One Man's War. Lindsay McKenna

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СКАЧАТЬ do you mean, look at me? What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?” he snapped irritably.

      “It’s obvious you don’t respect the Vietnamese people or me, Captain. Yet, you’re dressed impeccably well under the circumstances.”

      Stung, Pete glared at her. Damn, but she had a long stride. She didn’t even walk like a woman should! He didn’t like her candor or the way she saw him, either.

      Scrambling to save what little was left of the deteriorating situation, Pete tried another angle. “My friends call me Pete.”

      “I’m not your friend, Captain.”

      “You can be, if you want. I’d like that.”

      “Oh, please! I know your type. You’d be better off chasing some poor Vietnamese bar girl who needs your money to put food in her family’s mouths. You forget: I’ve been over here for fifteen months. I’m on my second tour. There’s nothing you marines can put over on me that hasn’t been tried by the male military advisors I worked with long before you chopper jockeys landed. So, let’s put the games away. I don’t play them. Life’s too short, too important, to play games.”

      “Anyone ever tell you you’re outspoken?” Pete demanded hotly.

      “Plenty of times.”

      “And that doesn’t bother you?” he asked, incredulous.

      Tess shook her head. “Captain, I’m twenty-six years old and I’ve kicked around the Far East the last four of those years. There’s not much I haven’t seen, done or been part of. I’m not your typical American girl out of college, okay? The sooner that fact lodges in that brain of yours, the better we’ll get along.”

      Pete said nothing more as they walked back to the village. Well, he’d wanted a challenge, and Tess Ramsey was certainly all of that—and more. He thought of giving up. Obviously she could see straight through his usual routine. Then he shook his head. Any woman he’d ever wanted, he’d gotten—it was that simple. He could pursue a girl better than any of his buddies. His reputation was on the line, anyway, because he’d made several bets at the O club last night that he’d bed down Tess Ramsey. Of course, her brother didn’t know it. That wouldn’t bode well for Pete’s career as a helicopter pilot. Besides, Gib Ramsey was a prude in Pete’s opinion—a man who didn’t chase the bar girls at the O club as most of the pilots did.

      Tess led Pete to the back of a large thatched hut—literally, a wooden frame roofed with a blend of dried grass and woven palm leaves. Behind it ran a small stream about four feet deep and six feet wide. She gestured to the water.

      “This is where you can clean up. I suggest you strip out of that flight suit, wash it out and put it back on.”

      “Hey, wait! Where are you going?”

      “To my hut to get cleaned up,” Tess said wryly. There was something vulnerable about Pete Mallory in that moment. It struck Tess acutely, and she mentally assimilated the discovery. For all his macho bravado, suddenly he looked helpless. “When you get washed off, come to my hut. I’ve got a comb you can use, and some soap, plus a small bowl.”

      He grinned suddenly. “Sounds good.”

      “That’s an invitation to clean up, Captain, not chase me. Okay?”

      “Anything the lady wants,” he returned, flipping a smart salute in her direction.

      Tess shook her head and turned away.

      Things weren’t looking too bad despite the embarrassing situation, Pete decided as he stripped out of his smelly flight suit and threw it into the stream. Luckily, he wore a regulation olive green cotton T-shirt and boxer shorts under the suit, but those were going to have to come off, too. The stream was surrounded by tall elephant grass, a profusion of shrubbery and a few rubber trees, so he was relatively hidden from any curious eyes as he stripped naked and stood in the lukewarm water of the clear stream.

      Humming to himself and plotting his next strategy, Pete knelt down and began sluicing the clean, clear water over himself. It was hell without a washcloth—more than ever he missed the amenities that Americans back in the States took for granted. Finally cleaned up, he struggled back into his wet clothes and zipped up his flight suit. Running his fingers through his dripping wet hair and pushing it off his brow, Pete turned and walked back into the village.

      Damn! He came to a halt, realizing that Tess hadn’t told him which hut she was in. He grimaced, taking in the number of thatched dwellings. Just then, a young boy, thin as a proverbial rail, approached him curiously.

      “Missy Tess said you come,” the boy said in pidgin English. He gripped Pete’s hand and tugged on it.

      Extricating his hand from the boy’s small, thin one, Pete followed him, whistling cheerfully. Maybe the day wasn’t lost after all. Maybe, if he was diligent enough, persuasive enough, he’d talk bullheaded Tess Ramsey into coming to that party tonight—as his date.

CHAPTER TWO

      Tess’s hut looked like all the rest: woven rice grass hung around the outside of a wooden frame. Carefully woven palm spikes had been thatched to make a thick, impermeable roof to keep the rain at bay during the monsoon season, which would begin shortly. The boy pointed to an opening covered with a faded orange cotton cloth.

      “Tess?” Pete called hesitantly at the door.

      “Come in.”

      He pushed the cloth aside. The three small windows were open to allow air and light into the hut, but he had to stand still for a moment to let his eyes adjust. Tess sat cross-legged on a rice mat with a child in her arms. She had cleaned up and changed out of her black pajama outfit into a pale pink cotton blouse and khaki pants that looked threadbare. Her hair had been washed and brushed, and it lay in damp strands down her back. Long hair meant sweet exploration, Pete thought as he imagined his fingers combing through that rich red, gold and copper carpet. The image sent a sharp shaft of longing through him.

      The child in her arms was a little girl, no more than four years old. Frowning, Pete stepped closer.

      “What’s wrong with her?”

      Tess glanced up at him. In the shadowy light, Pete’s face showed the first genuine concern she’d seen in him for someone other than himself.

      “She stepped on a rusty nail the other day.” Tess ran her hand worriedly down the child’s spindly leg to where a dirty bandage covered her small foot. Feeling the child’s damp brow, she murmured, “She’s running a fever.”

      “Has she had a tetanus shot?”

      Tess held his troubled stare. Maybe he wasn’t as shallow as she’d first thought. Maybe there was a shred of depth and concern for others in his life. Maybe. “What tetanus shot? Captain, out here we don’t have such things.” She gently unbandaged the girl’s foot. The flesh was red and swollen around the puncture wound.

      Pete came forward and crouched next to Tess and the girl, frowning. “Damn, but that looks ugly.”

      “It is,” Tess said softly as she gently stroked the girl’s sweaty cheek and head. СКАЧАТЬ