In blissful peace, we continued to enjoy our honeymoon, but of course we were not idle. Over the next couple of days, Mr Ambrose and I discussed in detail what we might do in case the Spaniards went on counterattack. And if most of those discussions happened to occur in bed, with a distinct lack of clothing...

Well, clothes were expensive. As a new wife, I had to help my dear hubby save money, hadn't I?

Even when we were not exercising in the fresh air of the bedroom, I was keeping myself busy. I was not exactly a brilliant cook, and years of boiled potatoes in my uncle's house had not really turned me into a gourmet of gastronomical proportions, but when I saw the men and women coming out of the mine, exhausted after a hard day's work, I simply couldn't stop myself. I knew all too well what it was like to come home from work sweaty and exhausted, driven all day by a boss who was a merciless, slave-driving son of a b—

"What are you thinking about, Mrs Ambrose?" a voice came from behind me.

I cleared my throat. "Ehem. Nothing, really, hubby, dear. I...was just thinking about how much I love you."

Two familiar, possessive arms snaked around me pulling me close. "Is that so?"

Marriage 101: when in doubt, distract.

"You know it is." Purring, I turned around within the grasp of his arms, standing up on my tiptoes to place a kiss on the hard angles of his jaw.

"So...you were thinking of how much you love me while cooking potato and onion stew?"

Drat!

"Onions can be very romantic?" I hedged, reaching over to stir the pot once or twice. "I've heard of them moving people to tears."

"Ah." He nodded. "That does make sense."

I blinked. "It does?"

"Indeed. Now I know what to give you for our first anniversary."

Double drat!

"Um...perhaps we can re-discuss this at a later date?"

"I don't think that will be necessary."

"Of course you don't."

Mentally, I made a note to keep my big mouth shut around certain significant dates. With any luck, I would say "Crap!" around my next anniversary, and he would give me a present of...

Well, the less said the better.

With another peck on Mr Ambrose's cheek, I quickly turned back towards the ginormous steaming pot on the stove and once more started stirring. Ten minutes later, I stepped out of the house with a large pot in my arms. Starting down the meandering forest path, I soon stepped out from between the trees, panting under the weight of the steaming monstrosity.

"Dinner, everyone!" I yelled.

Instantly, Karim came racing forward, nearly stumbling over his feet in his rush to reach me. Before I could blink, he tried to grab the entire pot of stew.

"Err...hungry, much?"

"Give me that," he harrumphed, tugging the massive kettle out of my hands. "I am under orders that you are not to carry heavy things!"

"Orders? From whom? And why?"

"Ehem..." His gaze flicked to my stomach, before he suddenly showed distinct interest in the songbirds up in the trees. "From, um...someone. And the reason is...something."

I stared at him, meaningfully, raising an eyebrow.

"Um...I'm really, really hungry?" he tried a second time, hugging the pot.

"Well..." I eyed him up and down. "I guess you somehow had to grow this big."

He cleared his throat. "Yes, um, quite right. Let's go eat." And he bustled off towards the tables and benches that I'd ordered to be set up.

"Everyone!" I called out, banging on a pan with a ladle. "Gather round! Gather round!"

The dusty, grimy figures of the new miners approached, their eyes lighting up as they caught a whiff of the smell. "What be this, Ma'am?"

"Dinner," I grinned. "Courtesy of Mr Rikkard Ambrose."

"Really?" the man beamed. "Mr Ambrose be so generous!"

"Indeed," came a voice from behind me. "Sometimes even I am surprised by how generous I am."

Oh, blast.

"Ehem...yes, you are." Beaming, I turned towards Mr Ambrose, quickly hugging him, making sure to press his arms to his sides, so I was safe from any counterattack. "My generosity yesterday must have inspired you. I'm so proud of you, my darling arm candy!"

I would have to set up a soup kitchen in town later, just to make certain everyone else knew how marvellously generous he was.

"Oh? So you are proud of me, are you?" my dear husband enquired, his eyes glittering coolly at the steaming pot in a way that made me think he did not like onions and potatoes. "Do you wish me to state my current feelings regarding you? Or should I refrain?"

"Um...perhaps you can tell me later." Keeping hold of one arm, I dragged him over to the table, intent on stuffing his mouth with a stew gag as soon as possible. "Now let's have dinner, shall we, darling?"

"Why don't you first explain how three ten-dollar notes in my wallet were replaced by a grocer's bill for vegetables?"

"Waiter!" I waved at a nearby turban towering over a massive pot. "Waiter, two portions of stew over here, pronto!"

Grumpily, a certain bodyguard filled and handed over two bowls full of stew. "Here!"

I grinned. "Why, thank you, garçon."

"If you call me that again," he informed me, "The garçon shall serve you a whole onion straight down your throat."

I considered this for a moment—then bowed politely. "Oh brave and gracious bodyguard, thank you for offering me my food."

I could always call him garçon again next time we were in France. Ha! He wouldn't be able to complain then, would he?

It didn't take long for the stew to be distributed. Soon, we were all happily sitting around a makeshift table, chatting and eating. Well...eating, anyway. Not all of us were looking happy, or seemed to be inclined to chat. But then again...

Leaning over towards Mr Rikkard Ambrose, I clutched his arm and cuddled into his side. Nobody ever said being chatty was necessary for a spiffing husband, right?

I smirked.

Maybe I'd grab his wallet later and buy enough onion stew for the whole town. That ought to motivate my dear hubby to become more...vocal.

Later that night, when the mine workers had long left the table and were snoring in their sheds, my husband and I were still sitting on the bench, watching the romantic sunset through the scattered trees. I felt especially lucky that the sunset tonight was brilliant, bright and beautifully golden. It was probably only due to the sun's current uncanny resemblance to a big, shiny, golden coin that Mr Ambrose was still sitting beside me, watching avidly.

"So..." I whispered, hugging my precious block of stone close to me. "We've been waiting for a while now, haven't we?"

"Indeed."

"Those dagos don't seem to want to get a move on. What should we do if they simply continue to sit on their butts without doing anything?"

For a moment, there was nothing but silence as Mr Ambrose gazed into the distance, thinking deeply.

"Well..."

"Yes?"

"I think what we should do next is..."

"Yes?"

"...is go back into the house, enter the bedroom and—"

I elbowed him in the ribs. "Not that! I meant what should we do about those bloody Spaniards!"

"Indeed?" he said as if it came as an actual surprise to him.

"Don't look so innocent! I know you! I know you aren't just going to sit back and stay on the defensive."

"Indeed?"

"Oh yes, indeed, Sir! Now spill!"

"Do I really have to?" Eyes narrowing infinitesimally, he gazed down at me. If I didn't know the man, I would have thought there was a sparkle of humour flashing in his eyes. Of course, the sparkle was as cold as an iceberg, but still! "Why don't you figure it out? You're my wife. The woman smart enough to marry me."

I felt warmth surge up inside of me. Darn! Did he actually just manage to make me feel proud for being intelligent enough to get hitched to him?

Apparently he did. And it was still working! Blast him!

And I couldn't even really be angry with him, because I was too busy trying to figure out the answer!

"Hmm..." I thought about it. Really, truly thought about it. What would the Spaniards do next? How should we react? "They gathered thugs..."

"Indeed they did."

"But...they didn't just gather thugs. They bought the sheriff."

"Indeed."

"And even brought in a more competent and dangerous one."

"Indeed."

"And if you say 'indeed' one more time, you shall be severely tortured tonight."

"Indeed."

I smirked. Later that night was going to be great fun. For now, though...

I stroked my chin, deep in thought. Then the answer hit me!

"They'll try and pull off a hustle!" My eyes widened. "And they're going to try and make it seem legit! That's why they're using the sheriff in the first place. They're trying to find some excuse, some legal justification that will mean they can drive us off our land and make it seem as if it was never ours in the first place."

This time, he didn't say a thing. But that golden gleam in his eyes suddenly shone with pride.

I felt the corners of my mouth twitch.

"Why are you grinning, Mrs Ambrose?"

"Well...they're trying to use legal means to beat us, aren't they?"

"They are."

"They're going to try and use the law against us."

"Indeed."

"After they've already met your solicitors."

"Indeed."

"They're bloody nuts."

"Indeed."

The glint in Mr Ambrose's eyes intensified. Together, we gazed at the big golden coin in the distance, promising millions of dollars in damages that would soon flow into Mr Rikkard Ambrose's pocket. Sunsets were so romantic, weren't they?

"So..." Snuggling up against my hubby, I enjoyed the beauty of nature and contemplated the doom of our enemies. "Once they make their move, what kind of surprise will we have prepared for them?"

Mr Ambrose's eyes glittered dangerously in the sunset. "Well...I do have an idea for that..."

***

"Alguacil. Is everysing prepared?"

Gallagher glanced up from the revolver he was polishing, eyes narrowing. "I told you not to call me that."

De Ravera sneered. "I pay you. I own you. I can call you anysing I want, alguacil."

With a last swipe, the sheriff finished polishing his weapon. Snapping shut the chamber, he whirled it as if playing Russian roulette. Only...there wasn't just one bullet. There were six. And the barrel was pointed straight at De Ravera.

"You were sayin'?"

De Ravera swallowed.

"I...would like to know if it is time, Sheriff. Are you ready?"

Rising to his feet, Gallagher walked over to the window, pushing aside the blinds. Outside, in the darkness of the night, massive shapes were moving through the shadows. Thudding, shuffling and snorting rose from the gloomy street. Then came pounding of hooves, as several riders with torches raced closer from all around, coming to a stop under the window, signalling their leader.

"Yeah," he said, cocking his pistol with a click. "We are."

***

I was woken by a loud banging. And not the kind a newlywed wife on her honeymoon would appreciate, either.

"Mr Ambrose! Mr Ambrose, wake up!"

Blinking, I pulled my head out from under my pillow—and was met with a very surprising sight.

"You're not up and working yet!" I observed.

"Very perceptive, Mrs Ambrose." My dear (and very, very naked) husband sent me a look from where he was lying in bed beside me. "Right now, however, I am more interested in why one of my miners is trying to break the front door down."

"So am I, I must admit." I sat up, purposefully letting the blanket slip to provide a peek at certain private zones of mine. "Because if he were actually to succeed in breaking the door down and looked inside..."

I had never seen Mr Rikkard Ambrose move so fast. And, considering he always was moving twice the distance anyone else did in half the precious time, this was saying something. Reaching the other end of the room, he grabbed the tablecloth off a side table, flung it through the air and—

"Mmmph! Ggnnk!"

"Do your best table imitation, Mrs Ambrose. Do not leave this room before having dressed. I'll be back in a moment."

Having a loving husband was such a wonderful thing, wasn't it?

"Enter!" I heard from down the corridor. A moment later, I heard the creak of the front door opening. Quickly, I tossed the tablecloth aside and slipped into my dress. Or at least tried to. I frowned.

Hm...was I getting more...well-padded?

Nah.

Tugging the dress up with determination, I pulled on a blouse, tugged my comb through my stubborn hair once, twice, thrice, and then rushed over to the hallway, from where hushed muttering was coming.

"...all over the place, Sir! Trampling everything down! You gotta come now!"

"And the guards?"

"Holding back for now. We no wanna do anything. We no wanna make you look guilty, if this be trap for you."

"Adequate."

"What's up?" I demanded, stepping into the corridor, to see Mr Ambrose standing at the door, dressed in trousers and a deliciously ruffled, half-open shirt. There was also some unimportant non-husbandly person standing in the doorway.

"Quite a lot, apparently." Buttoning up his shirt—Spoilsport!—Mr Ambrose grabbed a tailcoat off the hanger and threw it over his shoulders. "I'm going to take a look."

He marched out the door, down the porch and into the forest—but ten feet or so down the forest path he stopped, as he noticed the footsteps behind him.

"I said I am going. As in me. Alone."

"Yes, I heard you speaking." Catching up, I patted him on the shoulder. "And you know what? It's true what you sometimes tell me: silence is golden."

"It is going to be dangerous!"

"You don't say, Sir?"

"I. Mean. It." Dark eyes blazing, Mr Ambrose sent a glare my way. "Dangerous."

One corner of my mouth quirked up. "And, of course, this would be the very first time the two of us go into a dangerous situation together. It's not like we haven't done this, oh, about...three dozen times before, right?"

"Listen to me!" Whirling around, he grabbed hold of me by both arms. And, by the looks of it, not because he was itching for some fun times. "This is not like before! We cannot just go haring off on some asinine adventure! This isn't just about you and me anymore! You—"

He abruptly broke off.

I blinked up at him, confused. "Me? What about me?"

"Ehem. Well..."

"And what do you mean 'It's not just about you and me anymore'? Who else is it supposed to be about?"

Mr Rikkard Ambrose's eyes were suddenly flitting from left to right. He suddenly looked as if he were faced with the biggest bill since Satan renovated hell. And was that...panic I saw in his eyes?

What the heck was going on?

"Who?" I demanded. "If not you and me, who else is there?"

His gaze flickered downwards.

"Karim!" he exclaimed. "We have to make sure nothing happens to Karim!"

I stared.

He stared back. Stoney. Expressionless. Absolutely serious.

"Um...all right." I nodded. Because either he was being completely serious, or...or he was hiding something. Something big.

"Ehem. Well. Glad you understand. Now, go and, ehem...protect Karim.

With a last, abrupt nod, Mr Ambrose whirled around and strode down the forest path. Soon, he stepped out from between the trees, into the open, and then entered the mine.

Want to know how I knew that?

"You are still following," Mr Ambrose squeezed out between clenched teeth.

"Indeed I am," I said, sweetly.

"Why?" Growling, he came to a stop, whirling to face me.

Stepping forward, I placed a hand on his chest. "I am your wife," I answered simply. "You are my husband."

He opened his mouth...then shut it again. There was silence.

I grinned and, standing on my tiptoes, pressed a kiss onto his cheek. "That's the Rikkard Ambrose I know and love."

And, before he could do or say a thing, I marched off down the tunnel. One moment passed by, two, three—

Footsteps rushed up behind me.

My grin widened.

"You," Mr Rikkard Ambrose told me, "are the most stubborn, bull-headed woman I have ever met."

My grin only widened even more. "And you decided to marry me."

He had no answer to that.

But I did notice that, as we walked, his hand slipped into mine. I held him tightly. Together, we marched forwards, into the darkness. We marched and marched, until...

Rrrumble...!

I froze.

"Did you hear that?"

"Unfortunately."

I started forward again. Only, this time, I was moving twice as fast. Mostly due to Mr Ambrose, who was moving thrice as fast, dragging me behind him, his long strides eating up the ground. As fast as we could, we rushed forwards.

Then, we felt it. We felt the earth tremble.

"What is that?" I demanded.

"I have no idea," Mr Ambrose said, stepping protectively in front of me, eyes focused on the glimmer of light from the distant exit. "But I have a feeling we're going to find out soon."

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My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

No time for an author's note today! We're heaving constant thunderstorms over here, and I have to quickly get this chapter out before disconnecting my PC, in the hope of not having my computer (and myself) fried by lightning! ;-)

Yours Truly

(an electrified) Sir Rob