IV. Sahara's spy
"Easy, boy…" She whispered gently, one hand carefully raised. The horse neighed as its hooves beat the river's water, rocking its head up and down while making the reins fly in the air at the same pace. With quick reflexes, Eleanor took hold of the reins, securing them firmly in her fist. Her other hand shot up to the stallion's neck, rubbing his pitch black, soaked coat in an attempt to soothe him. After a few jerks from the stubborn animal that nearly made her lose her grip, the horse began to show signs of appeasement, giving her whole arm a lull. She stroked him once more fondly, with a full smile gracing her face, still drenched from head to toe due to their late-night-swim. "There, not so bad, uh?"
With small steps, and glancing over her shoulder every two seconds, she led the horse out of the water, further into the shore and close to where her brother was standing alongside their friends. The three of them appeared to be deep in conversation, their gaze directed to something at the opposite side of the river and small smirks drawn on their lips. The three men stopped talking once she got by their side. "What are you boys looking at?" She asked, only to be ignored. The young woman followed their intense gaze, finding four other people standing at the other side of the river. One of them was a woman, and Eleanor couldn't help but notice the heat rising up to her cheeks and neck, causing her to blush in embarrassment. Turning around, she slapped hard Bernie's shoulder again, breaking the spell all of them had been put under. "Oi! You makin' a habit out a' this?" He asked with tongue in cheek.
"Only when you deserve it! Need I to remind you of Lizzie?" That made all humor disappear from his blue eyes. Clearing awkwardly his throat, he quickly avoided both her glare and stealing a last glance at the woman soaked in a very sheer nightgown… It didn't help how the white color of the fabric made her even more easily spotted.
"I…" Gesturing with his finger at somewhere behind him, Bernard simply walked off. Eleanor let out a sigh with a small shake of her head.
"Nellie, ever our bluenose, ready to take the cake from cake-eaters!" Henderson exclaimed.
She rolled her eyes, her fist tightening faintly due to her sudden nerves. "Excuse me if I'd rather not see my brother cheating on his fiancée…" She mumbled, earning a snort from Daniels.
"That ain't cheating, just a man lookin' at a choice bit a' calico, nothin' serious." He said calmly. Right after, he dove his hand inside his jacket's pocket, trying to fish for a cigarette and his lighter. Seconds later, he groaned irritated. "What's a man do to get a gasper?" Henderson chuckled, tossing into his mouth the only piece of tobacco that he hadn't lost to the water or the boat. Daniels glared, looking rather exasperated, at the equally childish and annoying cowboy he called friend but, surprisingly, made no remarks as he simply turned around and walked off too, fuming. Eleanor watched his back, and hoped he'd actually find a cigarette or two soon. Otherwise, he would be too much of a Mrs. Grundy.
Adele watched as her rescuer suddenly got on her feet and strode rapidly towards somewhere, leaving her with her thoughts. She felt quite ashamed of how she had treated the American woman early in the day. Not that she would ever admit this out loud, though. Pushing aside her contemplations and momentarily forgetting about how cold she was, she forced her legs to stretch themselves, making her stand up. Her chattering teeth and shaky arms didn't make it easy, tempting her to just lay on the sand and curl herself up in a ball to keep some body heat. Nevertheless, Adele shut such thoughts and made her feet move, taking small steps first, then making them bigger as in her body the numbness began to slowly fade. With her hands holding an iron grip on her dressing gown, trying not only to keep warm but also whatever modesty and dignity she had left, she looked at her surroundings. The darkness of the night prevented her from getting a proper look at the people on the shore, but she was able to conclude that none of her companions was among the mass of strangers and horses.
Upon coming to such realization, fear was the first emotion to make an appearance; fear for the Carnahan siblings, and Mr. O'Connell too. Where they alive? Had they survived the attack? If so, where were they now? Her mind and heart were racing. Moreover, what was she going to do if she couldn't find them? Good Lord, she was alone in the middle of the desert! "Okay Adele, that's enough." She told herself firmly. If she continued down that train of thought, she would end up having an anxiety attack.
First things first; finding out where could she go from her current location to the nearest village took priority. She was certain some tribe or village would be settled near the Nile. The European egyptologist looked around once more... Who could she ask for help? She wasn't too kin on walking up to any of the men; with a drenched nightgown, she didn't feel her usual confidence whatsoever. It took her a moment to register that, before deciding, her brain had already deduced that the best would be to remain with her saviour, so her eyes already were looking for her. Finally, she spotted the American woman holding a horse's reins beside a man, both equally soaked. Adele couldn't help but sigh. With nothing but the clothes she wore, there was no place for pride. "Beggars cannot be chosers," she told herself. Taking one last deep breath, she marched towards them.
Eleanor noticed her first through the corner of her eye, walking towards them with her familiar resolute pace. Even drenched and almost as pale as a corpse, that woman still managed to look all-dignified. The Brit was holding her dressing gown, trying to cover her body, and her face was set in a determined mask, all of the emotions she had displayed before perfectly covered by her rather aristocratic attitude. Eleanor still hadn't decided whether she admired that or was bothered by it... Hmm, possibly both. She turned around, facing her. Henderson glanced to his right too then, confused, bu when the British woman appeared in his line of vision, his facial expression turned contemplative, much like the first time he had seen her back at the boat's bar. However, this time the emotions only remained in his eyes, the rest of his face carefully guarded with his best poker face.
"Excuse me, miss?" Her voice wasn't as delicate nor high-pitched as he had imagined, and was slightly raspy, probably because of the cold of the night. "We didn't introduce ourselves. My name's Adele Jennings, and I'm afraid I'm lost. I can't find my friends anywhere here, and I was wondering if you would mind if I'd go with you until we reach the nearest village."
"Straight to the point, uh?" Henderson couldn't help but think, faintly amused. He casted a quick glance towards Nellie, who looked at a loss of words. The Brit broad, he noticed, seemed slightly impatient. He was debating whether to save Eleanor from her own shyness or let himself enjoy the show, when said woman surprised him speaking up. "I... don't think I can decide that, Miss Jennings. I mean, I'm not travelling alone, I'd better consult it with my brother and our friends, and I'm not sure they..."
Laughing mentally to himself, he interrupted his friend. "Bushwa! I'm sure we can find room for a lady in distress." He joked while smirking, in an effort to lessen Eleanor's nerves and the Brit's tension. He changed his smirk for a charming smile, extending his hand towards the Brit, who was giving him an unimpressed look and had her jaw clenched. "Howard Henderson, miss." The woman forced a little smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and grasped her smaller hand around his. He tried to ignore both, how soft and cold her skin felt against his, as well as the small disappointment formed in the pit of his stomach as they shook hands. However, he didn't allow his smile to fall.
"Mr. Henderson," She released her grip. "Are you certain that I won't be an inconvenient to you and miss...?" The broad glanced at his friend, uncertain.
"Eleanor." Spoke up the American woman, "I'm Eleanor Burns." She said, her hand unconsciously playing with the horse's reins, not enough to bother the animal, though.
The Brit, "-No, not broad or Brit; Adele." He mentally corrected himself. Adele nodded, this time gazing at Nellie. "Miss Burns... Can I count with your help then?"
The two opened their mouths to answer when someone beat them. "Help fer what?"
The three turned to look at the man who had spoken. "Hey, Daniels. Miss Jennings here's lost, asked if she could come with us to the nearest village to look for 'er friends there." Henderson easily summarized their conversation.
"Precisely." Adele added, faintly annoyed that the cowboy had answered for her. The other man, addressed as Daniels, pored over her appearance, his dark eyes hard and impassive, before responding.
"That so? Tell me Miss Jennings, where ya goin'?" He asked.
She frowned, confused. "With all due respects, Mr. Daniels, is it? I don't see how that's your concern." Her voice was determined, just like her demeanour. Henderson resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow.
Daniels gave her a false smile which radiated sarcasm. "Listen 'ere, miss. It's my damn business when ya intend to come with me an' my diggers and possibly spend my money, so I'll ask again. Where ya goin'?" Eleanor kept flickering her gaze between them, nervous. She knew David didn't appreciated being bossed around, especially by a woman he had met only a couple of minutes ago.
Miss Jennings' jaw tensed, before relaxing a bit. "My peers and I planned a journey through the Sahara, we want to make some research on Ancient Egypt history." She reluctantly said, not sure if she should specified her desired location.
"Ya a historian or somethin' like that?" Henderson asked, his brows furrowed with interest. Can it be...?
"An archaeologist, actually." Yes, she was the one. The three Americans exchanged looks before David restarted the conversation.
"Ya lookin' fer Hamunaptra?" The man bluntly asked, surprise flickering through the woman's features.
"How could you know...?"
"That's where we're goin' too, miss." Answered Henderson again, gaining once more her interest, her brown eyes now focused intently on him. He discovered himself enjoying her whole attention. Definitely an improvement from her previous reactions. Before she could say something else, he spoke once more. "Just wonderin', Miss Jennings, ya happen to know a Brit, John Carnahan...?"
"Yes, of course, he's one of my companions! Have you seen him, Mr. Henderson? Is he alright?" She asked quickly.
"We saw 'im at the other side a' the river, was with two other men an' a broad." Answered Daniels this time.
Adele nodded excitedly, glad that they were all alive. "Good, very good! I could meet with them in the next village."
A few moments of silence passed, before Daniels finally nodded. "Fine. Enjoy our company, Miss Jennings." He added before walking away, his voice dripping with sarcasm once more. A silence formed among them, in which Henderson busied himself with looking at the British woman. Pale skin, even whiter than he recalled due to the cold temperature and their spontaneous freezing bath, graced with a couple of moles, one below her left ear and the other in the left side of her jaw. Full and chapped lips, a shade too dark because of the same reason of her paleness; dark hair framing her soft-featured face, clinging to her shoulders and rather flat chest. If he remembered correctly, her hair was of a lighter shadow, and instead of dark brown as it appeared now, wet under the moonlight, it was auburn. He loved natural redheads. And her eyes, like two wells in which, if you leant in too much, you could end up falling down. He noticed the small shake of her arms, as well as Nellie's chattering teeth. He was chilly too, although did a better job at disguising it. Henderson averted his eyes from the Brit to look at Nellie, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Stick close to Bernie, I'll go find the Bulgarian." He gave a brotherly squeeze to her shoulder and, after casting a last glance at the archaeologist, turned to walk away. The twists of fate were most definitely curious...
They had been walking only for a few minutes and Eleanor couldn't stand the silence anymore. Miss Jennings was by her side, quiet with a rather fast gait, glaring distrustfully every now and again towards the horse the American was leading at her other side, having claimed it as her own. Other than that, they hadn't spoken, nor spared a look, to each other... And it was driving her crazy.
Obviously enough, she doubted Miss Jennings cared about it; back in America she had already encountered similar people, too vain or that had a vision too high of themselves to strike up conversation with her likes. Not that she craved the company of such people, which she liked to call pompous bourgeoisie. She wondered what all those new riches would say if they heard her reciting Latin, saw her dancing to the popular jazz, or they saw the various volumes of literature she had managed to afford and that they boasted about reading as pastime. She clearly wasn't ashamed of her origins, nor of the way she had handled her life; why was so disturbing, so dishonorable that her family and her had to work for what they had? After all, that upper middle class, so proud and respectable, had done the same to get their new wealth... How quickly people forget their origins. "Maybe it's for the better..." Eleanor thought; if Miss Jennings fit into those stereotypes, she'd rather hold the less amount of conversation possible with her. So far, the Brit seemed respectable enough, but Eleanor supposed she would prefer the company of someone of higher class, more equal to her status. Eleanor's speech was educated enough, but not sufficient to fool the highest of society. But then... She gulped. She spied the Brit through the corner of her eye. Was she really an archaeologist? What study could she possibly want to do in a place like Hamunaptra, a tale? Scientists based their knowledge just in logic and tangible evidence, she knew that much. Were not historians like that too?
She really wished she had enough guts to ask her all of these questions... Anyway, Miss Jennings probably had better things to think about; the whereabouts of her friends, for example. Eleanor prefered not to disturb her. Finally, they arrived to the small village Mr. Gabor and a couple of diggers had indicated. Although, rather than a village itself, it was just lots of tents placed in a -more or less- regular space. Inside some of them a fire's light reflected itself on the tents' side, drawing shadows.
Both women stopped as did the rest of their group; not far from them, at the front, Daniels faced them along with her brother and Henderson. "Alright everybody! Get some rest, we leave as soon as possible!" Her brother called. Immediately, the twelve diggers that had survived the fire, or had made it to their side of the river, began to ask for settlement. Eleanor frowned. What was the rush...? She'd have to ask Bernie later. A worker took her stallion's reins, leading him with the rest of the horses. They only had eight, counting with her own. Shrugging, she followed Miss Jennings, who was already peeking her head inside one of the tents. She stood waiting behind her, hearing fluent Arabic spoken rapidly. A moment later, the Brit looked at her.
"They say the two of us can stay here for the night. Faaria and her daughters will give us dry clothes. Come..." Miss Jennings held the covering of the tent open for her, and reluctantly, Eleanor stepped inside, immediately feeling the warmth of the small fire lit. A middle-aged woman and two girls, one around thirteen and the other around sixteen, were sitting on the floor near the fire. The three of them were wearing veils on their heads. While the youngest girl was gazing at her with curious eyes, her mother and sister were much sterner. She gulped, nervous. She didn't spoke a word of their language, so not knowing how to express her gratitude, she simply bowed her head, tentatively sitting near the fire and in front of them. Adele entered the tent too, and after bowing her head, sat down and said something to them. The British woman and Faaria conversed quietly for a few seconds, when the woman commanded her daughters something, making both of them stand. The eldest was sent out of the tent, while the youngest went looking for something in another kind of room, separated from the main room by a curtain. Faaria offered them a loaf of bread for each, which they took without hesitation. Eleanor tried to take small bites despite how hungry she was; after looking around, she deduced this family didn't have much, probably they were quite poor, so she couldn't bring herself to put her hunger ahead of this family's necessities... Their situation hit pretty close to home. Surprised, she caught sight of Miss Jennings doing exactly the same. Once they were done, both Adele and Eleanor gave the rest of the bread back.
Not long after, the eldest child came with a bucket of water almost overflowing. The girl left it on a corner of the tent and sat beside her mother, helping her cook something which they had placed above the fire, adding spices. The younger girl came back, holding some clothes folded in her arms, blankets, and grasping a small perfumed bottle in one hand. She offered them to the foreign women and, after her mother said something to her, she went back inside the other room, not before giving them one last inquisitive look. Faaria and her daughter served them that kind of soup and, after the woman said something to Adele which made her nod, mother and daughter disappeared behind the curtain.
Miss Jennings turned to her. "Faaria said we could use that water to drink and, afterwards, bath if we wish. In the bottle there's oil for our hair. We will sleep here."
They finished their dinner and drank some water. "Would you mind if I bath first? I want to get out of these clothes as soon as possible..." Miss Jennings asked her. Eleanor considered it; even if wet, her pants and blouse were a little more warm than the Brit's nightgown, so she nodded.
"Go ahead." With that, she gave Miss Jennings her back. After a few minutes in which only the sound of the water echoed through the tent, Eleanor found enough courage to break the silence. "Miss Jennings..." The sound of water stopped shortly.
"Yes?" Answered the other woman, impatience laced in her voice.
"Do you really believe the city exists?" Eleanor asked. She didn't hear the water anymore, instead the sound of clothes being unfolded reached her ears.
"I can't be sure, but I'm willing to give it a try." She answered her after a moment. "I'm decent. It's your turn now, Miss Burns." Eleanor turned around and saw the archaeologist dressed in a pretty dark green dress; not as neatly made as the ones she had seen at the port's market, lacking embroideries and such, but thought for functionality. She stood up with the clothes in her arms and went towards the bucket, which now was half empty. She placed her dress on the carpets that formed the tent's floor and, after making sure Miss Jennings had her back to her, undressed and quickly began to wash away the sand from her skin. "What about you? What made you and your brother want to go there?"
Eleanor considered which answer should she gave her. Would she laugh if she told her that they were actually hoping to find the pharaoh's treasure? "... It sounded like a great opportunity." She took the bottle and dropped the oil on her head.
"Care to share what for?" Miss Jennings asked with somehow a neutral voice.
She sighed. "Wealth, I guess... Gold..." She finished washing and, after drying herself, Eleanor quickly put on her undergarments and the dress left for her. It was dark grey, the shade of color that Mother always told her that brought out the blue of her eyes. She turned around, combing her black hair with her fingers. "You can turn around, Miss Jennings..." Said woman's back was stiff, she could tell. "I knew I shouldn't have said it..." Eleanor thought nervous.
Adele turned around, and faced her with cold eyes. Yes, she had screwed it... Without sparing her a look, the Brit took a blanket and laid down on the floor. Eleanor followed suit, keeping her distance. She felt the need of saying something, but didn't think anything could improve the situation. Her body was beginning to relax, when the voice of the other woman startled her.
"So your brother is... a treasure hunter."
Eleanor swallowed. The fire had nearly died, but the blanket kept her warm enough. "He isn't. None of us are..." She hadn't planned on saying anything else, but Miss Jennings' "hmm", full of disbelief, made her change her mind. "You know, miss, my brother actually has a job at a bank, as an accountant. We're no crooks..." She didn't add more. What for? Miss Jennings would think no better, nor would she try to understand. People like her didn't try to understand.
Adele mulled over the American's statement. She had hit a nerve, but could Miss Burns blame her? If they just wanted to take as much gold as possible, she wouldn't be part of it. For God's sake, as an archaeologist she should report people like them. All they cared for was money... "Guess that's what happens when you don't have it..." A voice inside her head told her. She swallowed. Miss Burns was a quiet woman, timid and who rarely spoke unless spoken to, yet she had the feeling that the black-haired woman was also one of those people who had a lot to tell despite her shy nature. Perhaps her first impressions of Miss Burns were wrong... Well, why not find out?
"... What about you?" She finally asked. Silence was her only response. She thought the American wasn't going to answer her, when she heard her quiet response.
"What about me?" Adele couldn't help but roll her eyes. The fire was gone now, only the embers were left.
"Do you have a job too, Miss Burns?"
"I do... Are you going to judge me because of it?" She asked, sounding genuinely curious.
That made Adele frown. "Why would I?"
She heard Miss Burns' sigh. "Well, because. Studying and working aren't considered precisely the Bee's Knees... Besides, is what all members of upper class have always done." Eleanor mumbled.
"... If that's so, Miss Burns, it actually makes my opinion of you more positive." The archaeologist answered. Adele considered adding an apology for her early attitude, but quickly decided against it.
A few minutes passed, before Eleanor spoke again. "Can you tell me about Hamunaptra? I only know it's a lost city, a legend, in which supposedly a pharaoh dug in his wealth..."
This time, Adele doubted. "There's an academic war of sorts between scholars. Some firmly deny its existence, opposed to those who believe that the city could have actually existed. Clearly, my peers and I are on that side." She finally said. "Historically, there are sources which confirm that during the Second Intermediate Period, the pharaohs of the sixteenth dynasty ordered the construction of a city to guard the royal treasures which the pharaohs would need in the underworld; by the way, that's also why it's called the City of the Dead. However, that's all the official data known. The rest of information comes from other archaeologists' interpretations, and the myths and legends made up by the locals to attract tourism." She took care of avoid mentioning that the map Jonathan had found verified that the city was real, and probably housed not only Seti I's fortune, but also the riches of most pharaohs of the dynasties of the New Kingdom.
"...Thank you." Eleanor said eventually. Even though they couldn't see each other, Adele moved her head towards Eleanor's voice, trying to look at the woman. She could only catch sight of the American's silhouette, lying on her back. "I... I needed to know, if we stand a chance."
That made Adele gulp; not even less than twenty-four hours ago, she had said something very similar to Mr. O'Connell. Flapper or not, perhaps they were more similar than she first ever thought. "You're welcome." The Brit answered smoothly. "Get some rest, Miss Burns, you heard your brother." With that, she laid on her side, giving her back to the American. She didn't like feeling speechless, nor contrite, no matter how small her guilt was.
Ahmed walked with ease among the shadows, his small feet making no sound. Years ago, he had mastered the art of silence; Cairo streets taught you that much if you were to survive. He had followed the big group of foreigners even before the flames had consumed the boat. He had seen the man and the lady with the Egyptian men at port, looking through the market's stalls. They had to be rich, how else would they have so many people working for them? His sensitive ear caught glimpse of a seller talking with his wife. Apparently the foreigners weren't English or French; they had come from across the ocean, from America. He had heard of that country before, especially after the Great War. It was the land of opportunities, of new riches; that just uplifted his thoughts regarding the weight of those Yanks' pockets. So he had sneaked among the boat's passengers, not really giving much thought about where were they going; the simple idea of getting hold of a good handful of coins completely shutting any common sense he had learned in the streets. So engrossed was he with the promise of money, that he hadn't expected one of the servers to find him in the kitchen, getting a handful of fried chicken from the dishes. But then, that lady had come to his aid.
He briefly thought about respecting her not stealing from her, but quickly opted for following his original plan, telling himself that he needed whatever money she owned more than her or her husband and friends. Ahmed hadn't seen how had started the fire, but he'd immediately jumped, swimming to shore and not bothering to see if he would be in the same side of the Nile as his prey. He blessed Allah for his luck, seeing that most people had come in the same direction, including the Americans. After following them, he had stopped to observe in which tent would sleep each foreigner. The lady would sleep with another woman, while her husband would sleep with the other men. He now walked towards the men's tent, the sand helping to soften his footsteps. He halted in front of the entrance, listening carefully. Silence ruled the air, aside from some snores. He had his arm extended, reaching for the tent's cloth, when a large hand covered his mouth and a strong arm encircled his thin waist, pressing him against someone who lift him and dragged him away from the tents. He struggled, but nothing made a difference; he was dragged into the darkness.
The next morning, when the first sunrays were barely appearing in the east, the noise of people moving and Daniels' voice woke Eleanor up. What had happened now? Miss Jennings was awake too, confused. She had recovered some color skin, although she was naturally pale, and looked quite refreshed, with her long hair dry and shiny. Even with bags under her eyes, she still looked pretty. Eleanor couldn't help but envy her a little. After exchanging a glance, they both got out of the tent. It was still a bit dark, the air a little cool too, but there was enough light to watch clearly their surroundings.
"Find those damn beasts right now!" Daniels was barking orders, beyond pissed off. Eleanor jogged up to him, Miss Jennings following not far behind.
"Dave! What's going on?" He turned to them.
"The horses, only two remain, all the rest gone! That's what!" They looked behind him towards Burns and Henderson. "Ya found any?"
Burns shook his head. "None, no hooves, nothin'."
"I spoke with the fellas that tied 'em to the post, all say they made sure the horses were well tied." Henderson added.
Daniels snorted. "Obviously they fuckin' didn't."
"Dave," Said Burns, lacking conviction. "I looked at the two horses, their leashes are strong. Maybe it's just an accident."
"Bernie," Eleanor spoke up, surprising Miss Jennings. "Think about it. If the same men tied all the horses, why did two of them remain and the rest escaped?"
In that moment, Adele couldn't take it more. "Miss Burns is right." The four Americans turned to look at her. "First the boat where two groups journeying for Hamunaptra travelled is set on fire, and now this?" She sighed, hoping her suspicions were actually wrong. "I think it's safe to say that someone doesn't want us to reach the City."
An uncomfortable silence formed among them for five long minutes before it was broken. "Then what we do?" Burns finally asked, pushing his glasses up.
"We continue..." Eleanor's small voice said quietly, instead of calm or nervous, determined. "If Miss Jennings' theory is indeed right, that means Hamunaptra is more than a myth, it is real."
After a moment, Daniels nodded. "Fine." He turned to Henderson. "Make everybody move, I'll get the guides an' we'll go buy horses an' stuff again. I'm not losin' that bet." He walked off, the other four watching after him.
Suddenly, Eleanor cleared her throat, turning her head towards her brother. "So, what bet?"
"Have you seen an English woman? Long dark hair, hazel eyes... She probably was with three other men!" Adele asked frantically the old woman in Arabic. However, she only received a shook of her veiled head.
"There was a foreigner woman along with the men you speak of, but they're no longer here. My husband saw them leave after buying Labib camels for their journey." She said, making Adele sigh. "I hope you find your friends soon, child." She added, seeing the faintly tired look of the younger woman.
"Thank you." The woman nodded, and they both parted ways. On one hand, Adele felt happy and reassured; Evy was already on her way to Hamunaptra, and hopefully they would win the bet. "That's if they arrive before the Cowbell Troop" She couldn't help but think sarcastically as the loud voices of Mr. Burns and Mr. Daniels echoed all over the market as they argued with Labib. But where was the third one...? A loud neigh at her back startled her, making her spin around with a hand over her heart. "Why, speak of the devil..."
"Sorry," The blonde man said. However, the faint rising of the corner of his mouth told her he wasn't sorry in the least. "Thought ya wouldn't be scared..." He was wearing again his cowboy hat and kerchief, completing his outfit. Something that suspiciously smelt like tobacco was the final touch on that picture.
"I assure you, Mr. Henderson, it takes more than just that loud mouth of yours to scare me." She said, looking into his blue eyes and earning a full smirk from the handsome American. The white horse he was holding abruptly lifted its head, making her take a step back.
He chuckled. "A horse then?"
She pursed her lips. "What do you want, Mr. Henderson?"
"Just wanted to inform ya, one a' the fellas said your friends already left. Maybe ya'll be able to meet 'em in Hamunaptra."
"I already found out that much on my own, thank you." She was about to turn away, ready to search for Miss Burns, when he spoke again.
"Can I ask somethin'?" He didn't wait for a reply. "Whatever I've done to make ya think so badly a' me?"
She froze... Alright, that was unexpected. Nevertheless, Adele wasn't one to back off. "Let's say oil and water don't mix well, sir... Don't take it too personally." She added half-heartedly. They kept a staring contest, none of them willing to give up. She barely caught glimpse of the man's disappointment, realizing her words had been a little too gratuitous. But she had been honest, and hadn't said anything untrue, had she? She was a sensible, serious high-class, British archaeologist. Even if handsome, he was a loud, rogue-looking middle-class, American cowboy. Where she fancied history, wine and long dresses, he favored animals, hard liquor and shameless flirt. Being realistic, what hopes did they have of actually forming something steady between them? She had already met men like him. Did he think she would accept to be just another conquest?
With a more serious expression and a tight smile, he chuckled again. "Quite spirited, uh?" She looked at him, slightly confused. After that, he still tried to make the most of their encounter? "Anyway, we're leavin' now, figured out ya'd prefer ride with Nellie. She's over there." He pointed to his left. She followed his extended, tanned arm, her eyes coming across the image of the American woman tightening her black horse's girth. She looked back to Mr. Henderson, only to find he had already walked away. There it was her remorse again, making a small appearance before she cleared her thoughts. She walked towards Miss Burns, keeping her distance with the animal she now owned. The American looked up to her.
"Miss Jennings," She held the horse's reins.
"I thought I could ride with you until we reach Hamunaptra, seeing that Mr. Daniels refuses to buy a horse for me."
Eleanor frowned. "Why does he?"
Adele couldn't help but roll her eyes. "When I asked him myself, he told me he wouldn't waste any more money than necessary, seeing that I would leave you as soon as we meet with my friends." She softened Mr. Daniels' words.
"Oh... Alright then." With surprising ease, and having in mind that she was wearing a dress, Miss Burns easily made herself comfortable atop of her stallion. She offered the Brit her hand, which Adele gracefully ignored, quickly copying the other woman and climbing behind her. "I didn't think you'd be so skilled with a horse."
"I may not be fond of animals, Miss Burns, but I've been a horsewoman since I was eight." She answered, placing her hands at her sides. Eleanor gazed down at the gesture before looking ahead. "It's quite surprising to see you're gifted with horse riding, though."
The American didn't know whether to be offended or flattered by the comment. "My father has a horse farm back in the States, breeds them for a living. Guess you could say my brother and I grew up on the saddle." Eleanor told her, glancing once more at the Brit's arms resting loosely by her legs. "You may want to hold onto me, Miss Jennings..." She said, imitating the other woman's speech with a little smirk. Right after, her two friends and her brother dug their heels on their horses' sides, instantly galloping after Mr. Gabor's camel as he led the way towards the City of the Dead. Eleanor's smirk grew as she did the same. Well enough, she heard the archaeologist's surprised yelp, feeling at once the other woman's thin arms around her waist. Eleanor had watched from afar that Howard's attempts at reconciliation had been a failure, but she had also seen how bothered her friend had looked as he got away from Miss Jennings. Even if she didn't agree with his excesive flirts, and in addition didn't understand what was that he found so fascinating in the Brit (aside from her looks), Howard Henderson was a good man deep inside, she knew that much. So that yelp and the arms holding her tightly were a little, sweet revenge for her and her cowboy friend. Eleanor smiled widely, fully enjoying the touch of the wind stroking her face and the adrenaline all over her body as her horse gained speed. Moving the reins, she positioned herself next to Henderson, his brother next to him and Daniels at the other side of the line. Together, they rode into the desert, unaware of all the eyes watching them.
She could feel it, her adventure now had truly began.
A.N/: There you go! Gosh, I had so much fun writing this XD Can't wait to get started with the next chapters! Hope you enjoyed your reading. Thanks so much everyone who has read, followed, faved and reviewed ^^
Again, I'm not sure when I'll be able to update but, as always, I'll try to do it as soon as possible.
~Se acerca el invierno
Bluenose = [: Wet blanket] A person who's a killjoy
Cake-eater = A ladies man
Choice bit of calico = A very desireable woman
Gasper = A cigarette
Mrs. Grundy = An uptight or very straight-laced individual
Bushwa! = Bullshit!
Bee's Knees = The best