Chapter 53
Porthos took a deep breath and looked across the valley. He rested his forearms on the split-rail fence and kicked his foot onto the bottom rail. The heavy rains had helped moisten the dry the ground. The grasses, weeds, brush, and trees moved in unison as a gentle breeze brushed their tips and forced them to bow beneath its force. He watched a flock of sparrows fly from their perch in an old oak tree and move in formation across the sky, only to turn abruptly and return to the tree. The horses looked at him, but continued to graze on sprigs of hay that remained from the morning meal. He looked over his shoulder and watched Emry wince while he walked toward him with a cane in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.
"I can't say your journey has been a blessing for you, but," Emry said, "I will say you've been a blessing for us… me, my family, and the others." He handed Porthos the bottle of wine. He motioned toward his cane. "Drink from the bottle… I didn't have an extra hand to bring any cups." He rested against the fence and smiled when his mare, heavy with a foal on the way, stepped toward him nudged his elbow for attention.
Porthos pulled off the cloth stopper and took a long pull. It felt good going down, and he didn't mind the taste. It wasn't great wine, but it was wine all the same, and given his ordeal, he was grateful to have it.
"We never had much time to talk," Emry said casually. "Are you married? Children?" He watched Porthos shake his head and take another sip of wine. "You will… when the time is right. And when you do," he looked over his shoulder to the house, "you'll realize that everything you helped fight for here — on this farm — is the same thing you'll be fighting for the rest of your life… only this time," he paused and looked at Porthos, "you'll be fighting for your own family and not someone else's." He rubbed his face, sighed slowly, and watched the afternoon sun slowly descend.
Porthos looked at the barn entry. "The men I fight with are like my brothers," he said and looked at Emry. "I'm already fighting for my family."
Emry looked him in the eyes and nodded. "How is he… how is Athos?"
Porthos rubbed a hand over his face and exhaled slowly. "Stubborn." He winced. "Anyone else might be dead."
"It must be a musketeer trait." Emry chuckled. "Those from Allier," Emry said, "wouldn't have poisoned him. They were foolish in their actions, but not malicious. One of them might have hit him over the head, but not poison." He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and said, "While you were out looking for Athos," he cleared his throat, "we discussed how to be… better protected… by being better acquainted."
Porthos nodded and said, "That sounds like a good idea." He paused, watched the mare walk to the other side of the corral and then along the side of the fence. "Good friends can make a difference… particularly when it comes to watchin' your back."
Emry opened his mouth to say something but turned suddenly when he heard the front door open and Clorette stepped from the home.
"Clorette!" Eve shouted. She grabbed Hope's shoulder to keep her from following. "The musketeer is handling it."
Millie chuckled and stepped out of the way when Lilith swiped a hand at her.
Clorette waved her off. "There is nothing wrong with a quick check, Eve." She grabbed her skirts when she stepped off the porch and walked across the yard. "I might be able to help and I forgot to give him the message."
"The Musketeer Aramis is seeing to him and the message can wait—"
"Madame Clorette Buniox," Emry shook his head with a sigh. He turned back toward the corral and reached for the bottle of wine, and took a drink. "She's like a stone wall — hard to move and challenging to cross..." He exhaled and muttered, "And not a single gate in sight."
Porthos chuckled and said, "It makes me wonder who built 'er to be that way."
Emry paused with a frown. "Never quite thought about it that way." He suddenly winced. "Her husband was an arse."
"She gave me a blouse," Porthos said sadly.
Emry looked at him in awe. He handed Porthos the wine and said, "I guess it pays to be a King's Musketeer."
Porthos nodded and said, "An' 'andsome." He watched the horses swish their tails and search the ground for leaves and springs of hay. "Sometimes it's good… other times… not so much," he whispered. He moved his foot to the ground. "I should go back." He slapped the top rail with the flat of his hand. "Thank you for the wine."
"You're welcome to stay as long as you need," Emry said. "You have all been through enough, and it's the least me and my family can do for you." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You musketeers helped save this community and by the looks of you… none of you are fit to ride all the way to Paris."
Porthos raised his hand in thanks and returned to the barn. Emry leaned against the fence, took another drink of wine, and watched his mare.