"Would you like some peach? It is the first of the season and very fine." He pierced a slice of fruit with the tip of his knife, then gracefully offered the tidbit to Ross. "For the benefit of my health, I decided to leave my native land. I made the pilgrimage to Mecca, visited Constantinople and Teheran, and saw much of the world. Eventually I took a wife and settled here in Serevan, which was a thriving community then. Then Allah the merciful, who works in mysterious ways, withdrew his blessings. There were plagues and drought and Turkoman raids. The village was dying until Gul-i Sarahi came. It was she who put the heart and health and strength back in Serevan."
Ross accepted the peach slice. "She is a remarkable woman."
"Aye, she is." Saleh's hands stilled, his eyes becoming distant. "And it was not only the village that was dying. When Gul-i Sarahi first came, my only son, Ramin, lay near death from fever. She gave him English medicine and nursed him with her own hands until the fever passed. She said it was the grace of Allah that healed the lad, not her, but my wife and I knew Allah had sent her." Returning to the present, he offered Ross another piece of peach. "And so I will go with her to Bokhara."
Ross refused the fruit, thinking that Saleh would be loyal to Juliet, if not necessarily her husband. "You know the city and its ways. What do you think of our chances for success?"
The Uzbek shrugged. "It will be difficult. Crossing the Kara Kum desert is very dangerous now, for the Turkomans recently killed the governor that the Amir of Khiva had put over them. The Turkoman tribes have split, some for Khiva, some for Bokhara, many only for themselves. If we survive the crossing of the desert, we shall likely find that your British officer is dead. Even if he lives, the amir will not release him. But with Allah's mercy, it should be possible to learn the officer's fate and return here safely." He sighed. "And then, I fear, you shall take our desert flower away from us."
Instantly wary, Ross said, "Why would I do that?"
"Are you not her husband?"
Surprised that Juliet had told Saleh, Ross replied, "Under English law only. There is no true marriage between us. Serevan is the home she has chosen, and here, I am sure, she will stay."
Saleh regarded the other man shrewdly but said nothing. He had wondered what response his statement would elicit. The way the English lord had blanked his face and voice was interesting, most interesting. Gul-i Sarahi and her handsome husband might deny that there was anything between them, but their reactions said otherwise.
The English lord continued, "Though I think that I need not say this, I will anyhow. The woman I knew as Juliet Cameron was headstrong and brave to the point of madness. I trust that you will watch over her, and use your influence to prevent her from throwing her life away unnecessarily?"
More and more interesting, Saleh thought. "You are correct that you need not ask. I will do whatever I can to protect her. And after her, you." With a secret smile, he poured more tea. He had always thought that Gul-i Sarahi should have a man. It appeared that she did, one that was well worth keeping.
* * *
After taking care of the day's most pressing tasks, Juliet decided to use the discipline of target shooting to calm her tightly strung nerves. A brisk walk brought her to the deep ravine she and her men used for rifle practice. It was an excellent natural range, for the configuration of the hills muffled sound to the point where the shots could hardly be heard in the nearby fortress and village.
She pinned palm-size green leaves to the earthen embankment for targets, then began shooting. For the next half-hour Juliet used ammunition extravagantly, rationalizing that the dangerous journey ahead required her marksmanship to be at its best.
Yet in spite of her concentration and the distorted echoes of rifle fire, she was instantly aware when someone began a soft-footed descent of the steep path behind her. Just as quickly, she identified who it was, both from the gait and the subtly different sound of European-made boots on stone and gravel.
Knowing that Ross was coming made the back of her neck prickle with self-consciousness. Since she had no idea what to say to him today, she continued firing until she had discharged the handful of cartridges she had been holding. By the time she finished, half of her leaf target had been ripped away.
As a cloud of dust rose from the point of impact, Ross said from behind her, "Impressive. I don't believe I've ever seen anyone shoot so quickly without losing accuracy."
"This breechloader makes speed easy." Juliet gratefully accepted the neutral topic. As she turned and handed Ross the rifle, she remembered that one of the things she had always liked about her husband was his calm acceptance of her expertise at traditionally "male" skills. Most men acted as if her riding and shooting were a personal attack on their cherished masculinity.