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Roman tamped down the desire to shoot quickly. With such a rifle, it was better to go for accuracy—maybe two shots a minute. He’d reload both at the same time. Maybe six to eight shots before this skirmish ended.
After his third shot, he spotted Belgrano in the middle of the retinue. A movement out of the corner of his eye distracted his positioning. “Shit!” He wheeled his horse around and went after Shelene, who was plunging headfirst into the front of the melee.
He caught her on the road only because he’d taken a steeper downward slope than Shelene had. His horse slammed into her, and he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her in front of him before he kicked the horse and made for the other side of the road.
She pounded his chest. “Let me go! I saw Durra! I saw them!”
“Stop it! Do you want to get us both killed?” He glanced toward the area of fighting, seeing the rest of the valley men had come in behind, preventing anyone from escape. Movement had died down, either because they had been shot or killed or just taken cover.
Shelene escaped his grasp, jumping to the ground and running behind the regimental horses. Roman jumped to the ground and followed her, rifle still in hand. He caught her and pulled her behind a large boulder. She struggled to aim her flintlock. A few more shots were fired before the captain yelled, “Put down your weapons!”
“You’ll let us go!” yelled Belgrano.
“No, Señor Belgrano. You are at the king’s mercy now.”
Belgrano stood in the middle of the wagons with a wrapped bundle to his chest. “You will let me ride away.” He held a flintlock next to the babe.
Shelene gasped and held his arm. “Roman!”
He took aim. “This is what I do, Shelene. Don’t make a sound.”
Antonio let out a wail; Shelene’s grip tightened. “Don’t let anything happen to him,” she whispered.
A shot rang out. Belgrano stood for a moment, slack jawed, then he toppled over. Antonio disappeared between the wagons with him.
Roman lowered the gun and looked around. The shot had not come from his gun. He glanced up to see Oliver standing on a rock pylon with a clear view of the killing field below, smoke coming from the end of his gun.
That’s how battles went. The noise building to a crescendo then what seemed like total silence. The military men who had dismounted, proceeded into the fray using their rifle butts to turn wounded men to their backs and retrieve the still dangerous weapons.
When Roman stood, Shelene ran toward the middle wagon where Belgrano had fallen. Durra stood then, holding the bundle close to her breast. Shelene reached them and wrapped her arms around Durra, cradling Antonio between them.
Roman followed, trying to rein in his rampaging emotions. He glanced at Shelene and then back to the men securing the sight. He stopped over Belgrano’s body, his face twisted in a last grimace. Oliver jumped from the pylon and stored the rifle with the strap over his shoulder.
When Roman reached Shelene, she held Antonio. She walked into Roman’s arms, and he let the building tension melt into a moment of pure contentment. “Is he all right?”
“Perfect. Just perfect. Durra was a shield, watching him, protecting him every moment.”
“Thank you, Durra.” He gripped Shelene’s shoulders. “Listen to me now, I want you to leave for home. Will you go with Oliver? There is no danger and if you leave now, you will be home before dark. I don’t want you here a moment longer than necessary.”
He kissed the top of Shelene’s head. Brahim, Hightower, Joaquin, Oliver and Roman’s other men had all dismounted. Roman waved the men over, giving instructions and assigning tasks, including the responsibility for his wife and son.
“We can stay,” Shelene implored.
“Will you, this once, do exactly as I ask? Not for my sake or yours but for Antonio? He’s had a trying day and he needs the peace of his own home and bed. So does Durra.”
She nodded, fighting back the tears. “You’ll be safe,” he promised. “We’ll follow along as soon as we can.
Roman watched them ride away. All the reasons he’d resisted settling in a life with Shelene were evident in the field around him. This was only the beginning of troubles in Spain. He could take Shelene and Antonio to England so they would be safe. But they wouldn’t be home. Was he to abandon those who supported the estates, who lived in the valley, who loved Shelene, Antonio and Commadore Hightower? Brahim and Sakina and the Al Meda family had devoted their lives building their own dynasty in Andalucía. So had Martina and her sons. Were they any less important? No. This was his home now. This was what he would have to fight for, for as long as it took.
* * * * *
Shelene was astounded about the casual conversation of Brahim, Oliver and her father, as if they hadn’t just rescued her son. As if they hadn’t just escaped with their lives. Durra rode stiff and frightened, and it had taken a battle of wills for Shelene to pry Antonio away from her. She understood.
She repositioned Antonio, who stared at her wide-eyed with his fist in his mouth. The only cry she’d heard was when her uncle had used him as a shield, and that cry was enough to tear Shelene’s heart out.
When they arrived at Las Colinas, the sun was just setting. Oliver helped her from the horse. Her legs were weak, her body stiff. She wanted her room. A bath. Food. As they all did.
The clatter of their arrival had summoned a flood of servants and stable hands. Tears formed in her eyes. She’d never been so happy to be fussed over and helped and directed. Mrs. Johns was there to collect Antonio. Sakina commanded others to prepare baths, shooing the men into the house for food and drink, almost like Roman earlier today when he knew exactly what to do.
