Liberty Hill (Western Tide Series) (28 page)

To top it all off, Brock was reaping all the sordid profits his malevolent connivance had sown, being subjected to Evelyn’s sharp punishment of disdain. It was a beautiful thing, Lucius thought gladly, and it was nothing the rascal had not merited of his own volition.

Despite their wishes, the sun answered only to itself, and it saw fit to descend below the horizon before they arrived at the Washington Hotel. When they finally arrived they could see very little, as all around the establishment was awash in the shadow of night, but the sound of rowdy men could be heard laughing and shouting merrily from within.  The hotel was a simple, elongated hut built of logs, situated in a clearing at the top of a hill.

The party eagerly dismounted their animals and followed their senses indoors, where the smell of food and the warm glow of lanterns allured them.

Winston, who was also hungry, decidedly remained out of doors and began a search for whatever might assuage his grumbling belly. Regretfully, Adele watched him disappear into the trees, and at her dejected expression, Evelyn came alongside and slipped an arm through Adele’s.

“Come inside, Mrs. Whitfield. I am sure our friend will return in the morning.”

“Do you think he has gone home?”

“I believe the whole of this jungle is his home, and he is only too obliging to see us through it.”

The company entered the inn and was greeted by the sight of numerous faces, many of which had become familiar in the course of their travels. Brock sought a place near a couple of antisocial ruffians, among whom he felt entirely at ease, while the rest sat wherever a seat presented itself. Lucius located the men who had placed bets on the donkey carcass and quickly informed them that he had won, for the bones had been picked clean by scavengers. Grumbling, the others paid their dues, and Lucius was much obliged to receive them.

The smell of supper was pungent and mouth-watering. The food had not yet been served and the guests found themselves looking longingly towards the kitchen in anticipation. To keep from growing too impatient, they busied themselves with cards and songs, accompanied by ale and brandy that flowed without end.

One man leaned towards Lucius and asked what he would have to drink, to which Lucius remorsefully replied, “ah, I’m afraid I cannot indulge tonight, my friend.”

Evelyn, who sat within hearing distance, cast a glance in Brock’s direction, then leaned across the table to speak to her countryman.

“Mr. Flynn, might I have a word?”

Lucius looked at her curiously and, he must admit, a bit hesitantly. Had he said something wrong?

“Yes, Miss Brennan?” he asked, slowly.

Evelyn smiled.

“I believe you’ve earned your share of indulgence tonight. Have a pint on me, would you? I promise I won’t tell.”

The room was full of noise, but Lucius was quite certain he heard her correctly.

His face split into a grin.

“Why, Miss Brennan, you’re not growing soft, are you?”

She tossed her hair in defiance.

“Of course not. But any servant who pleases his mistress deserves a reward.”

“I thought you were
my
servant.”

“You pledged yourself to
me
, remember?”

“Then alas, we are both servants, one to another.”

“Let us be Lord and Lady,” Evelyn winked. “Just for tonight.”

Lucius laughed.

“Then by the gods,” he said, “we must both have an ale, in celebration of our great accompaniment to each other.”

“You delivered me from the clutches of a demon.”

“And you lifted me up from the tomb of the sea.”

“Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

After what seemed like an eternity, the food was brought out. As the dishes were set upon the table, a silence settled upon the room. Suddenly, the travelers were not quite as ravenous as they were a moment ago. They studied the entrée with a sense of confusion, which gradually turned to horror.

Whispers followed the silence as each man leaned towards his neighbor.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I
want
to know.”

“Surely you don’t think it’s a-”

“Sssh! Don’t say it. I can’t bear it.”

“But it must be! It looks so much like a-”

“I said sssh!”

“This can’t possibly be what’s for supper.”

“Smell it.”

“What?”

“I said smell it! See if it’s what we’ve been waiting for.”

“Dear God.”

“What is it?”

“It’s definitely what we’ve been anticipating.”

“But bloody well not what we were expecting!”

“Why in God’s name would they serve us a-”

“Sssh!”

Adele Whitfield kicked away from the table and left the room in a hurry, with Josephine and Bartholomew in her wake. The others watched after her and were sorely tempted to follow.

The guides and porters looked around, wondering what all the fuss was about. They began to cut into the entrée and serve themselves, shaking their heads at the others.

One man pointed to the English-speaking guide, whose fork was positioned at his lips.

“Hector, what is this madness?”

“Heh?”

“How can they serve us this- this-
thing
?”

Hector looked genuinely confused. He decided to take a bite and mull the question over.

At the sight of him eating, someone promptly fled the room and vomited outside.

The others waited for an explanation.

Finally, the guide shrugged and said, “you no like monkey?”

Everyone wondered if they had heard correctly.

“Monkey? This is a monkey?”

There were a few nervous chuckles, then the room exploded with laughter.

“By Jove! It’s only a monkey!”

“Dig in, fellas!”

With relief came sudden abandon, as the men were hungry and eager to eat. Their previous assessment of the entrée was eased, along with their dismay when they discovered the true origin of the meat; for served the way it was, skinned and skewered, it looked very much like something else entirely.

Hector turned to the man beside him.

“I no understand,” he told him.

The man swallowed.

“Why, we just thought this little feller was a baby.”

Hector sat back in his chair and looked about the room in alarm.

“
Padre Dios
,” he muttered. “Who you people think we are?”

The man shrugged and took another bite.

* * *

            Evelyn was not among those who found a monkey more appetizing than a human child, so she quickly drained her beer and departed to find Adele. The poor woman’s nerves must have been in a dreadful state.

            As Evelyn had not slept the night before, she was eager for a proper bed, and her exhaustion was more acute than her hunger. She had looked forward to reaching this hotel since she had heard of it, and now she could acquire what it was she had so keenly anticipated.

When she stepped into the sleeping quarters, however, she was thoroughly disappointed. The forty beds were all crammed into one room. They were stacked three high, and were no more than wooden frames with stretched and soiled canvases. The floor had not been swept, so dust and rubbish had begun to collect along the walls. The space was sparse and smelled of mildew and urine.

            Evelyn stood hard-faced in the doorway a moment, hand balled in a fist against her hip. Bartie was crying for want of food, and Josephine was searching for the flatbread she had saved from the afternoon meal.

            Adele was sitting on a bed, staring blankly at the wall.

            “It’s not exactly Buckingham Palace, is it?” Evelyn sighed.

She huffed into the room and sat beside her friend.

            “I don’t think I shall ever get accustomed to this kind of life,” she added.

            “This is not our way of life,” Adele murmured. “It is only our journey. I have to remind myself of that, as well. One day, the both of us will have homes to call our own, where we can bake fresh, hot bread whenever we wish, and I shall never see another jungle for as long as I live.”

            Evelyn smiled, feeling that some internal change had taken place within her friend since that afternoon. She gladly indulged her.

            “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

            Adele looked at the floor.

            “This place has tried me greatly, my dear Evelyn. I shall always remember Panama as my ‘dark night of the soul’, and I am most eager to leave it behind.”

            “I understand. But do you believe California will be any different?”

            “My husband seemed to believe so. After all, he sacrificed his life to get there. I owe it to him to give it my best effort.”

            “Will you not turn back and return to England?” Evelyn asked, a question that had been at the back of her mind since the incident in Chagres four days ago. “Surely without Mr. Whitfield, you and Bartie would be better off living with your family, in your home.”

            “No,” Adele replied with a shake of her head. “This was Stephen’s dream, and because I loved him, I adopted it as my own. I would betray my own destiny if I betrayed his.”

            “Then you will continue your religious obligations?”

            Adele grimaced.

            “I do not know what I shall do in California,” she replied. “It is strange to think that I shall be on my own, without my husband to guide and assist me. We had discussed opening an inn: some place where the miners could stay and we could grow to know them, love them, and help them, should the need arise. But as Stephen is no longer with me, perhaps Josephine and I will find a school or a hospital where we may be of some use. I do love children, and should God place some helpless babes in my arms, I would not protest.”

            Evelyn looked at her friend earnestly.

            “You will not be on your own,” she told her. “I will do all that is within my power to see that you thrive in California. I will do whatever you ask of me. I should like to accompany you in whatever path you take. You are my friend, and I wish to remain with you and your son, and Josephine also.”

            “How kind of you to say, my dear Evelyn. But surely your guardian has grown weary of our company?”

            “Lucius? On the contrary! Have you not seen the way he adores Josephine? The way he looks after you and Bartie? Adele Whitfield, I should be frightened to see Mr. Flynn
apart
from you, for your family brings out pieces of him that I have not seen since we were children. If you should leave us, he might very well return to his selfish ways, and that would be a terrible tragedy indeed!”

            “He does seem to have altered a great deal since we arrived in Panama.”

            “A valid reason why we should remain as one company.”

            “But what of Mr. Donnigan? I am not blind to the change that has occurred between the two of you.”

            Evelyn’s shoulders tensed.

            “Yes, well, recent events have proven that Mr. Donnigan is not quite the man I hoped he was. I do not much care what becomes of him, and I do not suspect he will remain with us much longer. I have given him no reason to.”

            “Such a pity. He was so handsome.”

            “Indeed. But what of our dear Winston?” Evelyn teased in hopes of changing the subject. “Do you believe he shall join us?”

            “Oh, my poor Winston,” Adele sighed. “I do hope those were not close relations of his in the dining room. I am sorry to have fled, but I could not stomach the thought. The poor creatures looked so much like infants, what with their hair removed and all.”

            “How did you know they were not?”

            “One had only look closely, my dear. I have a child of my own, you know, and these Panamanians are so dear. I was not about to believe they were in the practice of eating one another.”

* * *

The following morning, the shade of the sky was only just beginning to lighten when Evelyn opened her eyes.

She awoke to a symphony of sounds. Men were slumbering all around, their arms thrown across their eyes, their mouths open and snoring loudly. Outside, the mules shuffled and brayed while a plethora of birds filled the air with screeching, cawing, whistling, and singing. Somewhere nearby, a rooster crowed.

Owing to her exhaustion, Evelyn had slept so soundly that the last thing she remembered was batting away a mosquito as she laid down her head the night before. Nothing had disturbed her in her sleep, not even the men as they lumbered to their own beds after supper. She looked about the room in the gray morning light and saw their heavy, sleeping forms. When was the last time she had been alone? Privacy was a rare privilege here. She had a moment- just a moment- to steal before everyone else began to stir, and she was resolved to take it. Feeling more refreshed than she had in days, Evelyn swung her legs over the edge of her narrow bed frame, her feet slipping silently to the floor. She pulled a robe over her nightclothes and picked her way across the room, stepping over piles of boots and napsacks. When she reached the exit, however, the number of sleeping bodies did not come to an end. She went outside, where men were scattered along the ground, tucked up against the wall of the hotel, sprawled around makeshift firepits, and curled into tight little balls here and there. One gentleman slept sitting up against the base of a tree, and even in the dim light, Evelyn could see a line of fire ants moving up and down behind him. The poor wretch must have passed out, and she wondered how many stinging welts he would find when he awoke.

She was not alone in this clearing any more than she had been inside the hotel. She looked around for someplace she might find solitude and discovered a narrow footpath that led away into the trees. Recalling what had happened the last time she wandered off on her own, she thought of Winston. She smiled to herself, wondering how she had ever thought of his cute little face as threatening. Where was he now?