Destiny's Captive by Beverly Jenkins Page B

you ever wanted to live elsewhere, Pilar?”
    Somewhere in the distance came the sound of drumming and the syncopated rhythms put a lift in her spirit and step. “Not really. Why?”
    â€œThinking about the stories Mama used to tell about all the beautiful places she visited growing up. It would be nice to see at least one of those places before I die.”
    Born in Seville, their mother, Desa, was the daughter of a high-ranking Spanish diplomat. She’d been disowned for marrying their father. “I suppose.”
    â€œI’m twenty-three years old, Pilar, and the only place I’ve ever seen is—here. Is it wrong to want to be elsewhere with maybe a good husband and live in a nice house with nice things?”
    â€œNo, ’Neta. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
    Pilar didn’t hold her sister’s dreams against her, because who wouldn’t want to get away from the poverty that was their reality? But because she knew it was only a dream, she didn’t long for it. Instead, she longed for changes in their world so that her younger cousins might attend school and learn to excel at something besides thievery. Hoping they could get an education was one of the many reasons she supported General Maceo and the rebels in their quest to gain independence from Spain. As it stood now, only the children of the wealthy were allowed to study formally. People like her family and her neighbors, no matter their color, weren’t offered the opportunity because of their station in life. And times were changing. With the growing presence of the soldiers in cities like Havana and Santiago, it was more difficult to make a living outside the law. The wealthy had begun hiring armed men to keep their homes safe, thus making it nearly impossible to slip in under darkness and slip out again with valuables that might help put food on the table for a few days. Doneta was an outstanding artist and in times past, her forgeries of the Old Masters sold to gullible art collectors brought in enough gold to keep their farm afloat for months, but the paintings took time and couldn’t be rushed, so in the meantime other avenues had to be pursued to fill the coffers. With the passing away of their father’s old fences and smugglers, those avenues were just about dry. Not to mention the Banderas name was now well known to the police. The secrecy that had shrouded their activities for decades was shattered last month when their cousin Juan, the adolescent son of one of her late uncles, was apprehended while trying to steal a prized statue from one of the city’s museums, of all places. Having exhibited more bravado than brains his entire life, he’d done no planning beforehand, as far as Pilar knew, and as a result had been sentenced to ten years in a prison outside of Havana, leaving behind his three sisters and heartbroken mother, Ria. Now, everywhere they went, they were watched. Like now. There was a policeman about a half block behind them. He seemed to be just ambling through the streets, but at the last corner, Pilar stopped and looked back. When he met her eyes, he hastily glanced away and crossed the street. He trailed them still. “We’re being followed.”
    â€œI know,” her sister replied. “Maybe we should go over and ask him if he wants to buy our eggs.”
    Frustrated, they kept walking, but his looming presence was a real problem. Going to the market had been a cover for the true reason they’d come into town. Pilar and Tomas had split the gold cuff links taken from Noah Yates and it had been her plan to slip into the home of an old friend of the family who specialized in buying purloined items and leave again with their value in coin, but with the policeman dogging their steps, that was now impossible. One did not bring the police to a friend’s door. Her mother needed the money, had been counting on it really in order to pay the ever-increasing