Dark Angel by Tracy Grant

companion. "Give us an hour now, and we'll be snug for the night."
    "More likely two," Adam called back.
    Hawkins made a face. "Ah, the man never could tell time. It's an hour, I say, and we'll be snug and dry."
    Emily was faring better than the others under Hawkins's cloak, but even she had not escaped the rain.
    Caroline turned round to look at Hawkins. "You're an eternal optimist. Where, pray tell, are we to dry our clothes?"
    "The Lord will provide, Mrs. Rawley. And if He fails, I'll take a hand myself."
    Caroline laughed. Since their fording of the river her spirits seemed to have lightened and she sounded more like the girl Adam remembered. She had never been a timid child and she could never resist a dare. Adam felt his own spirits improve. Caroline might have grown up, but she was still Caroline.
    The rain ceased to be an intrusion and became an integral part of their journey. It disappeared into the hard ground, barely impeding their pace. The land was flat, with little to give variety to the yellow earth or to mark the distance they had come, save the growing size of the hills before them.
    When they reached the base of the hills they entered a thick scrub of spiny bushes, rosemary and thyme, not yet in bloom, and gorse and stunted oak. The scrub vanished as they climbed the rocky hills, coming at last to a narrow path that indicated the way was traveled.
    Hawkins dismounted and handed Emily to Adam's care. "Hold on, I'll see what I can find."
    "Where are you going?" Emily asked from the shelter of Adam's arms.
    Hawkins grinned. "To provide. The Lord seems to be busy."
    They waited perhaps a quarter of an hour. The rain slackened, then stopped altogether. The clouds passed, but the sky was growing dark. They would have to stop soon in any case and there was scarcely room, between the rocks that rose on either side of the path, for both the animals and themselves to spend the night. Emily settled herself more comfortably against Adam. She was so small, so vulnerable, yet she trusted the world and bore the joy that had been her mother's. But the child was tired, and Caroline, from her silence, must be weary too.
    Hawkins returned with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "Not far now," he said. "Shelter. I've found a cave."
    Adam breathed a prayer of thanks. They would be dry at least. He jerked the mule to attention, motioned Caroline to follow Hawkins, and set off after her. "A cave," Emily said to herself, "a cave, we're going to live in a cave." Ten minutes later they drew up before it and she sat forward with wide-open eyes. "It's got a door. It's like a house."
    "Locked, I suspect," Adam muttered.
    "I'll manage." Hawkins was on his knees before the keyhole. He inserted his knife, then discarded it and pulled out a piece of metal shaped like a long flat nail from one of the capacious pockets in his coat.
    Caroline watched him with surprise. "Is there nothing you can't do, Hawkins?"
    Hawkins continued his assault on the door. Then he swung it outward and looked back at her. "I promised Emily, you see."
    Caroline grinned. She dismounted and approached the door, then drew back in apparent alarm.
    "I know," Hawkins said. "It takes some getting used to."
    Adam brought Emily to the door. "It's a wine cave," he said as she wrinkled her nose at the pungent odor. "The hills are riddled with them. The doors are intended to keep people out, but I think we're entitled to borrow it for the night."
    "Not the best vintage, perhaps," Hawkins said, inhaling the sour smell with evident pleasure, "but not the worst either. I wouldn't mind sampling the lot."
    "That would be stealing," Emily said.
    "Not if we leave them proper payment. Which we will. We have coins, but naught to drink."
    Caroline had removed her sodden cloak and was now pulling her skirt up between her legs. "I'll look for firewood," she said. "Emily, you help too."
    There was scant wood to be found, but enough. By the time Adam and Hawkins had unsaddled the horses and