His Reluctant Bodyguard (16 page)

Jasper Parlier said something in patois to the animal,
then
smacked him on the rump. As Midnight lurched forward, the old man waved his arm. "The road
be
just over the rise.
God speed, Rip
Pollendene
."

Rip didn’t reply as he struggled not to bounce off the mule’s back, while Avery tightened her grip around his waist, trying not to fall either. Hardly the mode of transportation she’d imagined when Rip mentioned a revolution. However, in the few minutes it took to reach the main road, she adjusted to Midnight's gait, and had to admit that they were making much better time than when they were walking. She just couldn't think about how ridiculous they must look.

As Rip had predicted, the road to the power plant was paved and wide enough for two vehicles to pass. But the people Jasper had talked about weren't apparent at first. Instead, they encountered heavy limbs and entire trees strewn across the road. Midnight easily sidestepped the obstacles, but other vehicles hadn't fared so well. They passed both motorized carts and several of the horse-drawn variety abandoned and stuck in the mud off the side of the road.

After the mule carefully picked his way over a particularly large tree completely blocking the pavement, they ran into their first people. Two elderly men and three young teen boys stopped and eyed them warily.

"Where you get that mule?" an old man leaning on a cane demanded.

"Jasper Parlier loaned him to me," Rip replied, not slowing Midnight's pace.

"Bon," the man acknowledged with a wave of his hand.

"Apparently Jasper and his mule are well-known in these parts," Rip commented when they were out of ear shot.

"Glad they believed you." Avery didn't want to consider what might happen if the next people didn't. Or worse, if they recognized Rip and unlike Jasper, didn't like the
Pollendenes
.

But their luck held, because the next people they encountered were three women, one with a baby balanced on her hip. The three of them stood on the edge of the pavement and silently watched as Midnight trotted by.

For more than an hour, Rip and Avery continued to wind their way around debris and past people. Nobody spoke, much less challenged them, though one man leading a donkey actually called to Midnight.

"Very well-known," Rip muttered under his breath as the mule twitched his long ears.

Avery gave up trying to shift her position, and her rear had long since gone numb. The road grew steeper, with a canyon on one side that she avoided looking down, though she could hear rushing water far below. She knew they couldn't dismount because they might not be able to remount. Midnight must have been getting tired too, for his head seemed to droop lower and his plodding slowed.

Was he hungry?
Thirsty?
In spite of her misgivings, Avery was about to ask Rip if they should dismount, when the mule halted suddenly and lifted his ears.

"Is that a horse?" Rip asked, cocking his head.

She heard the distinctive sound of hooves clopping on the pavement, and they were getting louder, which meant the horse was getting closer. Dozens of panicked thoughts tumbled into her brain --

Was there more than one rider?

Were they armed?

Friend or foe?

But before she could blurt out any of them, Midnight brayed, effectively announcing their whereabouts to whomever was approaching.

Chapter 9

Rip jerked the stubborn old mule over to the edge of the roadway, hoping whoever was almost upon them would show no more interest than anyone else had. But the fact that the strangers were coming from the power plant made him nervous, and Avery’s tightened grip told him she shared his anxiety. However, he had no more time to think, for a single mounted rider loped into view.

As Midnight brayed again, the rider slowed,
then
raised his hand in greeting. "Rip? Avery?"

"Luc!"
Rip cried in relief, and in his ear, Avery echoed him.

DuBois
pulled his mount,
who
looked like a heavy draft horse, to a halt. As his gaze moved over them, a grin tugged at Luc’s mouth. "Is that Jasper Parlier’s mule, Midnight?"

Rolling his eyes in disbelief, Rip nodded. "Does everyone in
Benezet
know this beast and his owner?"

"Everyone in St.
Namadie
probably does," Luc answered, chuckling. Then his expression grew stern. "I notice you didn’t wait for me or Mama Simone to come for you."

"We got tired of waiting." Rip didn’t mean to sound quite so defiant.

"Besides, the storm was over," Avery added.

Luc nodded knowingly, "Thanks to Mama Simone and the other Sage Femmes." Before Rip could express his skepticism, his friend continued, "The hurricane was headed straight for
Benezet
, but turned at the last minute and only side swiped us. How do you explain it?"

Properly rebuked, Rip shrugged. "I don’t."

"Were you at the power plant?" Avery interrupted. "Is there fighting? Was anyone hurt?"

Holding up one hand to stop her questions, Luc acknowledged, "It wasn’t much of a fight. Our people were already in place when Jean
Baptiste’s
troops advanced. Only a few shots were exchanged before they realized they were badly outnumbered."

Rip pictured his cousin’s men struggling uphill, but still found
himself
incredulous. "They ran without a fight?"

"Pretty
much,
and more than a few deserted. Your cousin JB is not well-liked and certainly not respected as your father was." He sounded sincere, but suspicion tightened Rip’s throat. Luc had put on an act for so long, how could he be trusted?
 

"We’re marching on the fort in
Saturnina
to demand an immediate free election. We want you to join us, Rip."

Exactly what Williams and his CIA buddies wanted, Rip realized. Then he remembered the agent’s dangerous predicament. "What about Williams?"

"Thierry got him moved. He’s safe for now."

Behind him, Avery audibly sighed in relief, and Rip admitted to himself that his mind felt easier knowing the agent was still alive. But was he really going to go along with Luc and his rebels? Midnight shifted and the movement caused a twinge of pain in Rip’s injured leg. The injury inflicted by his cousin’s minions – anger over-rode the pain. "We’re wasting time. Let’s talk while we ride."

Luc’s grin spread across his face.

"How much farther to the plant?"
Avery interrupted.

"Less than an hour," Luc assured. "Do either of you want to ride with me?"

Avery studied the big horse through narrowed eyes for a moment then shook her head. "I’ll stick with Midnight."

"Me too," Rip agreed.

As Luc wheeled his mount around, the mule snorted and trotted off as if he were determined to lead the way. Debris continued to clutter the road, and they met and passed more people. Several called out to them, but most watched in silence as the two mounts went by.

After forty-five minutes, they crested the top of the hill and the power plant came into view, a sprawling mass of concrete and metal not far below them. Rip could see lots of figures milling about the building and grounds, but the roar of water drowned out all other sounds.

From the corner of his vision, he saw three mounted riders approaching. But when he turned to motion to Luc, his friend was waving at the men and pulling his horse to a halt. Rip followed suit, though Midnight seemed reluctant to obey.

"Are those rifles?" Avery spoke into his ear, her voice tinged with fear.

"
DuBois
!" The rider in the middle called out, and broke into a spate of patois.

"
Roussellot
," Luc replied. "English please, our friends aren’t natives." He motioned with one hand. "This is Rip
Pollendene
and Miss Avery Knox."

The mounted man ran his eyes over the two of them and Midnight before he gave a short nod of acknowledgement. "The main contingent left a half-hour ago. We can still catch up if we leave right away."

Luc inclined his head at another of the riders,
then
addressed Rip. "You and Avery go with Moreau while
Roussellot
fills me in on a few details."

This whole thing was looking more like a civil war by the moment. But he wasn’t about to debate semantics with three armed men, so Rip urged the mule to follow the young guy Luc had called Moreau.

"What details?" Avery hissed in his ear. "And if we’re marching on that fort where you were imprisoned, they have cannons and all kinds of weapons."

"Just wait until we figure out what’s going on," Rip advised, but his mind was racing with possibilities, most of them violent.

Their guide dismounted behind a barracks-like building, secured his rifle to the saddle and tied his horse to a drain pipe. Rip pulled Midnight to a halt, and the other man helped Avery to the ground. His hand lingered just a little too long on her waist to Rip’s way of thinking.

The inside of the building looked like a barracks too. Their guide motioned for them to sit on the bunks while he disappeared into another room.

"Avery, I think you better stay –"

"No way!"
Avery interrupted, determination blazing in her wide blue eyes. "I’m not letting you walk into a war without me. I won’t allow you to get yourself killed. I am your bodyguard, after all." She clamped her lips together as their guide Moreau re-entered and tossed some camouflage pants and a jacket at Rip. "Where’s mine?" She demanded, hands on hips.

After looking from her to Rip, Moreau gave a vague shrug and disappeared again. He returned moments later with more
camo
wear, and handed the items to Avery with a lift of his eyebrows. "Would mademoiselle like coffee?"

Avery fluttered her hand like a perfect Southern belle. "Why, yes. Coffee would be lovely."

Smothering his snort of laughter, Rip concentrated on shedding his bedraggled shorts and pulling on the canvas pants, which were a couple of inches above his ankles. Looking at his dirty bare feet, he decided to ask Moreau for footwear as soon as the guy fetched Avery’s coffee. The coat fit snugly across Rip’s shoulders, and the cuffs stopped short of his wrists, the very reasons he had to have most of his jackets altered. He turned around to see Avery placing her shorts and long skirt on the bunk.

But before he could say anything, Moreau opened the door and offered Avery a heavy ceramic mug. "Sorry, mademoiselle, you must drink it black."

No cup for him, Rip noted with a hint of suspicion hovering on the edge of his mind. At least if Avery came with him, he could keep his eye on her, he rationalized.

Taking her time, Avery pulled her
camo
jacket on over her frilly blouse and folded back the cuffs. "That’s fine, merci." She tugged at her baggy trousers with her free hand. "Do you have some kind of belt?"

Moreau inclined his head as if he were the perfect servant, and swiveled on his heel.

"And shoes for me!"
Rip called after him.

Avery took a sip, made a face and set the mug on the floor. "What can I do about my hair?"

The door to the outside opened and Luc strode in. "Time to leave
— "
Seeing Avery’s attire, he stopped abruptly and gave Rip a stern, questioning look.

"She’s my bodyguard," Rip said raising his palms in defeat.

He was spared any arguments by Moreau coming in yet again. The man stared for a moment at Avery’s hair before he handed her a length of twine. Almost as if it were an afterthought, he tossed a pair of worn
hurraches
at Rip.

"Okay, let’s go." Rip shoved his feet into the shoes. Miraculously, they fit.

Hastily folding the twine in half, Avery slipped it through the belt loops on the baggy pants and knotted it around her waist as she followed the three men out the door. The other two men waited with the horses. They both stared momentarily at her hair, and she paused long enough to retie the scarf around her head.

Luc snatched a floppy hat from the young man he’d called
Roussellot
and handed it to her. "Keep this pulled over your eyes."

She was only too happy to oblige. While she trusted Luc, she wasn’t so sure about the others. Moreau’s solicitous behavior and the long looks from all three of them set her teeth on edge. The less she looked liked a blonde woman, the better. Apparently they were a rarity on
Benezet
.

Somewhere, Luc and his cohorts had procured another horse, though it actually wasn’t much bigger than a pony. To her surprise, Moreau offered his larger horse to
Rip
, and held the reins of the smaller mount for her.

"No thanks," Avery waved her hand. "I’ll stick with Midnight."

At the sound of his name, the mule brayed and twitched his ears. Rip stepped up and held his laced hands to boost her onto the animal’s back.

"You better behave," she muttered into the mule’s long ear. "Or so help me Midnight, you’ll regret it."

Her legs were so stiff and sore from their recent ride that she barely managed to heave herself onto the mule’s broad back.
 
Rip and
Roussellot
mounted up while Luc gave last minute instructions to Moreau and the remaining man, who were staying at the plant with a small band of defenders. Then the four of them – Luc,
Roussellot
, Rip and her -- took off at a bone-jarring gallop.