She wondered if he was thinking about her as she was him. Was he remembering the kiss they’d shared—the kiss that had almost gotten out of hand?
An hour later, moisture already coating her skin, Victoria longed for a drink of water. As warm and humid as the morning already was, she expected the day to be a real scorcher.
Quinn halted so abruptly that she ran straight into his back. He pivoted instantly, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into the cover of the jungle. They dropped down on their haunches.
“What?” she asked, puzzled by his actions but at the same time realizing he had sensed some type of danger to which she was oblivious.
“Shh. There’s someone out there,” he whispered.
She listened. Heard nothing. They waited. After a few minutes she recognized the distant sounds—talking and crying. Not soldiers. Women and children!
“Quinn?”
“Yeah, honey, I know. Doesn’t sound much like soldiers, does it?”
“Who do you think it is? We’re not that close to Luquillo, are we?”
Quinn helped her to feet, then led her back onto the path. “Be prepared for anything. Have your gun ready, just in case. There’s only one way to find out who they are.”
Within minutes they encountered a group of natives, comprised of two old men and several weeping women and sniffling children. Quinn suspected, even before questioning them, that these people were from Luquillo, but an old man in his seventies, who seemed to be the leader, confirmed Quinn’s suspicions.
“The rebels attacked our village early this morning,” the old man, who had introduced himself as Alonzo Alverez, explained. “It was quickly decided that I and Manuel should get as many women and children out of the village as possible, but we—” he spread his arms “—are the only ones who escaped.”
“What are the rebel troops doing in this area?” Quinn asked. “I thought General Xavier had the bulk of his army headed toward Gurabo.”
“Sí, señor. This is true, but it seems Captain Esteban discovered that an American had landed a plane on El Prado and has disappeared. And the American nurse who runs the clinic in Palmira, also has disappeared. It is believed they are together. The soldiers were sent to Luquillo to search for them.”
“What made the troops think this man and woman were in Luquillo?” Quinn asked.
Alonzo’s weary gaze traveled from Quinn to Victoria, then returned to settle directly on Quinn. “Your friend and my nephew, Julio Vargas, was tortured until he told Captain Esteban that he had sent you and the señorita to Luquillo to buy his cousin Fidel’s truck. Fidel is my grandson, señor, and he is now dead.”
Victoria covered her mouth with her hand, silencing her gasp. Quinn glanced at her, then spoke to the old man. “The soldiers killed Fidel?”
“Sí, señor. To make an example of him. No one is to help the American man and woman. If they do, they, too, will be killed.”
Victoria wanted to scream, No! No, please tell me that we aren’t responsible for the attack on Luquillo, for the murder of this poor old man’s grandson!
“Where are you and your people going?” Quinn asked. “Is there another village close by?”
She was amazed by Quinn’s composure, by his lack of concern for what Alonzo and his people had suffered.
“Not close,” Alonzo said. “But higher up in the mountains is a small village. My grandson’s wife, Jacinta—” he pointed to a very pregnant young woman, who appeared to be in a trance and was being led by another woman “—was born in La Luz. Her family will welcome us, if we can make our way there.”
“We’ll do whatever we can to help you,” Victoria said. “It’s our fault that—”
“How far is La Luz?” Quinn interrupted her, knowing that if he didn’t stop her, Victoria would promise these people the moon and stars—and then try her damnedest to deliver.
“La Luz lies on the eastern side of the mountain and is about four hours from here on foot,” Alonzo said.
“Did any soldiers follow you when you left Luquillo?”
“No, señor. Once the soldiers took Fidel, I knew I had to act quickly. Manuel—” he glanced at the other elderly man “—and I didn’t think two old men would be missed, so we hurriedly gathered Manuel’s wife, two daughters and his grandchildren and my grandson’s wife. Once out of the village, Jacinta turned to look back, hoping for a glimpse of Fidel. Unfortunately she saw the soldiers kill him.”
“We’re headed east, too,” Quinn said. “It’s only a matter of time before the men who attacked Luquillo come in that direction, to join forces with the other troops marching toward Gurabo. We don’t have time to waste, if we intend to stay ahead of them.”
Victoria grabbed Quinn’s arm, then spoke to him in English, assuming none of the villagers would be able to understand her. “We must help these people get to La Luz. It’s our fault that the rebels invaded their village and killed Alonzo’s grandson.”
Quinn glared at her as he jerked her up against him and said, “Stop blaming yourself. This country is at war and men like Captain Esteban don’t need a reason to kill.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you aren’t going to help these people?”
“I’m saying my only objective is to get us to Gurabo and then off this island. I was hired to rescue you, not save a little group of displaced natives.”
“How can you be so hard-hearted, so unfeeling?”
“Stop being such a damn bleeding heart!” He shoved her away from him so roughly that she nearly toppled to the ground.
When he reached out to grab her, she regained her balance and glowered at him. “I can’t believe that, even for one minute, I thought you were…that you could be… I despise you, Quinn McCoy. Do you hear me? I think you’re contemptible!”
“Think what you will,” he told her. “But the truth is that no matter what we do, we can’t change things for these people. Once this war reached them, they became a part of it, just as the people in Palmira did. You and I are only two people. And two people don’t have much chance against a whole army.”
“I realize that, but the least we could do is help these women and children get to La Luz. That’s all I want to do. Tell me, is that too much to ask?”
Speaking in Spanish, Quinn issued an order to the two elderly men. “Show me—” he pulled the map from his shirt pocket “—where La Luz is located. If it’s on our way to Gurabo, then we’ll all travel together.” Quinn patted the butt of his M-16, then glanced meaningfully at the M-1 draped over Victoria’s shoulder.
Hurriedly, Alonzo pointed out the location. Quinn nodded his head and said, “Let’s get moving.” He took in the haggard expressions on the women’s and children’s faces, then his gaze lingered on Jacinta’s swollen belly. “We’ll stop as often as possible to let these people rest.”
Victoria fell into step alongside Quinn, who led them out of the forest and onto the well-worn path that skirted the Mt. Simona jungle. The path led upward, a gradual ascent that wound diagonally from the valleys and the Rio Blanco miles away.
“La Luz is on our way to Gurabo?” Victoria asked him in English.
Quinn neither slowed his pace nor glanced her way. “Yeah.”
“You aren’t worried about traveling the old roadway?”
“No.”
“You don’t think these people will slow us down?”
His jaw clenched. “I’m doing what you wanted, aren’t I? So shut the hell up!”
Victoria stopped the smile before it touched her lips, but inside she laughed with joy. Quinn had an awfully loud bark and she didn’t doubt for a minute that, when necessary, his bite was equally ferocious. But in this case, he’d been all bark and no bite. Was he doing this good deed for her sake? Or because he wasn’t quite as heartless as he’d like her to believe? Whatever his motives, she was grateful. Leaving these poor people to fend for themselves would have broken her heart.
As they followed the uneven roadway, coconut palms and mango
trees jabbed through the profusion of low shrubs and high grass along their path. After an hour they stopped to rest. She shared her water with the children first. Quinn held his canteen up to Jacinta’s lips. Victoria glanced at him and smiled. He ignored her. Her smile broadened.
Halfway to their destination, they ran into trouble—the remains of a recent landslide blocked the road. Quinn slashed a path around the rubble and within fifteen minutes they resumed their trek on the narrow pathway that had originally been created ages ago by long-forgotten native tribes. The terrain changed as they climbed ever upward and onward. The low undergrowth that flanked them gave way to towering pines. Overhead four black dots circled in the sky. Turkey vultures. Victoria’s stomach tightened.
After two more breaks, their water gone and the hot sun pouring down on them, she heard Jacinta assuring the others that her parents’ village was not far off. Victoria looked to Quinn for confirmation.
“Another hour,” he said. “How do you think she’s holding up?”
“Jacinta?”
“She shouldn’t be making this trip in her condition, should she?”
“To be honest, I’m not sure she’s feeling much of anything,” Victoria said. “I think the shock of seeing her husband killed has dulled her senses. And I’m not sure that’s a bad thing, under the circumstances.”
The closer they drew to La Luz, the steeper and narrower the road, until finally it became only a path that forced them to walk single file. Brush and bracken covered the path in many places, their heavy foliage like green arms reaching outward and upward to block the way.
Wiping away an errant strand of damp hair that had fallen across her forehead, Victoria glanced behind her to count their entourage. No one was missing. From her vantage point on a ridge above them, she saw that Alonzo and the other elderly man remained protectively at the end of the line.
When they stopped for what Quinn told them would be their last break before reaching La Luz, he asked who was thirsty. Victoria wondered why he’d bothered to ask since their canteens were empty and there didn’t seem to be a stream anywhere nearby.
She stared in amazement when Quinn ripped a palm off a tree, a variety of bromeliad abundant in the tropics. A woman rushed forward with a jug she’d pulled from a cloth sack on her back. She removed a thin mesh scarf from the pocket of her skirt, then covered the lip of the jug with it. Victoria glanced inside the huge palm as Quinn tilted it over the jug. The brown fluid cupped by the palm, a reservoir for rainwater, turned her stomach. Flies, mosquitoes and other insects, along with unidentifiable decaying matter, floated in the liquid.
Once the woman strained the water, the villagers handed the jug from one person to another, but when they passed the jug to her, Victoria declined. She decided she wasn’t thirsty, after all.
Quinn finished off the rainwater in the jug, then sat beside Victoria where she’d slumped on an enormous tree root protruding through the scraggly underbrush. He removed the map from his pocket, spreading it out for her to see.
“Here’s La Luz.” He pointed to the spot with his index finger, then traced a line eastward along the Rio Gurabo, to the capital city on the Atlantic coast. “And here’s Gurabo. Once we reach La Luz, we’ll eat, fill our canteens and rest for a while, but I want us on the road again while there’s plenty of daylight.”
“How far out of the way are we going by taking these people to Jacinta’s village?”
“I wasn’t exactly lying when I said La Luz was on our way to Gurabo.” He grinned sheepishly. “We were heading east, anyway, just not higher up Mt. Simona’s eastern ridge. We’ll have to head down the mountain and follow the river to reach Gurabo.”
Victoria laid her hand over Quinn’s, which still held the map. Squeezing his hand tightly, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
Without acknowledging the kiss, Quinn hastily folded the map, then returned it to his shirt pocket. He stood abruptly, turning his back to her as he walked over and began talking to Alonzo and Manuel.
Quinn McCoy was an enigma to her. A complicated man who was far more than he seemed to be. Every time she thought she had him figured out, he surprised her. But one thing she knew for sure, she no longer disliked him.
The residents of La Luz poured out of their thatch-roofed houses like bees swarming from a beehive. Others, who were outside, dropped whatever they were doing to stand and stare at the two Anglos leading the group of natives into the village. A tall, slender man threw up his arms and cried out, then rushed toward Jacinta.
“Padre!” Jacinta wept as he enclosed her in an embrace.
Alonzo greeted the man, calling him by name—Lucero.
Quinn led Victoria aside as the people of La Luz welcomed the villagers from Luquillo. Once introductions and explanations were finished, Jacinta’s father, obviously some sort of village elder, shook hands with Quinn.
“Welcome to La Luz,” Lucero said. “I am grateful that you have brought my daughter to me.” He placed his hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “Come, bring your woman and eat with my family.”
Accepting the man’s invitation, Quinn and Victoria followed Jacinta and Alonzo to the largest thatch-roofed shack in the small mountainside village. Jacinta’s mother took her daughter into the smaller of the two bedrooms in the house, then returned to her guests.
After Jacinta’s father prayed, giving thanks for the food and for his daughter’s life, her mother served a simple meal of beans, rice and tortillas. Victoria savored every delicious bite, then downed a full glass of clean spring water.
“Alonzo tells me that you and your woman are on your way to Gurabo,” Lucero said.
“Yes, we were hoping to reach the capital city today, but that was before… Well, we had thought we’d find transportation in Luquillo. Instead, we came across Alonzo and the villagers who had escaped.”
“We will give you water and food for your journey down the mountain.” Lucero motioned for his wife to refill Quinn’s glass. “You are welcome to stay overnight.”
“I’m afraid we need to leave as soon as possible,” Quinn said.
“I understand. Alonzo says that your woman’s life is in danger from Captain Esteban.” Lucero inspected Victoria with a discerning eye, then nodded affirmatively, as if agreeing with himself on his decision. “A man would risk everything for such a woman when she is his.”
Neither Quinn nor Victoria bothered to correct Alonzo’s or Lucero’s assumption that she was his woman. In their minds a man would risk his life for only one reason—for love.
Thirty minutes later, their backpacks in place and their rifles draped over their shoulders, Quinn and Victoria left La Luz.
“If we stay on the path, we’ll make better time,” Quinn told her. “I’m willing to risk it if you are. At least until we reach Rio Gurabo, then we’ll follow the river. The quicker we can travel, the less likely the rebels are to overtake us.”
“Whatever you think best.” She smiled when she noted the look of surprise on his face. “What’s wrong, shocked that I’m being so agreeable?”
“Yeah, but I know better than to think your amiable disposition is permanent. Sooner or later you’ll return to your normal stubborn self and start refusing to take my suggestions.”
“You don’t suggest, Quinn, you order.”
“Only when I know I’m right.”
“Which you think is all the time,” she said.
His facial expression sobered and he focused on her eyes. “If I give you any orders from here on out, take them. Obeying my orders could save both our lives.”
She returned his serious stare, understanding only too well what he was trying to tell her. “I do know that now. Despite some of the things I’ve done, I’m really not stupid. Ever since you came to Santo Bonisto, you’ve been trying to save my life. I want to apologize for giving you such a difficult time when you first showed up at the clinic. I’d been lying to myself for weeks, thinking I could stay in Palmira and keep my true identit
y a secret.”
He lifted his hand, as if to touch her, then let his hand fall to his side. “Tell me when you get tired. We need to keep moving as much as possible, but if you get so tired that I have to carry you, that will slow us down more than taking breaks.”
“I’ll let you know. I promise.”
Less than an hour from La Luz, Quinn heard footsteps behind them. He took Victoria with him off the road, squatted and aimed his M-16. A skinny youth of no more than sixteen came into sight. A boy from the village. Quinn rose to his feet, then stepped onto the pathway.
“Señor! Señorita,” the boy called out, breathless.
“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked, fearing that the rebels had reached La Luz.
“Lucero says you must return to the village.” The boy looked past Quinn to Victoria. “The old man, Alonzo, tells us that you are a nurse, señorita. You are much needed. Now!”
Quinn held up a hand to halt Victoria from running past him. “Who needs her?”
“Jacinta,” the boy replied. “Her baby wants to be born, but Honoria, the midwife, says that the child will die. It is not time for the little one to be born. Not for many weeks.”
“Then there’s nothing the señorita can do,” Quinn said.
She grabbed Quinn’s arm. “But what if there is something I can do? In Jacinta’s condition, she might die, too. I can at least try to save her and the child.”
“This reminds me of Pablo’s little fairy tale about his sister-in-law being in labor and needing you,” Quinn said. “You’re a sucker for pregnant women, aren’t you, honey?”
“This is an entirely different situation and you know it! Jacinta really is in labor. And this time I actually might be able to save two lives. I’m a nurse, trained to—”
In the Arms of a Hero Page 8
