Morgan glanced back and forth, checking his expression and staring down at the burning village in the distance. “No one has ever thought to shelter me from facing something horrible. This is a first. I don’t know how I feel about that.”
He could see the conflicting emotions play out on her face. Staying silent, he let her make the final decision.
“I don’t need to check the scene now,” she finally agreed. “But we need to climb down there quickly so we can help the people. I’m guessing the troops aren’t sparing women and children.”
Shaking his head again, more firmly now, he said, “All I see are men, but that doesn’t mean anything. And going down there now is not a good idea. This is an internal Taj problem. We can’t be involved. We’re not even supposed to be in their country. The soldiers will kill us on sight. And if they don’t, the Taj villagers might kill us themselves.”
But it was possible that whatever motive had brought this trouble within the Taj tribe could be used to their ultimate advantage.
“Wait.” He glanced again through the binoculars. “The soldiers are leaving. Looks like they’re taking all the motorized vehicles they can find. So much for stealing a Jeep.”
“Do you see any animals? Horses?”
Scanning the scene, he spotted a blind canyon in the distance. It would’ve been out of the view of the soldiers.
“The villagers seem to be grazing some sort of animals in that canyon to your right. But I can’t quite tell what kind. My first guess would be goats. Maybe they also keep a horse or two.”
He gave the village a once-over through the glasses again. Saw nothing moving but noted fires continued to smolder unattended. A few vehicles lay charred and abandoned on their sides on the roads.
“Let’s go find out.” Confusion left Morgan’s face and her expression returned to her usual, determined scowl.
After giving her idea some thought, he decided checking out the possibility would be worth the slight detour. If they could get in and out without being seen.
“All right,” he murmured. “But you stay behind me. And do exactly as I tell you. No questions. Agreed?”
She nodded, apparently deciding only one of them could be in charge at a time.
“Fine. Check the maps for the best route.”
They found a drop-off into a canyon to their right with easily navigated, natural steps down to the floor of the bluff. He was grateful they didn’t have to skirt past the village so Morgan wouldn’t have to face the carnage. But it took them nearly a half hour to sneak into the blind canyon where the animals were being kept in open pens.
As they crept along, the overpowering stench of burning wood, gasoline and other underlying smells he would rather not think about, reached his nostrils. He remained quiet, hoping Morgan would not insist on going closer to inspect the scene.
But she never deviated from their immediate goal, the animals in the canyon. “You were right. They’re grazing long-eared goats.” She’d made the statement with disappointment in her voice.
“Yes, but look over there near the water tank.” He pointed toward the shadows at the far wall of the canyon.
“Camels.”
Checking over his shoulder and then to the right and left, Karim started out toward a small herd of about six camels. Staked in the shade of a cliff, they were quiet next to a stock tank and a small, concrete block building.
“Hold on.” Morgan came up beside him. “Do you know how to ride a camel?”
“Not a clue. But I’ve seen it done on the internet.”
“Yeah, that’ll be a big help. I’m hoping it’s a little like riding a horse.”
He didn’t want her to know, but he had little knowledge of how to ride a horse, either. Camel, horse. What difference did it make?
Despite all his cautioning before they began, about letting him lead, he stepped back and let her go her own way. She went straight to the tank, plunged her hand in and brought back a palm full of water. Moving quickly, she offered the water to the nearest camel.
The animal grunted but lapped up the water with big, rubbery lips.
“There you go. You and I are going to be buddies, aren’t we?” She rubbed the camel’s neck.
Turning back to Karim, she whispered, “These animals have been staked using bits and harnesses. All we’ll need are blankets and saddles.”
Plus a lesson on how to saddle a camel would be much appreciated. “I read somewhere camels are fussy. They spit.”
Morgan didn’t seem to be paying attention to him. “Make friends with one,” she said over her shoulder as she moved toward the concrete building.
Friends? “What do they eat? Should I feed them?”
She stopped with her hand on the door. “I believe they’re a kind of a cross between horse and cow. They give milk, graze and chew cud. Why don’t you try cutting up an apple and offering it to that one?”
By the time she returned, lugging a couple of small saddles, he had come to the conclusion that apples weren’t their idea of snack food. But he had managed to get one to take a handful of salt bush.
Between the two of them, he and Morgan figured out how to saddle and mount the camels. She looked spectacular sitting in the saddle. Chin high. Back straight. He knew without the bedouin head scarf, her long, lush hair would’ve been streaming down her back in a proud mane. She’d said she had been a tomboy in her youth. But obviously she still knew how to sit astride an animal.
He just wished he were as competent.
But he managed. Though he was glad no one else was around to watch his comedic attempts at making the camel do his bidding.
“What direction?” Morgan asked as they left the canyon and entered the open desert range.
“Not back toward the village.” He didn’t want to take any chances of being spotted by someone who could make trouble. He also didn’t want to chance rattling Morgan by any of the sights.
He wanted her safe. Unperturbed by events. Ready to do her job. In another day they would arrive at the meeting spot. Then it wouldn’t take long to set up her shot.
Nodding to the right, he gave her his best opinion. “The road that keeps going right heads down a short pass and ends on the desert floor. That’s our best bet.”
She nodded and turned her mount in that direction. Within minutes they entered the pass. It was all Karim could do to control his animal and keep up.
They moved quietly, save for the sound of animals’ hooves against the rock, for a few minutes until Karim’s skin suddenly began to crawl. The thundering quiet made him jerk his head up as he sought out the lines of the cliffs overhead.
But it was too late. He spotted the armed men positioned directly above them and concealed in the rocks too late to make any move to draw his weapon.
“Morgan,” he said quietly.
“Yes.”
“Don’t make any sudden moves. Do not go for your rifle.”
“Wha…?” She lifted her eyes and saw the same thing he’d seen. “Why haven’t they taken any shots at us?” Her voice was hoarse, raspy.
Like spearfishing in a bathtub. “I don’t know.”
But they were about to find out. A half dozen horsemen came riding up, surrounding them. They weren’t Taj soldiers, but the men all carried rifles. And they looked angry. Uncivilized.
He didn’t care what they had in mind for him. But he suddenly discovered that it mattered very much what they did to the woman riding beside him.
Morgan. She was more than his assignment now. He must find a way to keep her safe.
Chapter 6
“This is all my fault.” Morgan was muttering under her breath, wishing she’d been smart enough to stick with who she was instead of trying to change.
The men who’d captured them had taken their weapons, then forced them, still on the camels, to a nearby water well in the desert. There she and Karim had been dragged off their beasts, their hands and feet tied, and finally they’d been left side-by-side under a
date palm.
“Quiet.” Karim’s hands were bound to his feet in hog-tied fashion. Her hands and feet had at least been tied separately.
With his head bowed, he looked terribly uncomfortable as he spoke into his knees. “So far, I don’t think they know you’re a woman. Just keep your mouth shut and maybe they won’t find out.
“Besides,” he whispered with a hiss. “Nothing is your fault. I’m the guard. It was my screwup.”
She couldn’t argue the point. Most of their botched mission this far had been his idea. But she shouldn’t have allowed him to go on making new plans and blindly following along. In fact, she never should have started out on such a fool’s mission with him after the copter landing aborted. She knew better.
“What do they want with us? Who are these men?” She kept her voice low, sure that Karim alone could hear.
“I believe they’re bedouins. Probably some of my distant cousins. But I can’t make out the dialect.
“And they seem to be waiting for something—or someone,” he added quietly.
“I thought Tarik told us that all bedouins had cleared out of Zabbarán over the last six months. Didn’t he say they left because the Taj issued death warrants for any nonnational caught in their territory?”
“That was the intel we received.” Karim seemed as confused as she was.
Great.
“If these guys are bedouins, they can’t be happy with the Taj Zabbar for making them leave their traditional territory. Do you suppose they think we’re Taj?”
“If they did…” Karim grunted as he squirmed, trying to get a look at her face. “They would’ve killed us first and asked questions later.”
Morgan swallowed that news hard. He was right again. Yet these men seemed to be building up to something. That couldn’t be good.
“What are they doing?” he asked in a soft tone. “Can you see them?”
She glanced up and squinted through the growing dusk past a scraggly bush. A couple of small boulders blocked most of the view to what she supposed was their camp. But she found a spot where she could make out one or two men walking in and out of her field of vision.
“Looks like they may be making dinner,” she told him. “I think I smell campfire smoke.”
“Good thing bedouins aren’t cannibals.”
He’d said it so seriously. So quietly. Without a trace of humor in his voice. It took her a moment to get the joke.
Even then, she couldn’t manage a laugh. But he’d tried to make her smile, and that thought warmed her heart and helped her relax a little.
He was a good man. Too bad he was also the type of man who would take off over the side of a cliff just for the adrenaline rush and never think twice.
“Do any of them seem to be checking on us while they concentrate on food?” His voice held a note of promise.
“There isn’t a guard posted nearby, no. But I would bet they’ll have guards at the perimeters of camp. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that they believe we’re no threat, tied and guarded. And I’m hoping they keep paying no attention to us.
“We need to be ready,” he added softly. “And set to move if we see the chance. Can you do something for me now? Scoot a little closer.”
Another wild scheme? Not for her. “Whatever you have in mind, count me out. I’m done following your lead. That’s how we ended up where we are now.”
He hesitated, but only for a quick second. “Morgan…darling. Listen. If we do nothing, we’re probably dead. And if they find out you’re a woman, it’ll go much worse for you. Then you may wish they had killed you instead of keeping you alive. Trust me. Doing something is better than the alternative in this case.”
He’d called her darling. No one—not ever—called her darling.
She didn’t trust him. Not anymore. But a slim chance of survival was better than sure death. What did she have to lose? “Tell me what you have in mind.”
“See if you can reach up under the pants leg on my right calf. I’ve strapped a KA-BAR to my leg with Velcro. If we can get hold of that knife, we can make plans.”
Morgan thought she knew what a KA-BAR knife looked like. As she recalled, her father had owned one for hunting. With large, long blades and stacked leather handles, that brand of knife was supposedly popular with United States fighting troops like the marines. And Karim had strapped something like that to his leg? The man definitely qualified as reckless.
Awkward as it was in this position, trying to get both her bound hands up under his pants leg, it took a few minutes to retrieve the knife. She held her breath the whole time.
At last, the swishing noise that Velcro makes when opening told her the knife had come free. “There. Got it. Now what?”
“See if you can saw through the rope between my hands and ankles. But be careful not to cut yourself.” His voice was raspy, hoarse.
“What happens if I cut you by accident?” She noted her own voice sounded breathless, winded.
“Easy, sweetheart. No need to rush. Take your time and don’t worry about me. I’d say a cut or two would be well worth it at this point.”
Perhaps he was right. Nothing to lose.
In the end, it was Morgan who bled. But her injuries came from rope burns to her wrists as she used constant pressure, struggling to cut his bindings loose. She toughed out the small pains. After all, her trigger hand was still in good shape.
At the last cut, Karim sagged a little and then sat up. “Check on the men.”
“I can’t see anyone, but now I smell food cooking.”
He took the knife from her and cut through the ropes binding his ankles with considerably less difficulty and time than her efforts had consumed. Next, they cut each other’s hands free. Karim kicked out the kinks and stood.
Rubbing at her sore and bleeding wrists, she waited until the feeling came back into her hands before letting him help her stand, too. They still wore their packs and by now hers felt like several tons of dead weight. She couldn’t imagine how Karim was holding up under his much heavier load.
“And now?” she whispered.
“Now we’re going to scout around a little. See if there’s a lone guard I can overpower so we can skulk away into the dark desert.”
That wasn’t much in the way of a plan in her opinion. Just sneaking out into the desert wouldn’t necessarily mean freedom. The two of them couldn’t get very far without weapons or transportation.
Just then she heard a small commotion somewhere nearby, and she recognized the sounds of suddenly restless horses. Maybe the animals had the same feeding and watering times as when the bedouins ate their meals.
“We need to locate the horses,” she said forcefully. “Find out where they keep the animals so we can decide if we could cut two out for a getaway without being discovered.”
“That’s a plan?”
“It’s better than no plan at all.”
Karim took her by the shoulders and stared into her eyes. “I…might not know how to ride a horse.”
Maybe it was the hesitant look she saw in his eyes for the first time. Perhaps it was the rough desire she spotted there as he gazed into hers. Or it might’ve been the way he gripped her shoulders, telling her he thought she was special. It could’ve been any of those that did her in.
Whatever it was, she surprised both of them by going up on tiptoes and dragging his mouth down to her level for a kiss.
She nipped her teeth over his bottom lip, then used her tongue to soothe the pain. Fire and ice, she thought. All just part of who she was.
Karim responded with a kiss in return, so deep and full of promise that she nearly lost her balance. Lost her grip on reality. The world spun backward. The sun and the stars shone in the sky at the same time.
But in too few seconds, he tightened his fingers on her shoulders and gently set her back.
Breathing hard, he said, “Later.”
No, not later. What had she been thinking—or clearly no
t thinking? It couldn’t happen again—not ever.
“You two finished?” A deep male voice came from behind Karim’s back. “If so, may I have a word?”
Karim felt like someone had punched him hard in the jaw, but no one had laid a hand on him yet. Spinning around to face his assailant, he shoved Morgan behind him with one hand and hefted the knife with his other. How could he have left himself vulnerable and unaware? Even in the face of the most astounding kiss imaginable, what kind of guard did that make him?
“You’re a Kadir, aren’t you?” The man standing before him speaking near-perfect English was about his size. Dark. Swarthy. Dressed in bedouin attire and standing at ease, hands behind his back.
Karim’s gut instinct told him truth would be his best choice. “I am Karim Kadir. But who…?”
The fellow stuck out his hand. “I knew it. Pleased to meet a man related to my cousins. I’m known as Kalil, sheik of the bedouin tribe called Malik Zafirah—the victorious.
“My grandfather,” he continued as he pinned Karim with a steely gaze, “was also the maternal ancestor of Tarik, Shakir and Darin Kadir. We welcome the Kadir tribe in our camps.”
Karim bent to sheath the knife before clasping the man’s hand. “Thanks. But I don’t think your men got the word about our welcome. We’ve been bound for hours.”
The sheik smiled warmly. “Sorry, old man. The men knew you were not a known threat, not Taj or another hostile tribe, but strangers to the land. They sent word for me to come and judge whether you were friend or foe.”
Karim chewed on that bit of knowledge for a moment. “How did they know? How were you sure I was a Kadir without seeing me?” He waved his hand, indicating his bedouin disguise.
“No offense, Karim Kadir, but there was no mistaking you for anyone but a foreigner. If nothing else,” Kalil dropped his gaze to Karim’s feet. “The desert boots of a western army soldier gave you away.”
Then Sheik Kalil also threw a skeptical glance toward Morgan. “And I am sorry, Miss…Miss…”
“Bell,” Karim provided. “Morgan Bell.”
“Ms. Bell. It is easy to see that your attire does a disservice to your form. A womanly disguise may have been somewhat more successful in making you appear to be bedouin, but I doubt it.”
Desert Knights Page 5
