Fra Diavolo looked down from his mighty seat. “Ai, mi coronel, I was expecting Your Mercy.”
83“Honest, now? Or weren’t you worrying lest I’d got left back in Tampico?”
One of the ranchero’s hands rose, palm out, deprecatingly.
“But someone might have told you I didn’t get left at all,” Driscoll pursued. “Segundino maybe? Or was it Juan?”
“Or Don Tiburcio?” suggested the captain. He dismounted and doffed his big sombrero. “Good, I see you brought Her Ladyship safely.”
“Or I myself, rather,” said Jacqueline, reining in her pony at the moment, “Ah, the Señor Capitan as an escort knows how to make himself prized by much anticipation.”
“Señorita!” The Mexican bent in heavy ceremony, the sombrero covering his breast. “I am honored, even in Your Mercy’s censure. Those who deserve it could not appreciate it more.”
“Forward then, captain. On with the excuses, I promise to believe them.”
“Those sailors, my lady, who fight with kicks. Ugh!–they attacked some of my men this morning in Tampico. I had to call at the fort for aid.”
“Oh, but Maximilian shall hear of this!”