The Madonna of the Atlas

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: Non, je ne regrette rien. Rating: K Time: Season five and elsewhen.

Somehow Miss Beckett was next to him. "We could have fresh mutton instead of the alleged food you've been eating." She began to stand up, but Castle grabbed her arm and pulled her back down. In the dying light of the flares he could see her glare at him.

"Arab raiders could have driven the sheep towards us to mark where our heavy weapons are, or in hopes we'd leave the perimeter. You could be shot if you stood up."

Beckett nodded. "Thank you." Then she added. "Wouldn't the scouts have reacted to an attack? If this was one?"

He shrugged. "If they're still alive. Or perhaps they were waiting for the attack to begin before attacking from the rear. Or maybe they saw it was only some lost shepherd with his flock, and did nothing."

She nodded again and headed back to her bedroll.

Castle moved the machine guns again, just to be sure, checked the sentries and finally went back to his bed. As he lay there, he remembered the feel of Beckett's arm. Smooth skin and supple muscles. He wondered how those arms would feel around him. He remembered a photo of her in a Paris newspaper. She wore the short skirts that had become popular after the war. She had magnificent legs. He wondered how those would feel wrapped around him. He shook his head to clear it. No wealthy and famous American writer would ever be interested in some soldier.

Dawn showed that the sheep had been mauled or taken away by predators, whether two legged or four legged was unknown. The Berber scouts came drifting in reporting that they had seen no one but the shepherd.

"Perhaps that was all there was." Said Tariq. "Perhaps not. Only Allah knows."

The squadron got underway again with a minimum of fuss. Some hours after noon, a pair of Berber scouts came galloping up to the column.

One of them smiled at Castle and salaamed. "There is a caravan at the abu Zim well. We counted sixty-one camels. Not enough to drink the well dry, but Tariq has said they appear to be settling in for the night. They are going south while we go north. Merchants will welcome us as protection against raiders."

Castle nodded and looked at the sun. They could afford to stop for the night at the well.

"What is this well?" Miss Beckett asked. She had ridden up beside him.

"Many years ago, perhaps hundreds, or even thousands of years ago, someone dug a well in the desert, through twenty or thirty meters of solid rock. Even in the hottest and driest years, the well is always full of good water. We'll stop there for the night."

The squadron rode slowly up to the well and were greeted by the assembled merchants. Castle dismounted and was offered small, but very sweet cups of Turkish coffee. He offered larger cups of French coffee. The merchants thanked Castle in very flowery language for stopping there and providing protection from raiders. Castle noted that the caravan's guards were very well armed and said he was happy to add his forces to theirs. Neither party mentioned that in different circumstances, each would be happy to kill the other.

As Castle was setting the squadron up for the night, Tariq motioned to him. "One camel of one Ibn Said from the Fezzan is quite heavily loaded with sheepskins. So loaded that a suspicious man might think that something heavy was under those skins."

Castle nodded. "I am a suspicious man. Let us go see Sergent-Chef Smith and then see what may be."

The two men walked slowly to where Smith was and appraised him of what Tariq had found. Smith called Legionnaires Steiner and Konev to him and explained things to them. Then, all five men walked towards Ibn Said and his oddly heavy camel, all the time talking animatedly among themselves.

Before he knew what had happened, Castle found himself on his back with a burning pain in his side. He could hear gunfire and shouting, but could see nothing but the sky. Then Kate Beckett's face appeared over him.

"You've been shot." She said, matter-of-factly.

"I've been shot before." He replied. "What's happening? Help me get up." He tried to sit up, only to be held down by the American.

Sergent-chef Smith walked up with a rifle in his hand. "He was smuggling guns, sir. Seventeen Spanish Mauser rifles and about 1200 rounds of ammunition. Either stolen, bought or taken from the dead in Spanish Morocco."

"What about Ibn Said?" Castle demanded.

"Dead with one of his men, the one who shot you. His other men swear upon the Koran that they knew nothing of this."

Castle grimaced. He could feel the pain now that the adrenaline was wearing off. "Destroy the weapons and ammunition. We may as well let the rest of his men go….."

He was interrupted by Surgeon-Captain Maine. "We need to look at your wound, sir. We'll have to cut your tunic away.

"It's an old one anyway." He muttered.

Now bare chested, both Maine and Miss Beckett examined him. Beckett delivered the verdict. "You've been lucky, Captain. You have a nasty gouge along your rib cage, but you don't appear to have any damage to the bones or your lungs. We'll clean you up with alcohol and then sew you up. Just a stitch or two. Here. Drink this." He felt lukewarm coffee being poured in his mouth.

"I'd rather have coffee with a bit of rum in it." He said.

"I put some juice of the opium poppy in it. You'll rest for a few hours."

"I'm in command here! I can't be asleep!" But he could already feel his eyelids growing heavy.

When he woke up it was night. He tried to sit up, but was too woozy and fell back.

"You're awake." Beckett said. "Good."

"How long have I been out?"

"About six hours. How do you feel?"

"Fine. I need to get up." He tried again, but the very light touch of her hand on his forehead stopped him. "What's happened?"

"Your men have set up a defensive perimeter. The men and horses are all fed and watered. Everything is in order, Captain."

"What about the weapons we found?"

"Destroyed. Smith filled the barrels with sand, then pounded them into the ground, it's just sand here. He ran a string to the trigger, stood back, pulled the trigger, and the gun exploded. Then another and another. For good measure, the big corporal who shoes horses…?'

"Farrier Zinoviev." Castle supplied for her,

"Zinoviev got out a big hammer and an anvil and bashed away at what was left of the bolts and barrels. The men pulled the cartridges apart, set fire to the gunpowder and Zinoviev bashed the brass cases and the bullets to bits. No one could ever put the weapons together again."

Castle remembered something. "Thank you for your help today."

"You're welcome. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to make dinner for us. I have a rather nice basket from Fortnum and Mason and a number of things from Harrods. Would you like some potted quail for dinner? With new potatoes?"

He grunted affirmatively.

"I'll have your coffee in a second."

The meal was the best he'd had since he'd gone to Paris on leave after the end of the war. Sadly, it reminded him of England and home. He did thank Miss Beckett fulsomely, however.

Castle was tired and in pain and just falling asleep again when Beckett laid out her bedroll right next to him.

"Miss Beckett!" He said, somewhat scandalized. "You shouldn't sleep right next to me."

She laughed. "I think my virtue will be safe, Captain Castle. After all, I am protected by a heavily armed squadron of cavalry. And, I need to keep an eye on my patient. Doctor Maine and I didn't see any evidence of further damage, but that doesn't mean there isn't any."

She rolled herself into her bedroll and wished him a good night.

Thoughts went through Castle's mind about what it would be like to be sleeping with Beckett, but he soon fell asleep.

Castle woke before dawn and began to get up. He found he was stiff and sore, and his side ached. Suddenly Beckett was by his side.

"You're going to try to get up, aren't you?"

"We can't stay here and being carried like supplies by a pack horse would be even worse than riding Onyx." Suddenly Castle realized something. "All I have on are my drawers. Who…? " He stopped when he realized who had undressed him.

"Really, Captain Castle. I served as a nurse in the front lines in Italy. I've seen men in much worse shape than you." She added flirtatiously, "And to be honest, you are in wonderful shape." She turned away from Castle. "Bugler Kaminski, we need to get the captain up, dressed and ready to go. We'll probably need a few more people and his clothes."

Kaminski ran off and quickly came back with Tariq, Smith and Giamatti. With some cursing, interrupted by apologies to Miss Beckett, Castle was gotten on his feet and dressed. He felt lucky that Giamatti only dropped his boots on his feet twice.

Beckett rode next to him throughout the day. To keep an eye on him, she said. But Castle almost felt like he was being flirted with, but with Beckett it was hard to tell.

"Where are we headed to, exactly?" She asked after noon.

"Fort Dugny. The Third Company of the First REI is there. The Regiment Etrangere d'Infantrie, that is."

Beckett smiled. "I know what an REI is, Captain. Is it like Fort ZInderneuf?"

He shook his head, making him dizzy. "It's more like something from the Great War. Trenches, bunkers and barbed wire. No walls and towers like Zinderneuf."

Fort Dugny was as Castle had stated. It was a long, low hill scarred with trenches and bunkers, surrounded by a thin cordon of barbed wire. Attached to the wire were old ration tins filled with a few rocks. In theory, if someone tried to creep through the wire, the sound of the cans rattling would alert the sentries. But the blowing wind would also rattle the cans. Underneath a foot of sand, the hill was solid rock. Any rocks dug up to make trenches or bunkers were put in old oil drums and put in front of the trenches for cover. That, a company of Legionnaires and Captain Klos, was Fort Dugny.

Klos stomped out to the gate of Fort Dugny to greet Castle. "By damn!" He shouted. "They said you had a beautiful woman with you, Richard, but I thought it was just Arab gossip or a mirage." Klos threw back his head and laughed. Klos was a big man, some inches taller than Castle and perhaps forty pounds heavier. His face was covered with a beard that seemed to begin at his eyes and went to his belt.

"Well, come in. Come in. We need to get your men set up before the night's festivities begin."

"You've been having trouble?" Castle asked.

Klos laughed again. "Trouble? In Algeria? Of course!" Then he was more serious. "We have snipers in the hills around us. Normally, no one could hit anything here from those hills, but the locals have some new tricks. Intelligence, for what it's worth, said they have some German deserters from the Legion that took off with some Mausers with Zeiss telescopic sights. They're either using them themselves, or have taught the locals. I've been sending my Berber scouts to try to catch them, but no luck so far. Legionnaires make too damned much noise in the night." Suddenly he remembered a lady was present. "My apologies, Miss."

Beckett smiled at him. "You're right. Legionnaires make too much damned noise at night."

With that, Klos roared with laughter.

Castle and his troop commanders hurried to get everyone under cover before nightfall. The horses had to be hobbled and left unprotected. Their only protection being that an Arab would much rather steal a horse than kill one.

The sun was almost down and Castle was just finishing setting up his lone mountain gun in a shallow gun pit when the first shot was fired. It missed Beckett by inches, but spattered her leg with rock fragments. The second shot arrived seconds later, zipping by her head. Castle grabbed her around the waist and dove into a slit trench, landing heavily on her.