Authors: Jane Toombs
Bride of the Baja (40 page)
"I will tell you a secret," the coronel said as they walked beside the presidio wall to the bluff overlooking the Sea of Cortes. The sun, setting behind the barren hills, threw their shadows on the ground in front of them. "All the news from Mexico is of victories for the revolutionaries. Soon the viceroy must flee to Spain; soon General Iturbide will take his place. There is even talk of crowning Iturbide emperor of all Mexico."
"Will you have to leave the country, too?"
Coronel
Morales shrugged. "Most of the Spanish officers in Mexico will merely change their uniforms for those of the new government. Soldiers are paid to fight, not to be politicians, and no matter whose government controls Mexico, life will go on. There will be more wars, more killing, more proclamations, more revolutions, new champions of the people, new despots."
"You're very cynical,
Coronel
," Alitha said. "Not unlike someone I once knew."
"You left him because of his cynicism?"
"No, he was killed."
"Ah,
el Capitan
Quinn. Such a pity. He was, from all Don Esteban told me, a brave and gallant man."
Close to tears, Alitha nodded and said nothing.
"But the success of the revolution,"
Coronel
Morales said, "is not my secret. When the chance presents itself, I plan to sail home to Spain. Not because of the revolution--I have decided to leave Baja regardless. After more than twenty years I intend to give up my commission in the army."
"Won't you miss being a soldier? The life? The adventure?"
"Ah, of a certainty I shall. Any great change is a kind of dying. But the time for change has come. I became a soldier because my father was one before me and his father before him. In my family the first son enters the priesthood, the second son joins the military. There was no choice, or at least I thought there was none. Now, before it's too late I will return to my first love, the earth and the plants it nourishes. Like Candide, I must cultivate my garden before it is too late."
"If only all of us could know what we should do with our lives before it's too late," Alitha said. For
Coronel
Morales, she thought, the coming years would be a new beginning. For her, without Jordan, they seemed more like an ending.
The
coronel
nodded. Looking up into the darkening sky, he said, "Such strange weather for this time of year. See how the fog comes in from the sea."
Alitha pulled her shawl closer around her.
"I must prepare to inspect our troops at the lowering of the flag,"
Coronel
Morales said. "I wonder how many more days the flag of Spain will fly over Baja." Bowing to Alitha, he strode away to the barracks.
She walked slowly out onto the bluff, where she stood looking at the mist swirling above the sea. Closing her eyes, she remembered the morning in Valparaiso when she had stood at the rail of the Flying Yankee and seen the
Kerry Dancer
for the first time, remembered how Jordan Quinn had saluted her as his ship disappeared into the fog.
Opening her eyes, she stared across the smooth waters. All at once she gasped in disbelief. Her heart leaped. No, it wasn't a vision, not a mirage. A ship sailed through the mist. She strained to see the masts. Two. The lines of the vessel were familiar, so like those graven into her memory.
Alitha watched, her heart thudding in her breast, as the ship sailed into the harbor. By the time it had anchored offshore and a boat was launched, there was no doubt in her mind that it was the
Kerry Dancer
.
The Mexicans were returning the ship, she told herself, realizing the foolishness of her first wild hope that Jordan Quinn was in command. They were bringing the ship back, but days too late, for Esteban and Thomas had already sailed from Loreto. Alitha turned away. It was too painful to look at the
Kerry Dancer
now that Jordan Quinn was gone.
No, she told herself, she would not spend the rest of her life turning her back. She must face life just as
Coronel
Morales had finally decided to do after all these years. Biting her lip, she turned and watched as the ship's boat nestled beside the quay and a man climbed the ladder to the dock.
No, it couldn't be! Holding her skirt in one hand, she ran down the path to the shore and along the dirt road to the beach. He waited for her, his black hair curling over his forehead, his eyes dancing.
Jordan opened his arms to her and she threw herself into them, laughing and sobbing.
"Jordan," she said, burying her face against his chest. "I thought you were dead."
"Only the luck of the Irish saved me. And kept you here in Baja until I was well enough to travel."
"I must have been waiting for you without knowing it. I think I must have been waiting for you all my life."
"As I was about to tell you when I was interrupted—" Jordan began. When she looked up at him, puzzled, he went on, "At the inn, when Bouchard's men came. As I was saying then, the reason I never told you that Thomas was in Mexico was because I love you, Alitha. I was jealous, I was a fool, but when a man's in love—"
She raised her lips to his. When he kissed her, she felt the familiar excitement and more, the aliveness she knew only with him, the desire to share, the need to be with Jordan Quinn as long as they both should live.
A cannon boomed a salute from the fort, and one answered from the deck of the
Kerry
Dancer
. Keeping his arm around her, Jordan turned to look at his ship and the ocean beyond.
"Australia's out there," he said, "and Tasmania and all the isles of the South Pacific. Someday we'll cross this ocean, you and I, to India and the Cape of Good Hope and the Congo. There are so many wonders you've never seen that I want to show you, so many lands I've never sailed to that we can discover together."
She rested her head against his shoulder, smiling. No, she told herself, this wasn't an ending after all. This was only the beginning.
The End
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About The Author
Jane Toombs, the Viking from her past and their calico grandcat, Kinko, live on the south shore of Lake Superior in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula wilderness. Here they enjoy refreshing Springs, beautiful Summers, colorful Falls and tolerate miserable Winters. Jane is edging toward ninety with her published books and has over twenty-five novellas and short stories to her credit. She’s been published in every genre except men’s action and erotica, but paranormal is her favorite. She’s a member of a closed twelve author promo group called Jewels of the Quill, where she’s “Dame Turquoise”
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