Jamie stared after Royall’s retreating back. Why was she screaming for Elena? Nothing was the same anymore. Carl was still away, and so was his father. And what business was it of Royall’s or Elena’s what he did to his soldiers? They belonged to him and he could do whatever he wanted with them. If he stayed, Elena would give him a tongue-lashing. She never hollered at Carl the way she did at him.
He was sick of Elena always telling him what he could and couldn’t do. “Don’t touch the girls, Jamie,” she would always remind him. “They’re here as servants, not as playmates for you.... Grow up, Jamie.” Always telling him, “Grow up, Jamie.”
Well, he didn’t want to grow up. He didn’t know how. He liked the girls and he liked to play with them. They felt soft and he liked it when they giggled.
Which one of the brats had told on him again? He’d warned them and warned them, but they were just like everybody else. They didn’t obey him; nobody obeyed him or even cared what he said. When he found out which one of them told on him again, he’d slap her good. What was wrong with playing ball or holding one of the squirming little girls and tickling and tickling until they almost couldn’t catch their breath. But Elena didn’t like it; she never liked anything he did. She’d cuffed him more than once for touching the girls, but she always hugged him afterward and told him that she knew he could try harder.
Jamie bent to pick up a twig. It snapped in his hands. He didn’t want to try harder. He liked playing with them; he liked touching them, and most of all he liked the way he felt inside when he was doing it. Sometimes at night he even dreamed about them . . . But he didn’t want to think about that now.
It was all Nessie’s fault. She needed a good slap to teach her manners. He hated it when Elena was angry with him or disappointed in him. He tried to be good, he really did . . . but he liked those little girls. What he had to do was find that mouthy little brat and teach her a lesson she wouldn’t forget!
Nervously, Jamie rubbed his fingers together as he tromped across the lawn and into the grove of trees in search of the children. He called them, not bothering to hide the anger in his tone. Suddenly, he spied Nessie and Rosy heading toward the well. This was his chance. Elena was back in the kitchen and Royall must be with her.
“Tattletales,” he muttered over and over as he chased after the little figures. His heavy footfalls alerted the two innocents, who stopped in their tracks, their faces frightened. Jamie stared at them a moment, panting from the run, suddenly uncertain that he was placing the blame on the one who told. Maybe it had been Rosy who told on him.
“Which one of you little brats complained about me to Elena?” he demanded, his voice high and shrill. Neither girl answered, their black eyes wary and frightened as they instinctively huddled together. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll give you both a thrashing you won’t forget.” Still the children remained silent, clinging together like two little marmoset monkeys. Jamie’s anger was spurred by their refusal to answer.
Furious, he reached out a long arm and grabbed Rosy, who was closest to him. “I’ll teach you to tattle on me, you damn little Indian!” With one hand holding her firmly, he rendered her a stunning blow with the other. Rosy screamed, as did Nessie, who tried to grapple his long legs. He shook Nessie off with a wicked kick, sending the child sprawling into the greenery along the path.
Rosy was crying, squealing with fright, struggling wildly to free herself from his overpowering grip. The more she struggled, the more incensed Jamie became. Her frantic movements were driving him crazy with a strange, erotic need. Blinded by his emotions, he held firm to the child, whose writhing now seemed sensuously rhythmic.
Fire grew in his loins, and when he looked into the small, tear-stained face he felt his own tears spring to his eyes. What was happening to him? A small, dark hand reached up to claw his face; cursing, he felt the flesh split across his cheekbone. The fire was now approaching an inferno as he threw the child on the ground and stood looking over her. The inferno threatened to engulf him, and from somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind he remembered standing beside the Baron outside the stable’s studding corral. He could almost see himself as he’d been then—a thin, shy boy of twelve. He could hear the shrieks of the mare and the whinnying snorts of the stallion as the two beasts mated. The Baron had laughed softly, remarking to one of the stable hands, “She screams like a woman, that filly. The stallion will soon teach her to act her age.”
But the filly never stopped shrieking; Jamie could still hear her. Or was it Rosy?
Royall paced the kitchen, her hands shaking, voice quaking. Elena busied herself baking bread, kneading the soft, white dough with strong, capable hands. Her usual black dress was smudged with flour, and her always meticulously groomed hair fell from the knot at the back of her head and hung in ebony strands around her face. While she wouldn’t admit it, Royall could see how agitated she was with worry about the girls and Jamie.
“Elena, where can they be?”
“Don’t become overexcited, Senora. There are a thousand explanations. This wouldn’t be the first time that Rosy and Nessie have run off to play when they should be attending to their chores.” Her fingers dug into the bread dough, punching, turning. “It’s the heat. You shouldn’t be in the kitchen; it’s too hot.” She was purposely keeping her tone on a level, her glance quickly indicating the plump cook working near the stove. “Senora, step out onto the veranda, perhaps you’ll see the children coming.”
Royall went to the veranda, Elena following with a cool drink. “I don’t want the cook to know,” she explained briefly, wiping her hands on her dress, leaving a dusting of flour. “Senora, I think we should search again. You take the path through the gardens and I’ll follow the trail to the stables. At least we will be doing something.”
Royall sighed with relief. “Of course, I agree. I was about to suggest something myself. I feel as though my head is going to explode. Are you sure, Elena, that Moriah didn’t know anything?”
“Quite sure, Senora Banner. She was working, exactly what she was supposed to be doing. Please, you must take my word, the child knew nothing. The only thing I succeeded in doing was alarming the little one. I had no choice,” she said defensively.
“I know that, Elena. It’s just that I’m so worried. I feel as though I want to go in a dozen different directions. We separate here. Call out if you find them.” Elena nodded.
Her eyes clouded with worry and apprehension, Royall trudged this way and that, her eyes searching the thick, jungle greenery. It was quiet, too quiet. She didn’t like the stillness. A shrill, squawking bird flew overhead, making Royall gasp in fright. Time and again she called to the children. Her cries went unanswered. Faintly, she could hear Elena calling the children from the opposite direction. Apparently, she wasn’t having any luck either. Royall followed the path to the spring. There was no one about. She circled back, calling the girls over and over.
A speck of color near a large, leafy bush caught her eye. It looked like Rosy’s favorite hair ribbon. She called out again. This time she stood perfectly still and waited, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. Was that a sound? Tilting her head to the side, she concentrated with every fiber of her being. There it was again, the soft mewing of a cat. Dejectedly, she parted the foliage and peered into the dimness, expecting to see the large tabby with a litter of newborn kittens. Two pairs of eyes stared into her startled gaze. “Rosy, Nessie! Thank God! I was so worried about you. Didn’t you hear me call you? Shame on you for playing a trick on me. Now tell me, why didn’t you call out when you heard me searching for you?”
Silence.
“Come along now, it’s almost dinnertime and Elena needs you to help in the kitchen. She’s been searching for you, too.”
Neither child moved. Royall bent down to stare at the little girls. Nessie looked frightened to death. Rosy, always bright, cheerful, and inquisitive, stared straight ahead, her eyes dull and unseeing. Nessie had a protective grip around Rosy’s shoulders. Royall’s chest roared in panic. “Wh ... what . . . what’s wrong?” she managed finally past the lump in her throat.
Silence.
She knew.
Gently, Royall pried Nessie’s stiff fingers from Rosy’s shoulders. “It’s all right, Nessie, I’ll take care of her. You must move a little. I know you’ve been protecting her, but I’ll take care of her. Trust me,” she whispered. “Please, little one, trust me.” Obediently, Nessie slid back to afford Royall leverage to pick up the blank-faced child. Her movements awkward, Royall gathered Rosy in her arms and backed from the shrubbery onto the wide path. Gently, she laid her burden down onto the well-worn trail. Brilliant sunshine made her blink after the dimness of the dense undergrowth.
Rosy appeared dazed, completely unaware of her surroundings. Royall waved a slender hand in front of Rosy’s eyes. There was no response.
Her suspicions demanded an immediate response. Questioningly, she looked at Nessie. “Did Rosy fall, is that how she got hurt?” In her heart she knew that no fall would have caused the dead look on the little girl’s face. “Nessie, go at once and fetch Elena. She’s searching for you near the stables.” The child remained still. “Nessie, you have to fetch Elena. Do it for Rosy. Now!” she commanded sternly.
“No, Senora. You take care of Rosy?” Nessie said stubbornly.
“All right. I asked you to trust me, so I want you to know that I’m doing the best I can. I have to be truthful with you. I don’t know what to do for Rosy. I do have an idea, though. Go to the stable and fetch me my horse. You can do that for me, can’t you? I’ll take Rosy to her mother on Senor Rivera’s plantation. You too, child. This place is no longer safe for either of you. Can you do it, Nessie, can you fetch the horse?”
The little shoulders set. “I can do. You wait.” She scampered off and was back in an instant. “You no say about Moriah?” Again the voice was stubborn, defying Royall to give a negative answer.
“I promise to bring Moriah tomorrow to Senor Rivera’s plantation. Right now, it is imperative, very important, that you two get there as quickly as possible. I promise that I’ll fetch Moriah tomorrow. Please, Nessie, you must trust me.” Royall wanted to scream as the child stared at her, debating what she should do.
“Not lie?”
“Not a lie! Hurry, Nessie, oh, please hurry. Don’t let anyone see you. Run!”
For what seemed like hours Royall sat in the clearing stroking Rosy’s head and crooning soft words of comfort. When she thought she couldn’t stand it a second longer, Nessie walked down the path, leading not one but two horses.
“Two,” Nessie said holding up two pudgy fingers. “We three. Need two horses. I steal.”
“Can you ride, Nessie?”
Nessie grimaced. “Not so good. I bring old horse for me. He walk slow. I hold on tight.”
Royall’s mind raced as her mare trotted behind Nessie and the old horse. Should she go to Sebastian, or should she take Rosy directly to her mother? She firmly decided that a mother was what Rosy needed more than anything in the world, no matter how kind and compassionate Sebastian might be.
Within an hour she was in sight of the clearing that housed Sebastian’s Indians. As before, the women came from all directions. They said nothing as their dark eyes watched the two riders approach. Gradually, the crowd thinned before the determined strides of a tall Indian woman who approached from the rear. She stared at Nessie and then at Rosy. Her long arms reached out to gather Rosy from Royall’s tight embrace. Gently, she held the child against her breast and cradled the small dark head in her hands. Tears fell from her eyes as she rocked Rosy back and forth like a newborn babe. The jet black eyes, tear filled, looked into the face of her child. She saw. She did not believe.
A giant of a man stepped forward to take the child from her mother’s arms. It must be Rosy’s father, Royall thought. Suddenly, there was a babble of voices. Dark-skinned fingers pointed to Rosy’s bare little leg. Royall watched in horror as the child’s mother traced the dark rivulet of blood that was almost indistinguishable against the dark skin of the child. Slowly she lifted the child’s skirt and then turned to look at the man holding Rosy. She nodded slightly. A deathly stillness settled over the clearing. Royall fought the urge to scream. The crowd dispersed. Rosy was safe. There was nothing she could do for the little girl now.
Royall’s eyes went to Nessie, who sat patiently atop the old horse. “Now it’s your turn, little one. Follow me, I’m going to take you to your new home and your mother.”
“My mother?” Nessie said in awe.
“Yes, your mother. I should have done it long ago. Your mother. Some day God will forgive me for not taking matters into my own hands.”
Nessie frowned. “You tell Father Juan. He forgive you. Con . . . conf ... confession,” she said triumphantly.
“That’s the simple way, Nessie. First, I have to forgive myself. Come along now, and let’s not keep your mother waiting another moment for the sight of your beautiful face.”
The courtyard was empty. Royall frowned, not sure if she was happy or disappointed that Sebastian was nowhere about. Right now she really had no desire to see Sebastian’s hard, cold, jet black eyes that looked into her soul. Better he should be absent. At the sound of the horses’ hooves, Anna ran from the house. One startled glance at Nessie made her pick up her skirts and race to the old worn-out horse, her arms outstretched. Her eyes sought Royall, hardly daring to believe her good fortune. Royall nodded. “I brought her to you. She’s to remain with you. She’s your daughter and she belongs to you. I am truly sorry I . . . Love her, Anna, she deserves it.”
“There will be much trouble when the Baron finds out you have brought my child to me, Senora.”
“Yes, there will be much trouble, but I’m the one who will make it. You need have no fear, no one, I repeat, no one will ever take that child from you again. You have my word.”
Royall leaned over and kissed the small, dark face. “Mind you, take as good care of your mama as you did of me,” she warned the little girL Nessie nodded soberly. With a wave of her hand, Royall rode from the clearing.
Tears scalded her eyes, making it impossible to see the horse that rode into the courtyard from the opposite side of the Casa. Nor did she see the dark eyes gaze longingly at her retreating back. She was too far away to hear the words the housekeeper spoke to Sebastian of the golden girl with tear-filled eyes and of the kiss she had given, oh so tenderly, to her little Nessie. “It would be a lucky man who could share a kiss with such a golden girl,” Anna said happily as she cuddled Nessie in her arms.
Back at the Reino, Royall faced Elena. “You know, don’t you? You know that Jamie raped Rosy!” At Elena’s nod, Royall felt anger chum within her. “What are you going to do about it?” she demanded coldly.
“I don’t know, Senora. I have to think. The Baron isn’t here. I can hardly take matters into my own hands. Jamie isn’t a child; he’s a young man.”
“A young man who just raped a small child! Don’t stand there and tell me you have to wait for the Baron to come home. From what I understand, he may never come back to the plantation. I want Jamie locked in his room, and I want Moriah moved into my room immediately. She’ll stay with me until tomorrow when I take her back to the Rivera plantation. Don’t even contemplate telling me I can’t do it. I did it and I’ll do it again. If you won’t do anything, I’ll do it myself. Well?”
“Jamie is in his room. I’m not as uncaring or as unfeeling as you may think, Senora. Jamie is ... has been like a son to me. I’ll do what has to be done. I suggest you go to your room and let me get on with dinner. One of the servants will bring trays to your room for you and Moriah. I want your word that you will stay in your room till I tell you to come out. Your word, Senora.”
“Very well, Elena, I’ll do as you say, but I want you to send a messenger to Manaus to the Baron. I want him to know about this. If he chooses not to return, then I will take matters into my own hands. I want your word on that matter, Elena.”
“Yes, Senora. I’ll have a messenger sent out at once.”
As always, Royall felt herself dismissed from the housekeeper’s presence. This time she was only too glad to go to her room. Thank God, Moriah was safe. The child would be delighted when she hears that she will be going home.
How tired she was, how depressed. If only she could have gotten just one glimpse of Sebastian.
All evening long Royall cringed in the high, wide bed. The angry sound of drums beating through the jungle was setting her into a frenzy. Moriah’s words did nothing to alleviate her apprehension: “The drums say there will be a death in the jungle tonight.”
Elena sat down on a hard-backed chair. Her head throbbed unmercifully. How had it come to this? When had things gone wrong? The day Royall Banner arrived at the plantation, she answered herself. I knew it the moment she stepped over the threshhold that things were going to change, and not for the better. Such turmoil. Do this, do that, don’t do this, don’t do that, where was it going to end. Was the Baron going to come back to the plantation? She had to send a messenger as the Senora requested. She couldn’t ignore the problem any longer; she would have to do as the young American woman instructed.
On lagging feet, Elena walked to the courtyard in search of one of the stable boys. Quickly and concisely, she explained exactly what he was to say to the Baron. “You are to return with the Baron and see that he ... that he arrives safely.” No need to tell the boy that the Baron might be drunk and he was needed as a chaperone on the long ride to the plantation. “You must be careful when you speak of Jamie. Just say that his presence is needed because of Jamie. Say no more. That is what you were told, and you are merely delivering . the message,” Elena admonished. The boy nodded and scampered off to the stables to saddle a horse.
If only she could think straight, get her thoughts together. There was something else she had to do. What was it? Dinner! Of course, even a dolt would have remembered. As if by rote, she set about preparing thick, pink slices of ham. Snowy white rice bubbled merrily as she shelled peas. The inevitable sliced fruit with sugar and cream would be dessert. There was no time for pastry, and her heart wouldn’t be in preparing the flaky dough, not today.
The cook appeared at Elena’s side. “Soon,” Elena murmured, “and then you will take two trays to the Senora’s room. I’ll see to Master Jamie myself. Pour the cream and slice the fruit.” The woman stared at Elena. Something was wrong. The housekeeper was acting strangely, as though she didn’t care about the dinner at all. Where was the butter for the peas? Why was there no lid on the rice pot? And there were no flowers for the trays, something the housekeeper always saw to herself. Where were the pretty napkins, and where were the dishes? Something was wrong. She sniffed a moment and then hurried over to the stove. She heaved a mighty sigh as she removed the heavy skillet from the stove. Just in time or the luscious pink ham would have burned. Elena didn’t even notice. She didn’t notice when the cook reappeared a moment later with a handful of delicate scarlet blooms to be put in the small vases on the shelf. Perhaps the housekeeper would scold her later, but she doubted it. In plain view of Elena’s unseeing gaze she arranged the trays and added the flowers and the colorful napkins. It looked just as elegant as if Elena herself had done it. Pleased with herself and what she had just accomplished, she set about ladling out the food on the plates. Gently, she touched Elena’s shoulder and waited for her nod of approval. Twice she had to repeat her gentle nudge before the housekeeper could bring her eyes to focus on the tempting looking trays. She smiled wanly and said, “You did fine, Maria. Now take the trays to the Senora’s room. I’ll take Master Jamie’s to him in a moment.”
There was no choice left to her. Senora Banner was right; something had to be done, and it had to be done now before the Baron returned. She looked a moment longer at the tray. Satisfied that everything was placed exactly right, she picked up the tray and left the kitchen. Her walk was stately, her eyes straight ahead, until she reached Jamie’s room. Deftly, she balanced the tray in one hand and withdrew a large key from her apron pocket.
“It’s about time, Elena. I thought you were never going to bring my food to me. I don’t like it when you lock me in my room. I’m going to tell father. I want you to bring my soldiers to me,” Jamie said petulantly.
Elena sat the tray down on a small table. “I want you to eat your dinner, Jamie. Later, I’ll get your soldiers. I don’t think they can be fixed, but I can try. Why did you break the heads off the soldiers?”
“Oh, Elena, sometimes I don’t know why you say the things you do; I didn’t break the heads off my soldiers. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt my soldiers. You should know that,” Jamie scoffed as he wolfed down his food.
“I never thought you would hurt anyone, Jamie.”
“Elena, why are you talking so strangely? Who did I hurt? This rice tastes funny. Change it, Elena, I don’t want it.”
“Eat it,” Elena said firmly.
“All right, but I don’t like it.”
“Why did you hurt Rosy?”
Jamie stopped his voracious chewing and lowered his eyes to his plate. “I didn’t hurt her. She’s nothing but an Indian brat. She told on me, didn’t she? That’s why you gave me this rice. You’re punishing me,” he accused.
“You need to be punished for what you did. What you did was a bad thing, Jamie. Rosy’s father and some of the other Indian men from the Rivera plantation will come here and want to punish you.”
“Is that why you’re punishing me with the rice, so they won’t come here? That’s very clever of you, Elena. Father won’t let some old Indian men hurt me.”
“Your father isn’t here, Jamie, you know that. I’ve sent for him, but he won’t arrive till very late.” If he arrives at all, Elena added to herself.
“You can make it right, can’t you, Elena? You won’t let the Indians hurt me, will you?” Jamie picked at his peas and then rolled them off the plate. He watched as they rolled to the floor. “Say you won’t let them hurt me, Elena,” he whined.
“I’m going to make it right, Jamie. No one is ever going to hurt you. I’ve always taken care of you. You know I love you, like you were my own son. You trust me, don’t you, Jamie?” Her voice was low, tormented, as she waited for Jamie to respond.
Jamie laughed in delight. “I’m not afraid of some old Indian men. I know you love me. I love you too. Do you love me enough to bring my soldiers to me?”
“Perhaps later, Jamie. I want you to finish your dinner now. I’ll just sit here and wait till you’re done.” Obediently, Jamie cleaned his plate and attacked the sliced fruit with his spoon.
“Now, take your tray over to the door and set it outside.”
“Now, will you get the soldiers? I ate all of the rice so you don’t have to punish me anymore.”
“Come with me. I want you to look out at the gardens to see how beautiful they are. I want you to remember them.”
“Why? Are we going on a trip? Father didn’t say anything about a trip. Can I take my soldiers with me?”
Elena swallowed hard and maneuvered Jamie to the wide double doors that looked over the garden. “A trip? In a manner of speaking, Jamie. And of course your soldiers can go with you. They’re part of you. Tell me now, what do you think of the garden?”
Jamie shrugged. “Where are we going?”
Elena turned to face Jamie. “To a kind of wondrous place, Jamie. I’ve never been there, but there’s no pain where you’re going. Everything will be peaceful. You’ll never be punished again.”
“It sounds like a fairyland. When are we going?”
Elena stood face to face with Jamie. Lightly she cupped both her hands around his handsome head. Lightly she kissed him first on one cheek and then on the other. Her throat was like a thin rag as the words ripped from her. “I loved you as though you were my own, better than my own. I love you now. I’ll always love you, remember that, Jamie.” Her hands dropped to her side. Slowly, she reached into the pocket of her apron and withdrew her sharp paring knife. Her eyes locked with Jamie’s as she plunged the blade into his heart. “Now, Jamie, you’re leaving now.”
Jamie’s eyes widened in disbelief as he slumped to the floor. Elena stared down at him, tears coursing down her cheeks. “Forgive me, Jamie. I couldn’t let Rosy’s father take you away. He and the others would come as soon as night falls. I couldn’t let them take you, I just couldn’t let that happen to you.”
How beautiful he looked in death. How innocent.
She had things to do. Pick up the trays, wash the dishes, clean the kitchen. Send a boy to the Rivera plantation with a message telling of Jamie’s death. Only when she was finished would she allow herself the luxury of readying Jamie’s body for burial. When that was finished she would wait for the Baron.
Soon the beat of the jungle drums would abate. The silence would then be thunderous. One way or another, the jungle always won. It was a fact of life that she had lived with. Only this time she couldn’t let the jungle win, not with Jamie. She had been his accuser, she had judged, and it was she who found him guilty and meted out his punishment. This time she had beat the jungle by a hairbreadth.