MURDOCK'S LAST STAND

by Beverly Barton

  "She's telling you that her mama and papa were killed when the soldiers raided their village," Murdock translated. "From what she says, I think this must have happened months ago."

  "Then what is she doing here, now? How did she get here, all alone and in the middle of the fighting?" Catherine wiped the child's face with her fingertips.

  Murdock questioned the child, who replied almost hysterically. He turned to Catherine and said, "She was shuffled from one family to another in her village and finally sent to another village to live with distant relatives of her mother. When the soldiers came to that village, she escaped by running into the jungle."

  "Oh, this poor baby!" Catherine hugged the little girl close to her. "Tell her that we'll take care of her and find her a place to stay."

  Murdock translated quickly and the child nodded, but instantly grabbed Catherine around the neck and babbled the same words over and over.

  "She wants to stay with you," Murdock said. "Look, Cat, we've got to get to Celendin as soon as possible. Two men, a wounded soldier, a woman and a child won't have much of a chance against a squad of Zarazaian soldiers. And we have no guarantees that the jungle isn't swarming with government troops."

  "I understand. I'm—" she cupped the child's head with the back of her hand "—we're ready whenever you are."

  Murdock caressed the little girl's cheek and asked her name. "¿Cuál es su nombre?"

  "Benita," she replied.

  "You take care of Benita," Murdock said. "And I'll take care of you. Understand?"

  "Yes." Didn't he know by now she understood only too well that, whereas he was totally in his element in a situation like this, she was not. And she was smart enough to follow his orders without question.

  "Young Lieutenant Vargas over there—" he nodded toward the fresh-faced kid who was attending to his wounded comrade "—says that he and his men were to meet up with Sabino's troops in Yanahuara tomorrow. So we're going to take the wounded soldier and the kid to the priest in Celendin. Vargas says that they've got a makeshift hospital set up there and are already taking care of a dozen orphans whose parents have been recently killed. Then first thing tomorrow, we three will head out to meet up with Sabino."

  "Can Lieutenant Vargas get us straight to Vincente?"she asked.

  "I doubt it, but once we're in Sabino's camp, he's promised to try to get a message through to him."

  She nodded, then fell into step behind Murdock, who lifted the wounded rebel soldier up into his arms and issued the lieutenant an order the youth instantly obeyed.

  The four-mile trek from the battlesite to Celendin was fraught with weariness, wariness and tropical warmth. Taking a break every mile proved a necessary delay. Ever mindful of the danger, both from animals and humans alike, Catherine looked to Murdock for inspiration and strength. He now revealed the side of himself that she had wrongfully assumed was the entire sum of his worth—the trained warrior, the cunning animal capable of killing in order to survive and to protect others. But she realized that this Murdock was simply a part of the whole man. And it was the complete Aloysius Murdock with whom she was falling in love. The trained soldier. The mercenary. The sophisticated Dundee agent. The reformed womanizer. The hellion who had mellowed with age. The loyal, caring friend. The passionate lover.

  * * *

  The village of Celendin, carved out of the jungle, lay in a two-mile square clearing and consisted of thatch-roofed huts and wooden buildings. The largest structure turned out to be the church and residence of the Catholic priest and village nurse, a Catholic nun.

  After leaving the wounded soldier in the makeshift clinic, Murdock told the priest that Benita's parents were dead and they had found her wandering in the jungle. He immediately agreed to keep the child and to do what he could for her.

  When Catherine set the little girl on her feet, Benita hesitated briefly, then looked up at Murdock when he explained that she'd be staying with Father Galtero.

  "No, por favor, no. Yo quiero quedarme con ustedes." As she begged to stay with Murdock, she grabbed his leg and locked her little arms just above his knee. "¡Usted sera mi padre!" She glanced over at Catherine and cried, "Ella sera mi madre. No me dejen."

  Catherine fought her own emotions, so touched by the pain she sensed in the little girl's heartfelt pleas. She didn't understand everything Benita said, but she realized the child was asking Murdock to be her father and Catherine to be her mother and pleading with them not to leave her.

  The expression on Murdock's face surprised Catherine. The stern, cold exterior of the big, bad soldier melted away to be replaced with a compassionate expression. He looked as if he were about to crack into a thousand pieces. He lifted the child up into his arms and spoke to her in a calm, gentle voice. Benita wrapped her little arms around Murdock's neck and kissed his cheek. His big arms stiffened. His jaw clenched.

  He set Benita on her feet, then placed her hand in Catherine's. "I've told her that she can't go with us when we leave in the morning, that we have an important mission and it wouldn't be safe for her to go with us. But that you'll stay with her here at the church, until she goes to sleep tonight."

  "Please tell her that I will come back for her," Catherine said.

  "I won't lie to that child!"

  "You won't be lying to her," Catherine told him. "I have every intention of—"

  "Have you lost your mind? You can't come back for her."

  Benita tugged on Catherine's hand, apparently confused by the adult argument, which she couldn't understand.

  "It's all right, sweetheart," Catherine said and smiled, then frowned at Murdock. "You're upsetting her."

  "This child came into your life less than three hours ago. You aren't thinking straight. You're allowing your emotions to—"

  "Fine! You don't have to tell her anything. I'll get Father Galtero to translate. I noticed that his English isn't too bad."

  "Do whatever the hell you want to do!"

  "I will!"

  With Benita in tow, Catherine searched for the priest. She realized that her decision to take on responsibility for Benita was sudden, not well thought out and based entirely on emotions. Maybe Murdock was right. She shouldn't make any promises she couldn't keep. But in her heart of hearts, she truly felt that this precious little girl was meant to be hers. It was as if God had personally placed the child in her arms for safe keeping.

  Murdock stalked off toward the makeshift clinic, presided over by a friendly, middle-aged nun, called Sister Naiara. After checking on the wounded rebel soldier he'd carried in from the jungle and finding him resting peacefully, Murdock met up with Lieutenant Vargas. Young Vargas knew the location of the local gin joint, a place where the village bootlegger provided a native concoction in wooden cups, served by his accommodating, nubile daughters.

  He needed time away from Catherine. The woman had his head spinning with thoughts of love and commitment and children. He felt she'd be safe at the church, at least long enough to give him some breathing room. He'd be close by so that if trouble broke out, he could get to Catherine quickly. He wished he could leave her here in Celendin while he sought out Vincente Sabino, but he didn't dare risk leaving her. What if the village was attacked while he was gone? What if something happened and he couldn't come back for her? No, regardless of the risks in taking her with him, the risks in leaving her were far greater.

  A few drinks with Vargas while they enjoyed the scenery was just what he needed. Catherine was one fine looking woman, but she wasn't the only woman in the world. He'd be better off sticking with the type he knew and didn't fear. Getting involved with Catherine was like playing with fire—and he'd already been burned by her passion.

  Murdock and Vargas entered the saloon, which was little more than a one-room shack, situated on the opposite end of the village from the church. Appropriate, Murdock thought, as they entered the poorly lit interior of the establishment. Half a dozen tables dotted the creaky, unfinished wooden floor. A toothless old man with we
athered brown skin grinned at them from where he stood behind a bar made out of logs. Vargas called out an order as he and Murdock sat down at an empty table near the door. Within minutes a black-eyed young woman, wearing a thin cotton dress and no underwear, set two wooden cups in front of them. Vargas patted the woman on the behind. She giggled and sashayed away, leaving the young lieutenant drooling.

  "If you want her, she won't cost much," Vargas said. There had been a time when Murdock wouldn't have hesitated taking advantage of the opportunity, but those days were long gone. The woman was young and pretty and more than willing. But he didn't want her. God help him, he didn't want any woman except Catherine!

  "Thanks," Murdock said. "But I think I'll pass."

  "The tall señorita, she is your woman, yes?" Vargas grinned as if he understood that Murdock didn't need the services of a whore when his own woman was only a couple of blocks away.

  "Yeah," Murdock said, then downed the strong native liquor. The homemade brew packed quite a wallop, hitting his stomach like a two-ton brick.

  "Another?" Vargas asked.

  "One's enough for an old man like me."

  Laughing, Vargas slapped Murdock on the back.

  * * *

  With little Benita glued to her side, Catherine helped Sister Naiara in the clinic. She had no experience in nursing, but with the nun's coaching, she quickly learned to take over some of the menial tasks that freed the sister for more important work. Benita eagerly assisted with feeding those too weak to feed themselves and replacing filthy, soiled linens with fresh ones, as well as sweeping and mopping the floors.

  Catherine had hesitated about letting Benita, whom Father Galtero told her was six years old, expose herself to the sick and dying patients. But the kindly old priest had reminded Catherine that this precious child had already been exposed to far worse. And being near Catherine seemed to comfort Benita.

  Father Galtero had agreed to translate for Catherine, but explained that he had told Benita that the señora wanted to return to Celendin someday and if God so willed it, that Benita could then go live with the señora. But only if God willed it to be. The loose translation had been acceptable to Catherine and welcomed with gratitude from Benita.

  As the day wore on, Catherine began picking up more and more Spanish words and phrases—from Sister Naiara, from the patients and especially from Benita. Catherine turned much of the work they shared into a game, one in which Benita taught her Spanish and she in turn taught Benita English.

  Late in the day, Sister Naiara placed her hand on Catherine's shoulder and said, "We go to eat, now. Then you and the little one will rest."

  Nodding and smiling, Catherine said, "Sí. Gracias."

  When she sat down to the meager evening meal she shared with Father Galtero, Sister Naiara, Benita and the other children, Catherine kept thinking about Murdock, wondering how he had spent his afternoon.

  Benita asked Father Galtero if she could say the blessing. With a benevolent, understanding spirit, he agreed, then afterward, translated for Catherine in a whispered voice.

  "She thanked God for leading her to you and Señor Murdock. And she asked that our Heavenly Father take care of her mother and father."

  "Has she told you when her parents were killed?" Catherine asked.

  The priest shook his head, but Sister Naiara spoke up.

  "Yes, she told me. She is most fortunate that you and Señor Murdock found her," Sister Naiara said, enunciating each word carefully.

  "Señor Murdock, he is your husband?" Father Galtero asked as he broke his bread into pieces and crumbled them into his soup.

  "No, Señor Murdock is not my husband. He is my … my traveling companion."

  The priest's deep-set brown eyes narrowed as he frowned. "A woman should have a husband. Señor Murdock is a fine man. Yes? You marry him and come back to Celendin for little Benita."

  "I—I—" How could she reply to such a statement? she wondered. "I'll certainly consider your suggestion, Padre."

  "You know what your man has been doing today?" the priest asked. "He and the young soldier, Lieutenant Vargas, have been instructing the men of our village on how to protect us if we are attacked by the government soldiers."

  Time away from Murdock had helped her put her feelings for him into the proper perspective. She was physically attracted to him. They had shared a passionate intimacy that she'd never forget. And she admired his abilities as a warrior and protector. But loving him would be a waste for them both. Plain and simple—he didn't want her love.

  Aloysius Murdock would probably rather eat glass than even consider a permanent commitment to one woman. But she was the kind of woman who wanted and needed marriage. And she truly wanted a child. This had been confirmed for her by the maternal feelings Benita conjured in her. She couldn't picture Murdock as a father. Then suddenly, the image of Benita in his arms flashed through Catherine's mind. The tender way he'd caressed the little girl's cheek and the kindness in his voice when he'd spoken to her had given Catherine a glimpse of the good man inside the hard-hearted warrior. But she also remembered the stricken look on his face when Benita had hugged him and kissed his cheek.

  She and Benita were both better off without a man like Murdock. What she and the child needed was someone they could count on not just for now, but for all the years to come.

  * * *

  Murdock stood in the doorway, his gaze riveted to the tired, disheveled woman sitting on the floor beside the pallet on which the child lay. As Catherine lifted a hand to fork through her hair that curved around her neck in disarray, he noticed that her shirt hung loosely around her hips and the sleeves were rolled up to her elbows.

  She leaned over the cot and brushed Benita's bangs out of her eyes, then caressed her cheek. The look of maternal longing in Catherine's eyes created a hard knot in Murdock's stomach. He'd seen the way she'd been with Lanny—caring, nurturing, loving. And now, here with this orphaned child, she had found an outlet for all that love inside her.

  A woman like Catherine has more than enough love for everyone in her life, he realized. Father. Child. Lover.

  She looked as weary as he felt and he suspected she longed for a bath and a soft bed. He couldn't offer her love or a long-term relationship, but he could—and would—take care of her needs for as long as possible, while she was under his protection.

  She glanced up when she heard his footsteps crossing the creaky wooden floor. No smile. No warm word of greeting. Just a look that said Take care of me.

  He reached down, grasped both of her hands and hauled her up on her feet. "Come with me, Cat."

  She hesitated, her gaze plainly revealing her reluctance to leave Benita and go with him. "I can sleep here."

  "I know you can, but you're not going to." He tugged on her hands. "You need a bath, some supper and a good night's sleep."

  "And you're going to provide all three I suppose." She issued the comment as if it were a challenge.

  "As a matter of fact, I am."

  Her eyes widened and she stared at him with renewed attention. "You aren't kidding me, are you?"

  "Come with me and find out."

  She allowed him to lead her from the room at the back of the church, used to house the orphans, and take her out into the night. Using the flashlight he had confiscated at the deserted restaurant in San Carlos to guide them, Murdock led her through the village and toward an outcropping of trees, mostly palms, with a couple of jabuticaberia trees, ripe with fruit, off to one side. The mountain terrain formed a semicircle of protection, cutting off the area from the rest of the world. A glow of warm light hovered from within the secluded thicket.

  Nestled in the center of the grove, a small tent awaited them. Large lanterns hung on high poles around the tent, illuminating the area and casting shadowy light far and wide. Catherine halted abruptly and looked from the tent to Murdock. When she heard the ripple of water, her questioning gaze intensified.

  "Lieutenant Vargas and some of the men
helped me put up the tent," Murdock explained. "We can stay the night here in relative safety. The mountains surround this spot. The only way in or out is through the village. Over there is a small pond, fed by an underground spring. And some of the women prepared supper for us."

  "I don't believe this." Catherine circled the tent. "You're a magician. You wave around your machismo and men and women alike gladly do your bidding."

  "Are you complaining?"

  "No, just making an observation." Exasperated and irritated, she threw up her hands in frustration. "Does anyone ever say no to you? Do you always get what you want?"

  "What's wrong, Cat? And don't give me some glib answer. I want to know what's really wrong with you." He came up behind her, planted his huge hands on her shoulders and leaned his head over to brush the side of her face with his stubble-rough cheek.

  She jerked away from him, then halted her retreat and faced him. "You are what's wrong with me," she admitted. "You. Aloysius Murdock. The most complicated man I've ever known. I have spent this entire day vacillating between wishing I'd never met you and wanting you to be a part of my life forever."

  "Cat … honey…"

  He reached for her. She sidestepped him.

  "I had no idea where you were this afternoon or what you were doing. I didn't know where you'd gone. Or who you were with."

  "I was at the village showing the natives how to protect themselves."

  "I know that!" When he took a step toward her, she backed away from him. "Father Galtero told me at supper what you'd been doing this afternoon."

  "I didn't know you'd already eaten," he said. "We've got a nice meal inside the tent."

  "You eat it!"

  "So, if you know you had nothing to worry about as far as where I was today, why are you so angry with me?"

  "Because … because … dammit, just because!" Flustered by his direct question, she grumbled and fumed.

  "Because why, honey?"

  "Stop calling me honey! And don't try seducing me with a tent and food and a pond where I can take a bath. It's not going to work. None of it. I have no intention of giving you an encore of this morning's performance."