared had said just before he died. It ate away at me, and I couldn’t forget it. I tried to shut it out, but I couldn’t.” He broke off and hesitated, then he lifted his head and looked directly at Emily. “Not everything I said to you was a lie, Emily.”

  Emily blinked, for she knew he was referring to the feelings they had expressed toward each other. She had forced all of this out of her mind over the last few years, but now it came rushing back, so that she could remember the small things. She had never had this kind of response to any man before or since, and now she thought of those days with pain. “You’d have taken from us what you could if Captain Ramsey hadn’t come and exposed you.”

  “I expect you’re right about that, but something was beginning to change inside even back then because of what Jared had told me about his faith. You want to hear the rest?”

  “All right. We might as well,” Wes said evenly.

  “After I left your house I went downhill—even for me, which is saying a lot. I went to New York and kept up my old ways. It wasn’t long before I found myself sick and broke and ready to jump off a bridge.” His voice changed, and just a fraction of a smile touched his lips. “I went to a men’s rescue mission. It was called the Water Street Mission. I went in just to get something to eat, but I got more than that. Here is the part you won’t believe, Emily, or you either, Wes. I found Jesus Christ during this time. You don’t know how it is with a derelict, but I reached the bottom. One night I came in starving and sick just for the meal, you understand, but the preacher got up, and he began to preach. I’d heard it all before, but suddenly I knew that this was my last chance.” Marlowe brushed his hands across his face, and his eyes dropped, and his voice lowered. “I don’t know. He preached on John 3:16. I’d heard it a lot, but for the first time I suddenly knew in my heart that God did love sinners. And I was a sinner. I began to cry, and when the preacher asked those who wanted God to come down to the front, I stumbled forward. I knelt down there, and he prayed with me. When I got up I was a new man.”