Chapter 8

The days were long and hard on her journey to Portugal, Spain's closest neighbor. Tabitha had been given directions to a small fishing village in Portugal called Setubal. She trudged on foot for hours for the next week. The landscape was in endless array and the summer heat was once again taking over her. She quivered as heat exhaustion began to set in. Her once fine impeccable feet were now raw and blistered. She had worn her only pair of shoes to shambles. Only 15 minuets out of the town of Evora she felt her head begin to spin. The heat and her weakness were just too much to bare. She allowed the darkness to overcome her mind.

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Tabitha slowly opened her eyes and began to brush herself off. She was moving. The ground beneath her rattled uncontrollably. But she couldn't possibly be on the ground. What lied beneath her was soft and comfortable, like straw. She jumped at the sudden sound of a voice. "Estão finalmente acordado!" She strained her mind to translate the words, but seemed to be failing miserably. He was speaking in Portuguese. The only word she recognized was acordado meaning 'awake.'

There were few words that she actually knew in Portuguese, hello-oi, food-o alimento, and speak English-inglês. "Speak English," she muttered. Tabitha sighed with relief as the voice showed understanding.

"I am sorry," the voice said.

"Where am I? Where are you taking me? Who are you?" she exclaimed, her wits escaping.

"Hmm... questions, questions, questions... Right now you are in de back of my cart. I am taking you home with me... My name is Emil Estavez," the voice said. Tabitha quickly sat up to get a look at the stranger that she was now in company with. The man was rather old and slightly balding. His cheeks were red with sunburn. He appeared to be harmless by the cheerful grin that played across his thin lips.

No matter how friendly this stranger looked, she continued to protest. "You aren't taking me anywhere. I need to get back on the road. I am losing time right this minuet, while I am talking to you."

"One more hour out dere," Emil motioned to the vast desert plains surrounding the road, "and you'll be dead. Besides, you need your rest. I found you passed out in de middle of de road back dere."

"I was only resting..." Tabitha growled.

"Where are you headed?" Emil asked.

"Setubal."

"Ah, leaving the country. Where are you headed from dere?" he smiled.

Tabitha looked away uneasily, "That's none of your business."

"Ha, a runaway. You'd best not make note of dat to me wife. A terrible temper, dat she has."

"She would be mad?" Tabitha asked.

"Si, she would. She would never think of throwing you out, of course, but she wouldn't be too fond of me for de next few weeks."

"This really isn't a good idea. I need to get to-"

Emil cut her off, "I know, I know... the coast, right?" Tabitha nodded. "Well, I tell you what. Tomorrow I will take you to Setubal in my cart -"

Tabitha did a leap for joy.

"- but! You must rest yourself tonight."

She sighed, "I couldn't let you do that."

Emil grinned, "I'm not asking."