Part 10 (1/2)
”Gently, gently!” Will called out as the huge waterwheel was guided into the millrace so that the axle could be inserted and secured in place. Ever since French troops had wrecked the mill, the wheel had been lying half submerged in the river.
Since Will didn't have the materials to rebuild the bridge yet, he'd proposed rebuilding the mill and had recruited a couple of dozen strong young men to do the heavy lifting. Millstones and waterwheels were hard to destroy, so mostly this was a matter of putting the pieces back together.
Inside the thick-walled stone building, the ma.s.sive millstones that would grind the grain into flour had been remounted earlier in the morning. Will and the mill owner, Senor de Sousa, had repaired and repositioned the complicated gears that transmitted the power of the river to the millstones.
The last step was raising and remounting the waterwheel. Will had calculated where to anchor pulleys on the wall of the mill, and the young men were now hauling on them to pull the wheel upright so it could be remounted in the millrace.
With a squeal of wet wood on metal, the wheel was secured in place and immediately started turning as the river current pushed against the blades. The workers cheered and splashed more water at each other.
Will held his breath while Senor de Sousa engaged the gears. The runner stone on top began turning against the stationary bed stone below. Success! The gristmill was back in business. The mill owner gave a whoop of joy. ”Praise the Blessed Mother and all the saints! And thank you, my friends, for aiding me. Now, we feast!”
Will found the mill repair a satisfyingly physical project after a week of canva.s.sing the valley with the Olivieras. Memories of the French invasion were still vivid, so most Gabrilenos welcomed the proposal to form small military defensive districts to provide safety and swift reactions if there were more attacks.
As Will had told Athena before the journey began, he stayed in the background and let the Olivieras do the explaining and persuasion, but his uniform was welcomed. The British were popular in San Gabriel. Quietly he evaluated the defensible merits of manor houses and caves, and also inventoried water sources, weapons, foodstuffs, and other supplies that would be needed to create safe refuges.
The work kept him busy and so tired that thoughts of Athena didn't keep him awake all night. Instead, he dreamed of her, and woke up yearning. And burning.
Reinstalling the waterwheel was wet work, and Will was saturated. Luckily, the day was warm. He was drying his face with a small, ragged towel when Gilberto approached. ”A good day's work, eh, Major?” the younger man called.
”Indeed it is. Now it's time to return to Castelo Blanco,” Will said. ”The supplies I ordered should be here in the next day or two.”
”Later to the castle, but as Senor de Sousa said, first we feast to celebrate rebuilding the mill,” Gilberto said. ”See, coming down the castle road are carts and ladies. Such a celebration is traditional when many work together for the common good.”
Will looked back along the road that led to the castle. His pulse quickened when he saw Athena and the princess riding in front of the carts. There were a dozen other females, all dressed in their festive best. Thinking that Athena was a sight for hungry eyes, Will said, ”I like this custom!”
When the cart reached the mill, both ladies and food were greeted with enthusiasm. Gilberto's mother and sisters had come with several girls from the town. Amid much laughter, knee rugs were spread out on the shaded embankment and baskets of food and jugs of wine were unloaded from the cart under the supervision of Senora Oliviera.
Will skirted the crowd and headed to Athena, who was admiring the churning waterwheel from atop her horse. She used a sidesaddle today and her green riding habit made her complexion look like delicious cream. He wanted to lick her all over.
”Good day, Lady Athena!” He couldn't stop himself from grinning. ”I'm told this kind of celebration is customary. What a very civilized country San Gabriel is.”
”True, but don't discount the lure of seeing a large number of handsome young men in their s.h.i.+rtsleeves and wet to the skin!” She was regarding Will with undisguised approval, and he was abruptly aware of how his wet white s.h.i.+rt clung to his shoulders and torso. Barely decent, in fact, but he liked the expression on her face.
”Behold an engineer in his native habitat,” he said with a sweeping bow.
”Is your current state typical of a military engineer?”
”Usually there's more mud. I enjoy splas.h.i.+ng around on a pleasant day like this one.” Freezing water and artillery fire had made such projects less appealing in places like Badajoz. But that was the past. Now was better. ”May I help you dismount?”
She hesitated a moment. Athena was perfectly capable of dismounting on her own and they both knew it, but a gentleman's offer to help a lady from her horse was an excuse to touch. Will was pleased when she nodded and slid down into his waiting hands.
For just an instant he continued to hold her slim waist. She had a delicious tangy scent of rosemary, and he saw in her eyes that she remembered their evening on the rooftop as clearly as he did.
As he stepped away, she said a little breathlessly, ”I've realized that the relations.h.i.+p scale needs another category. Flirting. Enjoying each other's company with a bit of romantic awareness, but no intention of going beyond.”
This was promising. ”An excellent idea. Let us restructure the scale into four categories. Friends.h.i.+p, flirting, a love affair, and marriage.”
She tethered her mount. ”Indifference and enmity are still possibilities.”
”I could never be indifferent to you,” he breathed. ”And I'll do my best to insure you never look on me as an enemy.”
She blushed and looked down to tie up the trailing skirts of her riding habit. ”You are certainly flirting now, so the new category must be accepted.”
He smiled. ”I am definitely flirting. I have been waiting all week for the opportunity to do so.”
”That goes beyond flirting to shameless flattery,” she said, amused. ”Was your work this past week successful?”
”Yes, no one has forgotten General Baudin, so just about everyone liked the idea of strengthening their ability to resist marauders of various sorts.”
”Good! I want to hear details.” She turned to her horse and took a lightweight, coa.r.s.ely woven knee rug from her saddlebag. ”The custom at these informal celebrations is to sit on rugs and chat and eat. The ladies bring their own rugs and usually stay in one place while the gentlemen tend to move around. It's interesting to watch.”
Will took the rug and shook it out in a patch of shade from a clump of spindly trees. The striped pattern was in natural shades of sheep wool with a few gra.s.s stains from prior usage. ”Since many of the young men are recently returned home, I imagine there's a great deal of flirting.”
Athena gracefully seated herself on one end of the rug, her knees tucked to one side. ”I'm a chaperone and my job is to insure that the flirting stays within acceptable bounds. Gabrilenos love a good time, and celebrating community efforts is a perfect excuse. Of course there's also the exhilaration of the war ending.”
”Am I allowed to share your rug?”
”If you are willing to align yourself with a staid chaperone, please do.” Her words were prim, but her hazel eyes danced.
He laughed and settled on the rug, which was large enough for two tall adults to sit without touching. He wished it were a bit smaller, but then he might be less welcome.
”Were the districts you tentatively sketched out workable?” Athena asked.
”Yes, Senor Oliviera seems to know every hill and field in the entire country, so his original estimates were accurate. In a couple of places, access to water meant adjustments might be made, but, overall, the organizing went very smoothly.”
”What is needed most?”
”More weapons and more food supplies that will keep indefinitely, like beans and rice,” he said promptly. ”Bringing in food is easy and not very expensive, and I hope we have time to do it. Weapons are another matter.”
Her brow furrowed. ”How well can the strong points be defended?”
”That depends on the kind of a.s.sault,” he said. ”The Gabrilenos' traditional construction style of high stone walls around a house, a well, and outbuildings makes it very easy to lock out casual bandits who want to sweep in and steal what they can. But a larger, better-armed, more determined gang of brigands is much more dangerous, especially if they're willing to lay siege.”
Athena frowned. ”I hope your itchy feeling of trouble coming means casual bandits, not the more determined kind. The weapons situation will improve when Colonel da Silva and the rest of the troops return.”
”Yes, and that can't be more than a few weeks off,” he said rea.s.suringly. But his sense of danger suggested worse than casual bandits, and in the not very distant future. He'd like to think he was wrong, but his sixth sense had been very reliable in the past.
A laughing girl from the town approached and offered them a tray that held clay cups and a mound of warm little pastry pockets rather like English Cornish pasties. Will accepted wine and three of the little pies. ”Thank you, senorita,” he said. ”Rebuilding gristmills is hungry work.”
”Our thanks to you, Major Masterson. My mama was almost out of flour.” She bobbed a curtsy and darted away.
The pies had a spicy filling that was mostly beans, onions, and peppers with garlic and sharp, interesting herbs. Will demolished the first in two bites. ”I gather this is the Gabrileno version of the empanada, but with different spicing? Tasty.”
Athena handed him one of several napkins she'd brought along. ”Yes, though in more prosperous times there would be some meat, probably smoked pork, mixed in with the vegetables.” She ate her empanada more neatly, but with enthusiasm.
The red wine was cool and sweetly tangy with bits of chopped fruit. ”And this is the Gabrileno version of sangria?”