Once a Soldier (Rogues Redeemed) by Mary Jo Putney

will have survived, but it will be a huge job. Once again, we need laborers and the ability to pay them.”
    “If people run out of wine, I’m sure you’d get many volunteers to clear the debris, but there are other priorities,” he agreed. “What is most important?”
    Between them, they’d polished off all the food and half the bottle of wine. Athena shook out the cloths, wiped the knife blade clean, and returned everything but the wine and wineglasses to her saddlebag.
    “The answer to that depends on what kind of help is available,” she replied. “Now that you’ve surveyed the valley, what do you think is doable? Despite your Colonel Duval, I have trouble believing that the British government that never gave Lord Wellington sufficient resources to fight a war will contribute anything to help a tiny country most Britons have never heard of.” Her mouth twisted. “Even if they want to help, heaven only knows how long it would take for effective aid to arrive.”
    “I have some ideas,” Will said, unperturbed by her pessimism. “An old school friend of mine, Justin Ballard, lives in Porto. He runs his family’s wine-shipping business and I think he’d be willing to help you out.”
    “Ballard Port, the Scottish company?” she asked, surprised. “Everyone has heard of them.”
    “His family has been in the business for several generations,” Will said. “The port business has been badly disrupted by so much war in the region, and it’s been frustrating for Ballard because he hasn’t enough to do. I’m sure he’d be happy to send grape vine cuttings and the men to plant them, and he could do it quickly.”
    “That would be wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I’m sure it would even be the right varieties of grapes. But who would pay for it?”
    “I will,” he said calmly.
    She gasped. “As you observed earlier, supporting a whole country is a very expensive proposition.”
    He shrugged. “I’m comfortably off and I haven’t had much chance to spend money while in the army. I can afford to pay for some practical help for San Gabriel.”
    He was completely serious, she saw. “I don’t know when, if ever, the royal treasury will be able to repay you,” she said uncertainly.
    “I’m too cautious to lend anything I can’t afford to lose, so I don’t. This is a gift to a gallant country.” Seeing her doubtful expression, he grinned. “Christian charity?”
    She took a deep breath. “I have no official authority here, but nonetheless, on behalf of San Gabriel, I accept! How long do you think it will take to contact Mr. Ballard and get a response?”
    “Perhaps a week? Porto is much closer than Toulouse and I suspect there are many men in the city who are eager for work. Plus, Justin is very efficient.” Will’s brow furrowed. “I just had another thought. Does your river run down into the Douro? I’m no expert, but to me the wine tastes very like the expensive wines from the upper Douro.”
    “Yes, the San Gabriel River is a tributary of the Douro and the soil and climate here are much the same.”
    “Have the local wines ever been sent down to Porto for export? When the vineyards are restored, that could be profitable if transportation is practical.”
    “The river isn’t navigable and the land route over the mountains into Portugal is too difficult for large-scale shipping. Gabrileño wine is consumed locally or sent east into Spain.” She split the last of the wine between them, corked the bottle, and stashed it in her saddlebag. “It’s a pity there’s no reasonable transportation. Our wines keep well so they’d be ideal for export. On good years, there are sizable surpluses so the vintners add brandy to the excess and it keeps even longer.”
    “Could the river channel be improved to become navigable?” Will asked. “It used to be impossible to sail up the Douro farther than the Cachão da Valeira Gorge, but the waterfall and overhangs were blasted open twenty years ago