The boy sprang into action. In a blur, he quickly got the twenty goats and herded them across the shallow stream. With his staff, he headed them up the slope. He then turned and stopped in front of her.
“I am Akmal!” He thrust his hand out to her, a big grin of welcome on his face.
Shaking his hand, Rachel said, “And I am Rachel.” She turned and called to Ty, who emerged from the thickets.
Akmal became even more animated and officially introduced himself to the pilot. The boy seemed overjoyed to see them, his dark blue eyes glinting with excitement. When he noticed Ty’s left arm, the bloody sleeve, he quickly took off a long cotton scarf from around his small neck.
“Here, Captain, use this to care for your arm.”
Ty grinned and nodded.
Rachel took the scarf and fashioned it into a sling for his left arm. “We hit it lucky,” she told him under her breath. “He’s really glad to see us.”
“Make that all of us,” Ty murmured. His skin prickled where her fingers brushed his neck. “Thanks.”
Rachel turned back to the boy. “I’d appreciate your taking us to your village. We need to talk with your chief.”
“Of course,” Akmal said. “Just follow me. Our leader is Hamid. He will be very surprised you lived. Allah has blessed you! Come!”
They set off at a fast pace. The goat herd trotted quickly up the mountain in front of them. Rachel walked behind Ty and kept watch on the rear. Both had put their pistols away as a show of peace. Within twenty minutes, the stone village came into view.
Rachel was amazed at how the rock homes blended into the yellow earth and rocky slope. The creek ran to the south of the village. She estimated there were twenty homes crowded together on a high bluff overlooking the valley and river below. She saw women in burkas, children playing and a couple of scrawny dogs. Though she wondered how they managed to survive in such an inhospitable land, her admiration for the Afghan people rose once more. They were tough and enduring, no question.
“Welcome to our humble village,” the leader, Hamid, said to them.
Rachel and Ty sat with the gray-bearded elder in his rock home. Akmal had gone through the village proclaiming that the pilots were alive. Within moments, everyone had emptied out of their homes to stand in the street and greet them. To their relief, this village was clearly a safe place. Rachel had seen American clothing on all of the children. And each one wore shoes. In no time, they were shepherded to the end rock home where the elder of the village lived.
Rachel had been given a dark blue scarf to wear by one of the women before she entered the elder’s home. “Thank you, my lord. We are so very grateful that you would take us into your home,” she told Hamid. Indeed, it was warm, and finally, Rachel felt the tips of her fingers for the first time since the crash. Her uniform had dried, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough against the frigid night air.
Semeen, the elder’s wife, had her two daughters bring in plates of food for them. They handed each one a plate, bowed and then left.
Rachel thanked her, then noticed what was on the plates. It was American food—cheese, crackers and peanut butter.
Hamid said, “Please, eat. We know you are hungry.”
Usually, their customs didn’t allow this type of eating, but the leader obviously knew their plight. As Rachel and Ty dug in she asked the elder, “Do you have any way we can contact our people for help?”
Hamid shook his head grimly. “The only way to get help is to ride the trail down our mountain into the next valley and then get to the village of Samarigam.”
Rachel knew there were no radios and cell phones out in this rough, wild country. “Would it be possible to send a horse and rider to that village to get us help?”
“No. The Taliban is hunting for you. They’ve already ridden through here twice. They’ve broken down the doors of my people’s homes, looking for you.”
Rachel interpreted for Ty. He immediately frowned.
“Will they be back?” he asked.
Rachel translated.
“No. They think that you probably died and drowned in the river,” Hamid said. “But they wanted to make sure.”
“I’m sorry this happened to you and your people,” Rachel said to the old man. He was well into his sixties, his kind face deeply tanned and lined. There was a glint in his brown eyes that Rachel liked. He smiled often beneath his thick, long beard.
Hamid shrugged. “They know the Americans come here once a month. That is when they disappear. They know your Apache helicopters will destroy them. Once, there was an American Special Forces team here, but no longer. If they were here, they could call for help.”
“I understand,” Rachel said. Cheese and crackers had never tasted so good! She didn’t realize just how starved she was until now. Semeen came back with warm goat’s milk in cups for each of them and then quietly disappeared once more.
“I can keep you overnight,” the leader told her. “You will stay with us. There is medicine for Captain Hamilton if you need it. The Americans keep us supplied and we are grateful.”
Mind racing, Rachel said, “Do you have horses we can use?”
“I do. I have two very fine, part-Arabian geldings.”
Rachel always kept a plastic bag that contained Afghan money. She pulled it out of her pocket. “I don’t know how much they cost, but will this be enough?”
Hamid took the plastic bag, pulled out the thick wad of bills and counted them. He smiled. “More than enough,” he said. “Thank you for paying for them.”
Rachel knew that the money would go a long way toward making Hamid willing to help them. “You’re more than welcome.”
“If we get the horses,” Ty said, “we need a disguise. We can’t be seen riding in our flight suits or the Taliban will kill us.”
Understanding his concern, Rachel asked the elder, “Is it possible that there is enough money there to buy two sets of clothing? I must appear to be a man. If the Taliban looks at us through binoculars and sees that I’m a woman, they’ll attack us.”
Hamid chuckled. “Indeed, they would, Captain. You will need a special turban that will not only hide who you are but allow a slit for only your eyes. That way, they will not be able to tell.”
“I can handle that,” Rachel promised him.
“Unfortunately, because the Taliban comes without warning, I’m going to have to take you to where we keep our herd of goats at night. There is a small room in there where you can hide.” He frowned. “By Muslim law, a man and woman should not be together, but for your safety, this is best.”
“I understand,” Rachel murmured. “We’re grateful you would help us.” As she drank her warm goat’s milk, her mind spun with shock. She’d be in a small room with Ty. They’d probably be sleeping together with a few blankets given by the villagers to keep them warm tonight. The sudden realization that she’d be in close quarters with him sent a frisson of fear through her. And on its heels, desire. Desire? Reeling, Rachel felt torn with indecision. That wasn’t at all like her. Suddenly, her whole world had been upended.
Chapter 12
Rachel tried to keep disappointment out of her voice when Akmal showed them the small room off of the corral. The room was actually warmed by the thirty bleating goats. Most were bedded down for the night. Akmal pulled open the heavy wooden door with a leather strap.
“This will keep you safe in case the Taliban arrive at dawn. They hurt our people, steal our food and the grass we’ve pulled and dried for our goats to feed their horses.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust.
Rachel put her hand on the young boy’s thin shoulder. “This is fine. Will you come and wake us up tomorrow morning?”
“I will if the Taliban does not ride through,” he promised. Moving into the narrow room, Akmal said, “Be sure to push the sacks and wooden boxes against the door. That way, if the Taliban comes in and pulls this door open, they will not realize you are hidden deeper inside the room.”
Rachel sh
ivered inwardly. “We will,” she promised.
“Good night,” Akmal said, lifting his hand.
The outer door to the barn closed. Rachel looked around. They had a small oil lamp that cast a very small amount of light, and she was grateful for the warmth. The smell wasn’t bad because Akmal swept the floor clean every morning after the goats were let out to graze for the day.
Ty was already in the room, rummaging around, and she felt some of her terror receding. Hamid and his wife had fed them well, giving them both newfound strength. She walked into the room and set the lamp on a small shelf on the right wall.
“Need some help?” she asked.
Ty picked up a bunch of used gunnysacks that had UN painted on them. “Yes, you’re going to have to get the crates out of here. I’m useless with my left arm in a sling.”
She took the sacks from him and laid them near the door. “How are you feeling?”
“A helluva lot better,” he told her. Straightening, Ty looked over his shoulder at her. Rachel’s hair had been smashed by wearing the scarf. Still, her cheeks were rosy and her eyes sparkled. “Hot food in a safe place does wonders, doesn’t it?”
“No question. We got lucky. Why don’t you egress out of there, and I’ll take care of those empty crates?”
Nodding, Ty backed out. With his left arm in a sling, the pain had stopped. Hot food had filled his growling belly, and the strength from eating it had been immediate. Rachel slid past him, her hips brushing against him. “I’ll get the blankets and bring them in,” he told her. His body tingled where she’d barely grazed him. The thought hadn’t escaped Ty that they’d be lying very close to one another in a very narrow room. He pushed those feelings aside and forced himself to concentrate on getting the blankets and pillows that Semeen had given them.
In no time, their digs were in order. Rachel wiped the perspiration from her brow. “Come on in. I need you in here so I can build our wall.”
Ty had brought the bedding in earlier. Stepping inside, he watched as she shut the door to the room and quickly built a wall with the empty wooden crates and grain sacks. They had been filled with food and other supplies from the United States. He knew all the crates, over time, would be broken down and used as firewood. Nothing was ever wasted out in this inhospitable area of the world. He got busy and spread the blankets across the dirt floor.
“There,” Rachel said, pleased. “Does it look secure to you?” She picked up the oil lamp and brought it over to another wooden shelf jutting from the rock wall above where they would sleep.
Ty smiled. The woman had creatively used the fifty or so gunnysacks and hung them in such a way that no one could see through the wooden slats. There were two rows of crates to create a wall before anyone could get to them. “Good job,” he praised.
He was sitting on the right side of their bed. Her heart beat a little harder in her chest as she went to sit by him. “This is really tight quarters,” she muttered, uncomfortable.
“It is, but we’ll make it work.” Ty looked around. “The temperature is going to fall to near freezing.” He picked up the two wool blankets that would be spread across them. “We’re going to need these.”
Ty had already taken off his Kevlar vest. His pistol was sitting on top of it, easy to reach. Rachel did the same. “God, it feels good to get out of this chicken plate,” she griped. “I’ll use it as a pillow.”
“That stuff is so heavy,” Ty agreed. “I’m leaving my boots on.”
Rachel pushed her uncombed hair out of her face. “Yes. If something happens…”
“I think we’ll be safe here tonight,” Ty said, seeing the stress in her shadowed gold eyes.
Rachel didn’t feel safe next to him. But she didn’t say anything. He had taken his next set of pain pills, and he seemed relaxed but exhausted. He had more color to his face, and his blue eyes were clear. “I’m so tired,” she uttered more to herself than him. Every movement took effort.
Ty laid down on his right side. He moved his injured left arm so that it was supported by his hip. “Makes two of us.”
“I’m just glad Akmal has promised to stay up and watch for Taliban. I trust that if he hears them, he’ll come and wake us up so we can escape before they arrive.”
“The Taliban doesn’t travel at night,” Ty said. He watched Rachel lie down on her back. She then pulled the thick, wool blankets over them.
“Well, they do. Ask any Special Forces outpost over in Afghanistan, along the border,” she muttered.
“Not on horseback, though. Remember, Hamid said the Taliban only ride in this area. They’re not on foot.”
Sitting up, Rachel picked up the oil lamp and blew out the flame. The room fell into a thick darkness. She carefully set it back on the shelf and lay down. The wool blankets were warm. “I know. But one thing we’ve learned about the Taliban is that they are creative, and you can’t rely on them to do the same thing over and over again.”
Closing his eyes, Ty was inches from her left shoulder. He inhaled the perfume that was only Rachel. The pillow kept his head raised, and he no longer had a headache. He hungrily absorbed the warmth radiating from her body. Not because Rachel was warm, but because he was powerfully drawn to her. When had the past disappeared and the present taken over? Ty didn’t know. Like a thief and a beggar, he slowly inhaled her scent. It was like sucking life back into his numbed body. Rachel was life, he decided.
“You know,” Ty began in a quiet tone, “you’re an incredible woman.”
The reverberation of his voice flowed through Rachel. She kept her eyes closed because she was exhausted. Yet, she felt wired. Her mind was wide awake. Her body was begging for sleep and rest. “Thanks,” she murmured. It was a far cry from him trying to embarrass her in front of the other students at flight school. What had changed? Had they both grown up? Matured beyond their torment-filled pasts? Rachel hoped so, because she had no energy to continue to hold Ty Hamilton at bay. Their lives were on the line every second now.
Ty slowly rolled over on his back. “I can’t sleep,” he said, unhappy.
“Me neither. It’s adrenaline.”
“Yeah. Damn.”
Smiling tiredly, the darkness so complete Rachel couldn’t see her hand an inch from her face, she said, “I feel safe here, though.”
“Yes, so do I.…”
Their voices were soft, so the sound didn’t carry. Rachel could hear the bleat of a goat every now and then, but it sounded very far away. “I’m glad the walls are four-feet-thick rock.”
“Makes two of us.”
Her hand was touching his. With Ty on his back, there was no way to avoid contact. Rachel soaked up Ty’s nearness. Heat rolled off his body, and she was comfortably warm. Even though the winds were blowing outside at this altitude, the rock barn kept them at bay.
“I remember when we were kids growing up that we’d take cardboard boxes and string my mom’s sheets across them and make a house. My sisters and I played house for hours like that. This place kind of reminds me of that.”
Ty heard the wistful tone in her voice and realized just how much he liked finding out more about her. “After my mom died,” he said “play wasn’t something my father had in mind for me.”
“I think it’s hard to be an only child,” Rachel said.
“To hear my father tell it, children were good for only one thing—work.”
Alarmed, Rachel said, “What?”
“It’s a long story,” Ty said. Yet, he felt the urge to tell her. Somehow, he knew Rachel would understand. “My father saw two things in me—football captain and worker bee.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Rachel said, frowning.
“I didn’t mind. It kept me busy. It kept my mind off losing my mom as I grew up.”
Her heart squeezed with compassion. “Do you remember your mother?”
“Vaguely,” he said, closing his eyes. “I have a few photos of her. My father wasn’t big on taking pictures. He said it cost money to get the p
ictures put on paper.”
“I’m so sorry he was cruel to you,” Rachel said, her mind spinning.
Ty turned his face toward her, his voice thick with regret. “I’m the one who owes you one hell of an apology, Rachel. You aren’t weak. You’ve been the strong one here.”
Rachel felt like someone had struck her in the chest with a hammer. All through flight school, he parroted the very opposite to her on a daily basis. He screamed hateful words in her face. She had to stand at attention and take it without responding. All it did was make Rachel more determined to win her wings. “No woman is weak,” she said with emotion.
With a sigh, Ty whispered, “You’re right.…” He was remembering how he treated Rachel in flight school. Guilt washed through him.
“What changed your mind about us?” Rachel asked.
“I had five years to see women differently,” Ty muttered. “After I was booted out of flight school, I was assigned to a Chinook squadron that had women and men pilots. Over time, I saw the women were just as good, sometimes better, than a man at the controls. My father was so filled with grief over the loss that he was taking it out on me.”
“I remember. You were his whipping post,” Rachel said, sadness in her tone. She itched to reach out and curve her hand around Ty’s. She stopped herself. There was still a lot of pain from their past, so Rachel couldn’t bring herself to do that.
“Yes, I guess I was. My father was lost without my mother. I realize that now. I didn’t then.”
“Well.” Rachel snorted. “You were a child who had lost his mother, too. I would think your father had enough maturity to realize that.”
“No, that didn’t happen,” Ty admitted. He rested his arm across his closed eyes. So many images and a gamut of feelings flowed from that time in his life. Somehow, just talking to Rachel soothed his injured heart.
“I still can’t believe he wouldn’t comfort you,” Rachel said, disbelief in her voice. “Didn’t he know you had to grieve? To cry for the loss of your mom?”
“When I cried, he’d whip me with a belt. He’d tell me to stop crying. Eventually, I choked down my grief. He hired a housekeeper by the name of Charleen Turner, who took over the cooking, cleaning and taking care of me.”
His Duty to Protect Page 12
