Turner's Woman

by Jenna Kernan

  He stared at his small rectangle of daylight and wished he could slip between the bars like a sparrow.

  When had he fallen in love with her?

  What did it matter? He’d turned her life upside down and dragged her nine hundred miles over mountains and deserts. She would be lucky to be rid of him. He smiled.

  They’d had a hell of a ride.

  “He wants you on that ship,” Price said again.

  Emma’s insides coiled and clenched like an injured snake as she balked against what Jake asked of her.

  “But he needs help.”

  “I am writing to the American ambassador in Mexico, the president of Mexico and to the president of the United States demanding Turner’s release. He has friends here.”

  “How long will that take?”

  He glanced away.

  “Months?”

  “With luck,” he admitted.

  “Can you assure me that they will not harm Jake?”

  Price stared at the floor. She had her answer.

  “We have to get him out.”

  When he met her gaze, she recognized the fear in his eyes. How many times had she sat impotent, frozen by her doubts? Now she witnessed the palsy in another. He would not act.

  “You have to understand. I have a wife and children. This is my home. I must live here after you have gone.”

  “I understand.” She was alone.

  “You must appreciate my position.”

  Emma inclined her head. “Yes, Mr. Price. I wonder if you would do me one favor. You gave Mr. Turner a tour of the town. Would you do the same for me? I should like to see all the streets, know every house and business.”

  “Certainly.”

  “And the fort?”

  “They will not permit you inside.”

  “You have been to see him. You know where he is.”

  “I could draw a map.”

  She smiled.

  Perhaps she was not alone after all.

  Emma suffered the indignity of being loaded in a sling and hoisted up to the decks of the Loriotte like a load of tallow. As netting descended to puddle on planking, ropes fell upon her and she lost her footing, sprawling on the deck like some catch of the sea.

  Billings cleared the lines and helped her to recover herself. She accepted his callused hand as he led her to his cabin. The door clicked shut and he offered her a chair. She realized once seated that all the furniture was anchored to the floor. The captain poured her a cup of tea and waited until she took a sip.

  “Now then, Mrs. Martin, how can I assist you?”

  Emma turned aside and lifted her skirts drawing out the letters entrusted to her. Then she laid them with the empty satchel upon the table.

  “Mr. Turner asks that you take charge of these. The inner lining of this leather bag is a map of our passage. The letter is for President Jackson. Mr. Turner requests that you see they find their way to a friendly ship headed for the East Coast.”

  Billings collected the items. “I will see it done. Now what about you? I could transport you to Vancouver, a British port.”

  “I have decided to stay in California.”

  “You realize that if evidence implicating him is found—” the captain stared hard at her “—they’ll hang him.”

  “You mean if they get me to admit to our purpose.”

  Billings nodded. “I agree with Turner. Your presence here jeopardizes him. The safest thing is to get you clear of this mess.”

  “Turner thinks that Monterey is vastly underdefended. What is your opinion?”

  The captain gave her an assessing look. “He is correct.”

  “What would Vallejo do if Mr. Turner escaped?”

  Now the captain’s eyebrow quirked as his interest peaked. “What are you up to, Mrs. Martin? Because I won’t risk my ship.”

  “Nor would I ask you to. I just wondered if some diversion might not draw men away from the fort. Then perhaps a person could enter and release Mr. Turner.”

  “You?”

  She nodded.

  “Do not think that being a woman will protect you in this matter. If captured, you will certainly both hang.”

  “I cannot assure my success, but I can assure you that I will not be taken alive.”

  The captain choked on his tea. He stared in amazement as if she had changed color before him. Then he nodded. “I see why Turner brought you along. You are not at all what you appear.”

  “What do I appear?”

  His forehead lifted. “Biddable.”

  She smiled. “I was once. But I cast that off, as a snake sheds his skin. Perhaps appearing to pose no threat makes me a greater one.”

  Billings pinned her with a look of uncertainty. “Do you have a plan?”

  Emma leaned forward and explained her scheme.

  The captain’s expression changed as she talked, the scowl gradually lifting from his face.

  “Risky.” He scratched beneath his chin. “Might work.” He stared at the cabin ceiling for a moment than slapped a hand upon the table, making Emma jump. “All right then. We’ll do it.”

  Emma smiled, breathing her relief away.

  He rose and extended his hand. “We shall sail to Santa Barbara tomorrow night on the second tide. Whatever the outcome, I will not see you again.”

  Emma accepted his hand. “Thank you, Captain Billings. I hope your voyages continue to bring you good fortune.”

  Billings held open his cabin door. “I will make the delivery you requested. Fair winds, Mrs. Martin. I will add you to my prayers.”

  “Fair winds to you, as well, Captain.”

  Francisca presided over her table like a queen. Emma sat alone as the only guest, beside John. She stared at Jake’s empty seat.

  “So you see the town and visited the Captain Billings,” said Francisca.

  “Yes, I have had a busy day.”

  Francisca waved away the servers, waiting until they left the room. “How will you get inside of the fort?”

  Emma stared at John who shrugged. She returned her attention to his wife.

  “I plan to take a uniform at gunpoint.”

  Francisca made a face. “You don’t speak Spanish. How will you tell him to disrobe?”

  “I feel the gun will help with communication.”

  “Do you remember Maria Pardo? You meet her at the banquet. She is wife to the candle maker. She has nine children, do you know? A lot of mouths to feed on the candles. Peoples here are making their own candles. Only the ships buy from Pardo. And you know, sometimes the ships, they do not come. Señora Pardo makes the sewing to help bring the money.”

  Emma stared wondering what in the world Francisca was babbling about sewing and candles.

  “Maybe you like to know what Señora Pardo is sewing? New coats for winter soldiers. I see a hat there, too. Is not that better than taking at gun pointing?”

  Emma’s eyes went wide as she gaped at Francisca.

  “Now dear,” said John, “I told Emma we could not get involved.”

  “No, you said you could not involved. I am listening to you on the porch. And you are not get involved. I am.”

  She stared her husband down. Emma was impressed.

  But she did not understand this woman. She was born in Mexico. This was her country. She must not want her homeland to lose this territory. John Price was American despite his change in paperwork. His allegiance she understood.

  “Francisca, America is not your country. Why are you helping me?”

  She laughed. “Is that why you risking your neck, for your country?” She shook her head. “I do not think so. You risk for love of this man, yes?”

  Emma lowered her gaze. She could not deny her feelings. “I don’t know if I love him, but I don’t want him to hang.”

  “I don’t want him to hang, too, but I am not rescuing him. You don’t wanting him to hang enough to risk your life. That is love, Emma.”

  She gaped, knowing in the marrow of her bones that Francis
ca was right. How had it happened? She once thought him an ogre like her father. But he had changed, hadn’t he? Yes, he respected her enough to tell her the truth and to trust her.

  Francisca interrupted her thoughts. “I am helping a woman rescue her man. I cannot stop myself. I am such a romantic.”

  Emma found tears on her cheeks. “I’ll never be able to thank you.”

  “You name a baby after me. That is the best thanks.”

  “A baby!” Emma gasped.

  Francisca laughed. “You do not think there will be babies?” She waved her hand at the ridiculousness of that.

  “She’ll have to get him out of the fort first,” said John.

  “Yes, yes. First the fort, then the babies.” She wrapped an arm about her husband and one about her swollen abdomen. “Everyone should have babies.”

  Emma drained her wineglass. She could not think beyond tomorrow evening.

  Chapter Twenty

  Emma pulled the leather brim of the navy-blue cap low upon her forehead and next tugged at the short coat. She kept her gaze on the ground as she approached the fort.

  The doors flung open and men ran from within. Motionless beside the shadowed wall, she saw a man rush up the hill and through the doors. She decided to do the same.

  The tight-fitting pants clung to her legs. She felt exposed, but the freedom of movement made running nearly effortless. She dashed through the gate and past a man running with an armload of shovels.

  The smell of smoke clung to his clothing. It was hard to wait until the tannery was in full blaze, but she forced herself. Now all seemed in disarray.

  Running across the courtyard, she searched for the correct doorway. Her heartbeat echoed her pounding feet as she reached the archway and ducked within.

  Nearly there.

  She found the stairs and raced to the bottom colliding with a man running up. The impact drove Emma back and she fell before him on the step.

  He dropped the rope he carried and shouted at her. She understood not a word but quickly sprang to her feet, keeping her head down and trying to slip past him, but he blocked her way.

  His fingers gripped her arm. Emma drew her pistol. The man still shouted as she pressed the steel barrel into his stomach and cocked the trigger.

  Their eyes met and he stilled, gaping, his black mustache framing his pink mouth.

  “Get back or I’ll kill you.”

  He descended the stairs backward. At the bottom she let him inch away, feeling safer with some distance between them. Already his gaze swept about for some means to disarm her. She knew at close range he might easily wrestle the gun away. But at four feet, she had the advantage. When they reached the door she sought, she motioned with the tip of the pistol.

  “Open it.”

  His hand trembled as he slid back the bolt. With a tug, the door swung out.

  Another sweep with the gun. “Inside.”

  He backed in, hands raised. She could not see into the blackness beyond.

  “Jake?”

  He pushed past the soldier. “Emma? Damnation! You’re supposed to be on that ship!”

  “Get his clothes.”

  Jake had the coat and hat on in a blink. The rest he left, pushing the man into the darkness and sliding the bolt home. Then he turned and grinned at her.

  “Never been gladder to see anyone in my life.” His hug was quick and brutal, making her ribs pop.

  “We have to go.”

  She handed him his pistol, retaining her own, then dashed up the staircase.

  “Grab that rope,” she ordered. To her astonishment, he did.

  Together they raced across the open yard and through the gate. They darted down the hill, first toward the fire and then veering off between two houses.

  “Drop the rope,” she shouted and heard it fall behind him.

  He ran beside her now. “Who set that fire?”

  “Billings’s men.”

  “Brilliant.”

  Behind the houses Emma slowed. On seeing the shadowy figure before him, Jake drew his weapon.

  Emma lifted her hand. “No.”

  Jake lowered his pistol.

  Francisca stepped forward, dressed in black skirts and shawl. She looked like a living shadow as she kissed Jake.

  “She did it.” Then she turned to Emma and handed her the reins. “I knew it. Go quick before you are missed.”

  “Did Scout give you any trouble?”

  “No. I think he likes the women.” She patted Emma’s horse.

  “How’d you get Scout back?” asked Jake.

  “I rescued him first.” She grinned.

  Jake scowled, but wasted no time swinging up into the saddle as Duchess nickered her welcome. Tied to his saddle were the packhorse and the two mules.

  “Good luck,” whispered Francisca and she kissed Emma. “Remember, the first girl.”

  Emma nodded, pulling away, then hurrying into her stirrups. She led the way from the town, skirting past the rear of houses. Behind them the shouts echoed in the night.

  The wind in Jake’s hair pleased him more than he could say. He had Emma to thank for that. Imagine her rescuing him. The thought made him laugh. He wondered whose idea it was to dress Emma like a soldier. Even in the dark, her curves revealed her. He expected it was John. He should have come himself. He had strange ideas about women that Jake did not share, including allowing Francisca to walk all over him. Why on earth had John allowed his wife to hold the horses for them, and in her condition? Emma pointed toward the grove of redwoods and they galloped across open ground.

  Once out of the city and hidden in a grove, he pulled to a walk. The horses could not maintain that pace for long. Emma slowed Scout. He couldn’t wait to hear all about the rescue. He glanced about.

  “Where are the others?” he asked.

  Her forehead wrinkled at his question. “What others?

  “John and Billings.”

  “Captain Billings is preparing to sail and John refused involvement.”

  “He what? That’s impossible. How did you get in? How did you get the horses and the uniform?”

  “I stole the horses from the corral and the uniform from a seamstress.”

  He gaped. Words would not come. She had done this? Emma Lancing, who, by her own admission, lived under her father’s boot heels until he found her. Impossible.

  “But, but who made the plan?”

  Now her expression changed from confusion to irritation. “I did.”

  “The fire?”

  “My idea, accomplished with the assistance of Captain Billings’s third mate.”

  “Yours?” His voice challenged.

  “You act as if I never had a thought of my own.”

  He stared at this stranger before him. There would be no outside assistance. Emma organized and accomplished their escape single-handedly. Another thought struck him and a ripple of fear washed cold down his spine.

  “You could have been killed!”

  She lifted her chin. “I know.”

  “Or captured.”

  She nodded and he realized that she fully understood the ramifications of her action. And she did it, anyway.

  “But why?”

  She dropped her gaze and then shifted it back to him. “They were never going to release you. I had to do something.”

  “No, you didn’t. Billings didn’t, neither did Price.”

  “I’m your partner.”

  She was, in every sense of the word. That realization forced him to swallow hard. He owed her more than he could ever repay.

  “Thank you, Emma.”

  Her smile curled and his heart squeezed. She was remarkable.

  “They underestimated you. We all did. Why is that?”

  She shrugged. “I am a woman.”

  He knew the truth in this. Formidable, resourceful and a woman. “That makes you the perfect spy—the perfect partner.”

  She cast him a look of such longing his heart ached. Obviously, Emma took pa
rtner to mean something quite different than he’d intended. Her eyes glowed warm and a smile curled her lovely mouth. He wrestled with his breathing, which began galloping like a wild mustang.

  She nudged Scout forward until her leg brushed his.

  “You sure got us out of a fix,” he said.

  “A fix that I got us into. It was entirely my fault you didn’t shoot Scout.”

  He watched her lips as she continued speaking, showing flashes of white teeth and the sensual curve of her mouth as she formed the words like a kiss and, God help him, he wanted that kiss.

  “How do you do it?” he asked.

  She cocked her head, puzzled. “Do what?”

  “Make me want to kiss you?”

  She drew in a sharp breath and held it, but did not retreat as he leaned toward her, grasping her arms. She stiffened for an instant and then something seemed to break loose inside her. Somehow she was in his arms, sitting before him on Duchess and her arms pulled him down for another kiss. He dipped his head relishing the warmth of her lips and the sweet tugging of her arms as she urged him on.

  Something brushed her leg and Jake jerked. Emma found Scout preparing to take another hunk out of him. Jake dragged the military cap off his head and swung at her mount.

  “I should have shot you when I had the chance.”

  Emma laughed. “He’s jealous.”

  Jake looked doubtful. “More like he noticed my distraction and thought it a good opportunity to take another piece out of me.”

  Emma slid to the ground and collected Scout’s reins. “Is that what I am, a distraction?”

  Jake sighed. “We best get on. Where were you heading?”

  She mounted up and shortened the reins. “East. Vallejo has to handle the fire and he only has twenty-nine men. He can’t spare them for a search.”

  “Oh, yes, he can, if the task is important enough. I believe he’ll send some of them after us. They’ll alert the missions, as well, so we’ll find no help there.”

  “Can we outride them?”

  “Not with pack animals.”

  Jake considered his choices. Billings would be sailing before he could reach the ship. To the east, the missions would be on watch.