Aly stirred, and Clay looked over at her. She was groggy, her eyes a bit puffy, but endearing. He gave her a slight smile of welcome, then tucked the blanket around Dan. If he stayed, he’d want to move those few feet and take Aly into his arms. She looked so damned lonely and hurting. He forced himself to get up and exit the raft.
Taking a deep breath, Clay studied the ocean’s churning whitecaps. Where was the rescue plane? Why hadn’t he even heard an airplane engine? He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, walking slowly down the beach, his head bowed in thought.
Aly took care of her personal necessities, then walked back toward the raft. The evening sky was fraught with swiftly moving clouds. The wind tugged at her loosely fitting flight suit, and she lifted her face toward the ocean. She remembered awakening, hearing Clay’s lowered voice as he pleaded with Dan. And then her gaze moved to the right. She saw Clay a quarter of a mile away, a lonely, dark figure against the mighty expanse of sky and earth.
Alone…he was terribly alone in a way she’d never imagined. Her family was tightly knit and close. They’d stood together, deriving strength from one another, through every storm life had hurled at them. But Clay had no one. Rubbing her head, Aly fought back the tears. Clay wouldn’t take her tears of compassion as anything less than pity. And she was sure he wouldn’t tolerate that. Dejectedly, Aly walked back to the raft.
When Clay returned, he found her busy preparing two MREs—the dehydrated meals packaged in plastic bags. He nodded a greeting in her direction when he entered the raft. Tying the flaps shut, he carefully made his way down to where she sat.
“What’s cooking?”
She managed a small smile, handing him the dried food packet. “Not much, believe me.”
Clay sat cross-legged next to her, their knees almost touching. There wasn’t much room in one of these things. “Bet your cooking’s great in comparison to this stuff.” He took the small bottle of water, putting a bit of liquid into the bag.
“Don’t be so sure.” Aly laughed softly. Her spirits rose unaccountably just being with Clay. His face was clear, and she saw less tension around his eyes and mouth.
“I’ll bet you’re one hell of a good cook.”
“I don’t poison myself, if that’s what you mean,” she answered dryly.
He grinned. “Spirited, aren’t you?”
Aly flushed. “Not really. I just can’t stand all this depression. When things get bad, I tend to get a black sense of humor in order to lift myself out of it.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Clay picked up a plastic fork. The dried food had plumped up considerably with the addition of the water. He watched Aly pick at her meal.
“You need to eat.”
“I know.” And then Aly rallied. “What’s your favorite meal, Clay?”
He leaned back, stretching his long legs across the width of the raft. “Ahh, food is one of my favorite topics.” He grinned at her. “I guess it is for every bachelor who struggles with boiling water or burning soup in a pan. I’m a meat and potatoes man. Nothing fancy about me.”
“Roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, right?” Aly ventured.
He gave her a look of praise. “Bingo. You’re a pretty insightful lady, you know that?”
“Thanks,” she murmured, responding to the warmth of his tone.
“How about you? What’s your favorite meal?”
The MRE food was dreadful, Aly decided. She wrinkled her nose and held Clay’s gray gaze, filled with amusement. His smile sent her tumbling on a rainbow of emotions. “Me? I like Greek food. Good, tart feta cheese, those nasty-tasting little black olives and some lemon soup with rice.”
“God, that sounds good. What do you say we take a walk over the hill here, and visit the first Greek restaurant we see? I’ll even spring for some retsina wine.”
Aly laughed and held out her right hand toward him. “You’ve got a deal!”
Her laughter broke the pall Clay had felt around him. Gently taking her bandaged hand, Clay shook it and matched her smile. “First thing I’ll do when we get back is take you to a real Greek restaurant over in Palo Alto.”
The joy died in Aly. He was teasing her. Nothing was meant by his statement. If only they could forget their past! There was such a richness that lay between them to be explored and discovered together.
Clay saw the laughter die in Aly’s eyes and on her lips. Why? Unable to ferret out an answer, he changed topics and released her hand. “I don’t know about you, but I think waiting for this rescue to come is the pits.”
The food tasted like cardboard, but Aly forced herself to eat it. “Are you sure the radio is working, Clay?”
“Yeah. I checked it a while ago.”
“Is it possible that because of all the storm’s activity the signal might be getting shorted out in the stratosphere?”
He nodded glumly. “That’s a possibility.”
Aly toyed with the rest of her meal, unable to finish it. “Clay?”
He looked over at her. “Yes?”
“What if rescue doesn’t come?”
Silence hung in the raft, the sound of the wind buffeting them. He poked at the food with his fork, his brow wrinkling. “The map in the rescue packet says that there’s a Huichol Indian village inland over the coastal mountain range. We may have to do some walking.”
Aly digested the possibility. “Baja is hot this time of year from what I understand.”
“Roger that. Hot and arid. No water anywhere.”
“Would we have enough water and food for that kind of trek?”
Clay nodded. “If we’re careful, we’d have five days’ worth. That should be enough to reach that village and find help.”
Baja was such a desolate place, though. Aly kept the thought to herself, mulling over the possibilities. “We’ve got to be rescued.” She muttered it with such feeling that Clay looked up in surprise at her. “Dan’s badly injured,” she explained.
“Yeah, and if push comes to shove, we’re going to have to leave him here with half the supplies and go inland to get help.”
“What?” Aly’s eyes rounded. “You can’t be serious. He’s hurt! You can’t just leave him!”
Clay measured the sudden emotion in her voice. “We may have to, Aly.”
Anger swept through her. “You don’t just go waltzing off and desert someone in Dan’s condition!”
He set aside the MRE, facing her. The word desert smarted. Morgan Trayhern had deserted Stephen and his men. Was that why Aly was suddenly so protective of Dan? “Look,” he began quietly, trying to get her to calm down, “we’ve both been taught survival methods. If necessary, Dan will stay here, and we’ll go for help. That way we increase our chances of being found. Dan can stay with the radio and monitor it. If he gets rescued first, he’ll have our coordinates, and we’ll be picked up anyway. If we get to a village, we can get help for him. Either way, it increases our chances of survival, Aly.”
Her hands knotted, and she glared at him. “I won’t leave a man to die out here alone when he could come with us.”
“Aly, be reasonable—”
“No! You’re the one who wants to leave Dan behind! I won’t do it, Cantrell. I swear, I won’t!”
Clay set his jaw, assessing her emotional response. Obviously he had struck a raw nerve in Aly. He’d suggested many times the threat of her deserting him and the crew in the face of danger. Now he was reaping the results of his misfired anger over Morgan Trayhern’s activities. Dammit! Rubbing his jaw that was bristly with a day’s growth of beard, Clay held her fiery blue gaze.
“Look, calm down, Aly. We aren’t at that point yet. I’m sure that as this storm continues to weaken, our chances of being discovered increase.”
Aly’s nostrils flared with a caldron of tapped feelings. She scrambled to her feet, glaring at Clay as she moved by him. Right now, she needed some fresh air. Her voice was strained. “You’d better hope like hell we get a rescue, Cantrell, because I won’t leave Da
n behind.” She jerked open the ties and slipped between the flaps, disappearing into the gray twilight.
“Son of a bitch!” Clay glared at the flaps. He was getting a taste of that famous Trayhern bulldog stubbornness he’d heard about. For everyone’s sake, Clay hoped rescue would come by daylight tomorrow. It had to. It just had to….
By dusk of the second day, Clay knew rescue wasn’t coming. He stood alone on the beach, his hands in the pockets of his flight suit. The ocean was calm now, almost glassy in appearance as the sun slid toward the horizon. What few clouds were in the sky were high cirrus, a harbinger of good weather.
The day had been filled with ups and downs. The good news was that Dan Ballard had regained consciousness. The man was seriously felled by a concussion. There was no way, if they had to trek across the mountains in the distance, that Dan could make the trip. Releasing a sigh, Clay headed back toward the raft, girding himself for a coming battle with Aly.
When he lifted the flap, she jerked a look up in his direction. She was changing the dressing on Dan’s massive head wound.
“Feeling better, Dan?” Clay asked, moving inside and sitting opposite where Aly knelt.
Dan managed a wan smile. “Yes, sir. Just a little bitty headache, is all.”
Clay grinned down at him. “What is it about redheads?” he teased. “Do you all fib about the amount of pain you’re in?” Glancing at Aly, he saw her scowl. All day she’d avoided him, barely saying two words. And one look into those blue eyes fraught with anger and emotion told Clay they were still at loggerheads.
“Maybe some aspirin?” Dan asked.
Clay reached for the first-aid kit. “Yeah, we can do that for you.” He took two white tablets out of a bottle, and waited until Aly had completed the dressing. Slipping his arm beneath the engineer’s shoulders, Clay lifted him enough that he could wash the aspirin down with some water.
“Thanks…” Dan uttered, relaxing back on the pallet that Aly had made for him earlier that day.
It was going to be dark soon. The light was fading rapidly inside the raft. Clay put the bottle back in the first-aid kit. “Listen, Dan, there are some things we need to talk over.”
“We aren’t going to be rescued,” Dan guessed.
“Chances are looking pretty slim,” Clay agreed quietly. He risked another look at Aly. She was kneeling, hands tense on her thighs, her eyes very large and very round.
“Do you think the combination of weather and ocean current has thrown them off our track?”
“Yeah, I do, Dan.” Clay picked absently at his bootlace. “I’m sure the coast guard tried to figure out where our crash occurred and flew a search pattern. But we all know that in a typhoon, ocean currents change like the wind. They may be hundreds of miles west of us, still searching over the ocean.”
“That’s what I thought, sir.”
“What about the radio?” Aly demanded, her voice tight, accusing.
Clay glanced at it. “It only has a certain radius. If those search planes are flying too far away, they won’t pick up our signal.”
Dan moved his head slightly, his eyes on Clay. “So what’s in the cards, Skipper? What should we do?”
Here it comes. Clay braced himself and addressed both of his crew. “I think our only chance is for Lieutenant Trayhern and I to climb that mountain range and try to locate the Indian village we know exists on the other side.”
“No!” Aly exploded. “You aren’t going to desert Dan! He’s a valuable member of our party, too. You can’t just walk off and leave him!”
“We aren’t deserting him, Aly,” Cantrell said in a low voice. “Now, get a hold on yourself. Hysterics aren’t going to help any of us.”
Aly fought her anger. “Dammit, you’re not leaving Dan here to—to possibly die by himself! What if he goes back into a coma? Who will feed or care for him? What if—”
“Don’t worry, Miss Trayhern,” Dan protested weakly, I’ll be okay here. Really, I will.”
She was shaking with rage and frustration. “You aren’t well enough to decide anything, Dan! You’ve got a six-inch gash across your head! It could get infected, you could get a horrible fever and go wandering off in delirium!”
“He’ll be fine,” Clay growled, holding her tear-filled eyes. “Dan’s as tough as they come. He’s been taught survival techniques just as we have. He’ll be able to tough it out here alone until help arrives.”
The heat in the raft was stifling. Both men were looking at her. Didn’t they understand? No Trayhern left anyone behind! Her father had crashed in Korea behind enemy lines while trying to rescue her mother who had been taken prisoner, and he hadn’t given up. Nor had he surrendered. Instead he’d fought his way back to safety. Her family sense of honor would not allow her to leave a fallen comrade behind. Ever!
“Excuse me, I’ve got to get out of here,” she rattled, climbing awkwardly to her feet. With her left arm in a sling, Aly didn’t have the balance she wanted. Struggling to control her anger, she wedged past Clay, escaping into the cool evening air.
Tears blinded Aly as she ran down the packed sand toward the ocean. They didn’t understand! Dan could die without continued care! A sob tore from her, and she slowed, stumbling to a halt. Aly buried her face in her right hand, her weeping drowned out by the crash of waves along the beach.
Clay was on Aly’s heels and closed the distance between them. He reached out, gripping her arm gently and turning her around. “Aly, listen to me—”
She reacted as if stung, jerking her arm out of his grasp. Stumbling back a step, she screamed, “Don’t touch me!”
He froze. “Aly, for God’s sake! I’m not deserting Dan. And neither are you!”
“Yes, you are!” she cried out between sobs. Her face contorted, glistening with tears. “I was taught never to leave someone who was injured. Our family doesn’t leave people behind! Not now, not ever! You go take a hike over the mountains. I’ll stay here and tend Dan.”
Grimly, Clay advanced upon her. He took her firmly, but gently, by the shoulders “Now look,” he grated, his face inches from hers, “You’ll do as I order. I can’t help it if you and your family have an exaggerated sense of honor toward others. This is one situation that demands that both of us leave Ballard.” His fingers dug more firmly into her arms. Aly’s eyes were wide with anguish. “Dammit, listen to me! You’re not deserting Dan. Not in my eyes.”
“That’s all you’ve ever accused me of!” she shrieked. “How many times did you throw it in my face that I might desert you or the crew at a crucial time?” Aly tried to break free of his grip, but it was impossible. She saw his face contort with a series of emotions. “That’s right! I’ve heard it long enough and loud enough, Cantrell. Well, I’m not leaving Dan, and that’s final! I’m not going to go back to Moffett with you telling everyone that another member of the Trayhern family deserted someone at a critical point, possibly causing loss of life! No way!”
He wanted to shake some sense into that red head of hers, but Clay knew he had no one but himself to blame for her reaction. “Okay,” he whispered harshly, “this is my fault, Aly! I pushed you into a corner. I was wrong as hell to keep goading you about deserting us. I’m wrong, do you hear me? The past nine months you’ve proved yourself in my eyes. I don’t consider you a quitter or a deserter. Do you understand?”
With a cry, Aly jerked away. It cost her dearly in terms of pain, her shoulder beginning to ache again. Placing her right hand against the shoulder in the sling, she sobbed, “I don’t believe you, Cantrell! Not a word of what you say will make me change my mind! I was this way before I ever met you and had the miserable pleasure of being harassed daily by you calling me a traitor!”
Running his fingers through his hair, Clay snarled, “Your brother’s a traitor—you’re not!”
“It’s one and the same with you, though, Cantrell. Isn’t it? When you look at me, you see Morgan. You see your brother, Stephen, and your mother!” She jabbed a thumb into her chest,
advancing upon him, breathing hard. “You’ve never seen me! The only thing you live with daily is the damned past. You drag it around like a good friend.” Her nostrils flared. “Well, now we’re all going to pay for what you’ve insisted upon doing. I’m not leaving Ballard. You can court-martial me after we’re rescued, and I won’t give a damn. My honor, my personal integrity toward others is a hell of a lot more important to me than what you deem important!”
Clay stood frozen as she shouldered on by him, stalking up the slight hill and disappearing into the darkness. Dammit! He threw his hands on his hips, clenching his teeth. Glaring out into the dark ocean, he wanted to cry. Not for himself, but for what he’d done to Aly in his blind hatred toward her brother. His chest hurt, and his throat constricted. Tears jammed into Clay’s eyes. He turned on his heel, walking blindly away from the raft. His hatred had turned Aly into the shrieking, wounded woman who had stood crying unashamedly in front of him. Taking a ragged breath, Clay staggered to a stop, hot tears rolling down his cheeks.
His hatred had turned Aly’s vulnerability and honesty into something twisted and ugly. God, what had he done? Sinking to his knees, he realized that the coolness of the sand couldn’t stop the heat of utter guilt from consuming him. He’d hurt Aly so badly that she was going to make a last-ditch stand to salvage what pride and integrity she had left. If he forced her to go with him, he’d end up destroying that. And the last thing he wanted was to hurt Aly any more.
Chapter Eight
Half an hour before the sun rose above the rugged mountains of Baja California, Clay ended his lonely all-night vigil at the edge of the ceaseless ocean. He stripped out of his flight suit and dived into the warm water, scrubbing his skin clean with the abrasive sand. Afterward, he used a disposable razor against his dark beard, scraping his skin free of the whiskers. By the time he’d shrugged back into the uniform, he felt slightly better. But only slightly.
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