Free Lorenzo and the Turncoat by Lila Guzmán Page B

“It’s for external use.”
    â€œYou’re not putting that on me.”
    â€œIt will help your sunburn. From what they tell me inside, ‘Gator Grease’ is good for just about everything.” With a surprising gentleness, he smeared a thin layer on the back of her hand. “How does that feel?”
    â€œGood.”
    He applied some to her face. “Lift your head.”
    She did.
    He applied a coat to her throat and neck.
    â€œThank you.”
    He smiled. “You are entirely welcome.”
    A young man whistling a happy tune bounded up the trading post steps. He had long blond hair and an eye patch. He wore buckskin, a bright red bandanna knotted on the side of his head, and a necklace of alligator teeth.
    Eugenie sensed she should know him.
    He glanced at her, stopped, and swiveled toward her.
    Hawthorne stiffened.
    â€œI am looking for the Clark cabin,” the stranger said, directing the remark to Eugenie. “Do you know where it is?”
    Hawthorne answered for her. “No. We are new to the area.”
    â€œ
Vraiment
?” The stranger looked surprised. “You look familiar,” he said to Eugenie. “Do I know you?”
    Hawthorne stood and placed himself between the stranger and Eugenie. “Shove off, monsieur!”
    The storekeeper stepped onto the porch. “Jean-Paul! I thought I heard your voice. Come in, my lad! Come in!”
    The stranger touched fingertips to bandanna in a mock salute. “It was a pleasure, monsieur,” he said sarcastically as he stepped inside.
    Jean-Paul. Jean-Paul. Eugenie ran the name through her mind. “Jean-Paul Dujardin!” she muttered.
    â€œDo you know that man?” Hawthorne asked.
    â€œHe’s a highwayman!” she replied curtly, trying to sound offended. “We hardly travel in the same social circle.”
    Hawthorne studied her, apparently judging her truthfulness.
    Unfortunately, it was the truth. Dujardin had once been a soldier in Lorenzo’s company but had turned outlaw after losing an eye in a duel with an irate husband. He had the morals of an alley cat, Lorenzo said, and had fathered a couple of children off Indian women at various trading posts.
    What incredible bad luck! The first person she recognized was a criminal wanted by Colonel Gálvez.

Chapter Sixteen
    Eugenie and Hawthorne traveled on.
    Shortly, a large settlement came into view. They rode past plantation after plantation. At one, they happened upon a booth where an old woman in a much-worn calico skirt, blouse, and turban sold fruits and vegetables.
    Hawthorne drew rein and twisted toward Eugenie. “We will soon be at our final destination. Select whatever you need for supper.”
    It was an atrociously hot day, and Eugenie did not feel like making anything that required a fire. With that in mind, she picked out tomatoes, cucumbers, green peppers, onions, strawberries, salad greens, and a melon.
    Hawthorne paid the bill, and they set out again.
    A few minutes later, he pointed at a town on a bluff overlooking the river. “Your new home, Madame, at least for the time being. This is New Richmond. Or, to use the French name, Baton Rouge.”
    Hope surged inside her. She could easily engineer her escape on the town’s crowded streets. To her dismay, Hawthorne veered off the main road before they reached Baton Rouge and turned down a tree-lined lane.
    Eugenie and Hawthorne rode up to a two-story house with a wide, covered verandah. Vines twined around the pillars. She looked for signs of life, but there were none. The house begged for a coat of whitewash. Weeds choked the flowerbeds.
    Hawthorne slid down from his horse and lapped the reins of their horses and the mule around the handrail.He helped Eugenie down, escorted her up the stairs, and took a key from his pocket.
    While he opened up, she scanned the area. The verandah offered a view of the Mississippi River. Like most of Baton Rouge, the house