by Winn, J. K.
On his way out of the tent, he gave her one last glance. She lay on her back with her head to the side. Her innocent posture tugged at his heart in a way he wouldn’t have thought possible. His concern for her provoked long forgotten tenderness, an urge to protect her. Not typically a religious man, he said a silent prayer for her deliverance from the poison.
* * *
A gentle lift of Leah’s head disturbed her sleep. She focused with difficulty on Hart bending over her.
He wiped stray wisps of hair gently from her forehead. “Time for more medication.” He held a cup to her lips.
The liquid running down her esophagus tasted of resin. In spite of a strong desire to spit it out, she swallowed. The pungent taste made her cringe. Bad medicine administered by a man she had considered bad medicine. She couldn’t help but reconsider now. “D...Delicious.”
His smile lit up the shelter. “Well, well, my patient is regaining her sense of humor. Must be a good sign. Now, just eat a bit more of this tasty tuber.”
She indicated a desire to sit so he placed his arms behind her to help. Her weak arms aided his effort. “Th...thirsty.”
He reached for the canteen and brought it to her lips. She greedily downed the liquid.
He abruptly pulled the canteen away. “Whoa. Enough. Overdoing it may make you sick.” He placed the canteen aside and helped her lie back again. “Rest now. I’ll look in on you later.”
She dozed off and on, febrile and miserable. Frightening dreams haunted her sleep. At one point, she woke soaked in sweat. Dylan came by often to treat the bite and replace cold compresses on her brow. By late afternoon, she was aroused by hunger gnawing at her gut. She reached over and clumsily rifled her pack.
Dylan slid open the tent flap. “What are you doing?”
She weakly raised her head. “I packed a Snickers bar, just in case. I’m starved.”
His expression turned from concern to relief. “You’re recovering quickly. Be right back.” He dropped the flap and returned with dried fruit. After she washed the food down with water, she laid back unaided. “Is it too late to travel today?”
Dylan unraveled the gauze. “You’re in no condition to go anywhere. Rest today. We’ll see how you are tomorrow.” His fingers smearing sap on the wound sent a bolt of electricity up her leg and she jerked it away.”
When he reached toward her leg, vicious, raised scarlet bumps she hadn’t noticed before stood in clusters on his hand and arm. She traced a string of fiery eruptions on the prominent muscle in his forearm with fingertips. “What are all those marks?”
He glanced down. “Just ant bites. I’ll be fine.”
The scabs looked like ones in a medical manual she had consulted before the trip, crusted over and blackened at the tips. She gingerly touched them, sensing the heat that emanated to her fingertips. She couldn’t believe he would completely ignore his wounds while treating her. “They look horrible. Maybe I should cover them with the chacruna I picked.”
He smiled. “Thanks, but you have a bigger problem to tend to.”
“You’re sure you don’t want me to do something?”
“Just rest.”
His devoted attention touched her, but also made her uneasy. “But we have to move on.”
“Not until you’re ready.”
Surprised, she said, “I thought you were the one with the time pressure.”
A trace of concern flickered in his eyes. “Your well-being comes first. We’ll move on when you’re better.”
Tears of gratitude touched the corner of her eyes. While Dylan tried so hard to appear removed, unaffected, she sensed a hidden well of tender emotion beginning to leak through the crack in his armor. Her throat swelled with reciprocal feelings for him. He had saved her life and she would always appreciate him for it. She reached out to him, but he stopped her fingers with his hand. She held his gaze, aware of the warmth that passed through her. He looked away.
* * *
With determination, Leah munched on Hart’s powdered egg concoction. Okay, so it wasn’t Eggs Benedict, but protein was what she needed right now. “I’m almost ready to hit the road— I mean the river.”
In the midst of placing sleeping bag in pouch, Dylan glanced over. “You’re sure you’re up to traveling today?”
Her leg throbbed incessantly, but she couldn’t allow it to cut into their limited timetable. “Of course.”
He frowned. “Why don’t I believe you? Let me see that bite.”
When he removed the gauze, she successfully fought the desire to cry out. The less she revealed her true condition, the more likely they were to move on.
The bite was still flame-colored, but the swelling had receded a bit. He probed the spot and she silently winced. “That does look better, but I think you could use another day.”
Sure, maybe I can use another day, but I can’t use one up. She appreciated Dylan’s kindness, but she had to convince him of her readiness. “I’m raring to go. Really. Just help me to my feet.”
He shook his head in a gesture of disbelief, then pulled her to standing. Her right leg wobbled under her, but she willed it still. She had to ignore the impossible pain.
She leaned on the arm he extended and staggered down to the raft, grateful for Hart’s help. She had never been the maiden-in-distress type, but the trip was more important than her vanity.
When he helped her into the canoe, her leg twisted. She let out a gasp from the spasm that rode up her calf and his hand tightened on her arm.
“Are you sure you want to do this? It seems unreasonable under the circumstances.”
She gave him her warmest smile. “I’m fine. Now let’s shove off, Capítan.”
He shrugged before prying the raft from its dock on the beach and hopping in. The raft slipped into the water and shot unsteadily downriver. Tropical sun beat down on Leah’s head, making her woozy. Even reclining, she was exhausted. Intermittent chills shook her. Her stomach churned and begged her to release its contents. She lay back with her head on the seat, fighting the feeling in her gut. She would not give in and fuel another of Dylan’s arguments about waiting another day.
Within an hour, clouds moved in to cover the sun. For once she looked forward to the daily jungle rain, which fell even during the dry season, although with less ferocity. It would soon cool the air and bring a much-desired breeze to blow away her nausea.
Dylan watched her out of the corner of his eye. Nothing like a little snakebite would deter her. He’d see. She was stronger than he thought.
The throb in her ankle had subsided a little by the time Dylan pulled the canoe ashore to give her another dose of the sap solution. He again removed the makeshift cloth bandage from her ankle and treated the wound. Every time he exposed the bite, it looked better. The red thread up her leg had turned hot pink. He acted pleased with his part in her progress, and she was secretly pleased with him, too. Although she had no intention of telling him, she had begun to trust his judgment and ability. She glanced up at him and noted how ruggedly handsome he was with his dark ruffled hair and sun-burnt skin. Given all those good looks and that cocky attitude, she didn’t want to deal with a bigger ego than he already displayed. “So, how’s it look?”
“It’s healing just fine. You’ll soon be running in the New York Marathon.”
She laughed. “And you’ll soon be chief of the Machiguenga.” She touched one of the welts that had formed on his lower arm. “That really looks nasty. Does it hurt?”
He glanced down at it. “Not as much as before.”
“I know I asked already, but I’m going to try again. Can I please cover those welts with my version of a magic potion?”
He shrugged. “You’d do that for me?”
His unassuming, even self-conscious response perplexed her. She wondered if his cocksure attitude was just a front to launder deeper feelings, feelings he wasn’t ready to share with anyone else. It made him even more attractive. “Remove your shirt and let me take a look at t
hem.”
He gave her a sheepish smile. “You know they’re not just on my upper torso.”
She pulled down the corner of her mouth in what she hoped was a world-weary expression. “Drop your pants, too.”
While he tugged his top overhead and slipped from his jeans, she prepared a cup of crushed chacruna leaf and water. When she looked up, he stood before her, naked except for a pair of skimpy jockeys. He looked like a man should, with broad shoulders and chest, narrow hips. And what a chest— pure dark down-covered muscle. She had the urge to run her fingers through the fur, but controlled herself. He was too hot to handle.
“Turn around.” With fingertips, she spread the concoction over the angry red raised bumps peppering his back and legs. “Other side.” When he turned, the look of raw passion in his eyes unnerved her. Her hand began to shake and she had to control herself so he wouldn’t notice how he effected her.
Next it was her turn. After he treated her bite, they divided a snack between them and again pushed off downstream. The spinning in her head had subsided a little; her gut had quieted a bit. “Where are we going now?”
Dylan pushed an oar through water. “We’re nearly at a Jivaro settlement.”
A jolt in the raft sent a stabbing pain through her ankle. She clenched her teeth. Took a deep breath. A minute passed before she could speak. “Who are the Jivaro?”
“They’re what the locals call isolados, an isolated tribe. They’re the fiercest tribe in the Amazon. Head hunters, actually.” He smiled as though to convince her they were merely harmless pranksters.
That did little to reassure her. “Why visit them?”
“They may have information you want. I’ve been the Kakaram’s friend for years. He’s their chief. He’s a good source of knowledge about what’s going on in the jungle.”
She questioned his choice of friends, not being included in that category. “How does he come by his information?”
Dylan pushed past a large rock jutting from the water. “These people are hunters and gatherers. They get around. Talk to other tribes— “
“When they aren’t shrinking their heads?”
He gave her a look of exasperation. “You must be feeling better, you’re timing is as wicked as ever.” An overhanging branch slapped his arm and he pushed it out of her way. “They have a finger on the jungle’s pulse, so to speak. We’ll see if we can learn anything from them. At the same time, you might rest that leg awhile.”
Downriver, Dylan rowed the canoe to shore and they disembarked. After refusing Dylan’s offer of support, Leah limped after him through a thicket of trees and vines. On one particularly thick, twisted vine, a monkey played. The approaching crunch of footsteps alerted it to company and it bolted into the trees.
Dylan pointed at the root. “See that? It’s called a monkey vine.”
“Don’t tell me. That’s because the monkeys use them like jungle gyms.”
“Ever think of guiding tours?”
She stepped around a hill of ants the size of cockroaches. “If I survive this trip, I’ll hang up a shingle.”
Further along the trail, she spied a Rhododendron bush the size of a small tree. Every plant and animal in the Amazon seemed larger than life. Now she was certain she had slipped down the rabbit hole into a Lewis Carroll jungle fantasy.
Dylan stopped so suddenly she almost ran into him. He flung out an arm meant to stop her. With his free hand, he pointed at a creature that might have stepped out of a sci-fi movie. Over two feet tall, the furry thing stood on hind legs scratching at a tree with six-inch claws. “What’s that? Its nails are longer than the acrylic ones worn in Los Angeles,” she whispered.
“It’s a tamandua, an anteater. Let’s go around it.”
“That sounds smart.” To keep from walking too close to the animal, Dylan cut a path in the brush with his machete, slowing their progress. Leah’s leg throbbed more with every step. When she stumbled over a branch, her ankle toggled and she moaned.
Dylan extended an arm. “We’re near the village. How about a lift?”
She might enjoy being in his arms too much for her own good. “I’m okay.”
The mud became slicker. Leah slid along, praying they would make it to the village before her ankle totally gave out. Dylan slowed his stride to pace her and help her along. Every so often, she’d falter and he’d quietly grip her arm for support. Gratitude for his unstated thoughtfulness increased with every step. She leaned against him and the warmth of his body comforted her.
Finally, he slowed. “See that clearing? That’s where we’re going.”
So close now, she could slide in to home-plate, Leah hurried as much as she could to end the agony. At the clearing, she had to double over to catch her breath. A whizzing sound over her head caused her to jerk upright. A dart flew past her. Another whistled nearby. Before she could react, Dylan grabbed her, threw her to the ground, and flung himself on top of her. Her leg twisted under him and she had to bite down on her hand not to cry out in shock.
Beneath him, she felt more than heard him shout in a strange tongue. A man she couldn’t see said something in return. After an incomprehensible exchange, Dylan lifted off her and offered a hand up.
As she staggered to standing, she faced the most frightening sight of her life. Anteater and snake paled in comparison to the man before her. Naked except for a brown loincloth, a tasseled headband with brilliant toucan feathers and a quill full of darts, his chest and face were slashed with red paint. His glittering eyes displayed intense hostility. In his hands he held a dart gun the size of a small rocket launcher. Another warrior stood behind him with bow and arrow pointed at them.
She grabbed Dylan’s arm. “Are these your friends? They sure know how to make their guests feel right at home,” she muttered through clenched teeth.
Dylan’s face was pale, drawn. “This isn’t their typical welcome. They’re frightened just now. Seems like they may have had the same visitor as the Machiguengo. An old white man came by their village and six people came down with the fever. That’s probably a quarter of their population.”
Leah was still too shattered and in too much pain to fully grasp the information. “Fever? You mean, the Hemorrhagic fever?”
“Could be.” Dylan wiped sweat from his forehead with a bandanna. “The Kakaram’s busy just now. Until he’s free, these gentlemen want to escort us to the nearest hut and make us their guests. Then we’ll have a formal audience with the Kakaram before going on our way.” He smiled a cockeyed, reassuring smile.
“What do they intend to do with us?”
“Don’t worry. If they had wanted to kill us, we’d already be dead. They just want to scare us. You should see them use those dart guns when they mean business. Their aim is remarkable. And they treat the dart’s tip with curare so even a fringe hit is fatal.”
“Curare?” She had heard the term before.
“Deadly poison taken from those orange frogs we passed on the trail.”
Those adorable little frogs. Hard to imagine they were the source of a poison. Which just confirmed what she already knew: you couldn’t believe appearances.
He took her arm. “As soon as I see their chief, everything will be all right.”
The dart-wielding warrior grunted his impatience, said something to Dylan and, with a rough hand on Dylan’s arm, marched them toward a round shaped building made of poles set in the ground at intervals lashed together with strips of bark. He made it plain he would stand guard outside.
Once inside, Leah lowered her tremulous legs to a mat, hugged her knees to her chest to keep them from knocking, and watched Dylan repeatedly pace the floor. “You’re making me nervous with your pacing.”
He came over and lowered himself to her side. “Is this better?”
Better, but not good enough. The ideal solution would take them far away from this place. “How long do you think we’ll have to wait?”
“We’ll see the Kakaram when he thinks we’ve sweated
it out long enough.”
“Why is he holding us here. What does this mean?”
“I wish I knew. This is so unusual.” Dylan rubbed his jaw. “I’ve never been treated this way before.”
“What can we do?” She wanted to do something, anything to rectify the situation. Do anything but sit in fear and anxiety.
“Nothing at the moment, except make ourselves at home.” A muscle dancing in Dylan’s forehead told her he was as anxious about this as she was.
She placed her hand over his and, after a moment, his shoulders relaxed. When she tried to pull her hand away, he enclosed it in his.
Now was not the time for affection. She was more than a little annoyed he had brought her here. She patted his hand and reclaimed hers.
Dogs barked outside the hut. When she looked past the skins that served as a door, all she could see was the muscle-bound guard with the dart gun. “I hate to do this right now, but I need to use a toilet.”
“The closest toilet is the darkest corner of this hut.”
“I can’t do that.” She had to keep some semblance of pride. “Please tell the guard I’ll follow whatever rules he sets if I can only go outside.”
Dylan mouthed an “okay” and approached the guard. After a short conversation, he returned to her side. “He says you can use the bushes just outside the hut.”
The guard lifted the flap and gestured with the dart gun. Leah waited for Dylan’s nod, then rose and followed the guard’s dart gun pointed toward a thicket of small palms. The guard continued to watch her even after she had reached the indicated spot, but she stared him down until he looked away.
Just beyond the guard’s reach, Leah thought about making a sudden sprint for the raft. She could be there before he caught up with her in the thick brush. If ever a time seemed ripe for escape, this was it, but almost as soon as she considered the plan, she regretfully abandoned it. Besides her bum ankle, she could never run out on Dylan and leave him to the Jivaro’s mercy. They were a team now and she owed him her allegiance after what he’d done for her.
