Dawn of Valor

by Lindsay McKenna

  “You’re Rachel McKenzie. The nurse.”

  “Yes.”

  Chase added, “They told us at Taegu, my air base, that four Americans were captured. My CO mentioned you by name.” The scowl deepened on Chase’s brow. “The others? Did they get away, too?”

  She saw disapproval in his face and heard it in his voice, because she’d been captured. Internally Rachel went on guard. There were a lot of men who thought a woman’s place was at home, stateside, and not mixed up in a war. “I hope so. We went in different directions when you started strafing the truck column.” Rachel’s voice shook. “We owe you and the other pilots our lives.”

  Chase slowly eased up on his elbows. The pain increased abominably in his head. “Nobody wants to see our people fall into enemy hands.” He studied the terrain. “Where are we? How far are we from that column?”

  “I’d estimate we’re four miles from where the convoy is stalled.” She pointed to the hill behind them. “I came over that ridge. The convoy is on the other side.” Rachel felt another increment of safety since her escape. There was an alertness to his eyes that hadn’t been apparent before. Still, Chase was pale and appeared hyperalert, a symptom of concussion.

  “Then we’ve got to move. We can’t stay here. If those North Koreans send out a patrol in this direction, they’ll find us.” He turned slowly, the pain increasing across his brow, making his eyes water. “We need to go that way. South.”

  Rachel stared at where he was pointing. “That’s east, not south.”

  His mouth tightening, Chase could no longer fight the pain in his head. “You’re a nurse, not a soldier,” he snapped irritably. “South is that way.” He jabbed his finger in that direction again.

  Holding on to her anger, Rachel met and held his gaze. Beads of perspiration were dotting his furrowed brow. Chase was wrong about the directions and she knew it. But the concussion had sullied his senses. In a day or two, he might be reasonable and realize she was correct. Her own emotions were shredded, but Rachel hung on to her deteriorating patience. “I may only be a nurse, Captain, but I’m fully capable of knowing my directions. The convoy was heading due north. I went east, over the hills to escape.” She pointed behind them, toward the entrance to the valley. “That’s south. We need to go in that direction.”

  The set of her jaw reminded him of a bulldog. Chase glared at her. “You’re wrong. South is where I said it was in the first place.”

  Her nostrils flaring, Rachel gritted out, “Captain, I’m not going to sit here arguing with you. Whether you realize it or not, that concussion has scrambled your senses but good. We’re heading out of this valley, to the south.”

  Disbelief jagged through Chase. What a little hellion she was. He almost said it. How could someone with such an angelic-looking face be such a stubborn little shrew? “You may be going that way, but I’m not,” he ground out.

  “Yeah?” Even though there was a strident tone to her husky voice, a challenge in it, Rachel’s heart sank. She knew better than to go on the offensive. A belligerent look came to the captain’s face now, thanks to her loss of patience. Well, did it really matter? “Listen, our lives are at stake. There’s no way you’re going in one direction and I’m going the other. You can’t even walk by yourself, so you’re coming with me whether you like it or not.”

  Anger sizzled through Chase. “Lieutenant, you’re way out of line. I damn well know which way is south. I fly this countryside every day. I know which direction our lines are located, you don’t.” He shouldn’t have cussed in front of her. Women were to be protected; there was no excuse for cursing. Chase wanted to apologize but didn’t get a chance.

  Getting to her feet, Rachel wrapped the can in the silk and then attached it to a rear loop on her fatigues. Holding out her hand to him she said, “Get up, Captain. We’ve got to move or they’ll find us. And then we’ll both be heading north, together.”

  Such a small, delicate hand. Chase stared at her long, thin fingers and blunt-cut nails. Healing hands, he realized, attached to one of the most stubborn women he’d ever encountered. Rachel’s insult about both of them heading north stung him. “I’m giving you an order, Lieutenant. I want to go that way.”

  Grabbing his extended hand as he jabbed a final time to the east, Rachel hauled Chase to his feet. “Write me up on court martial charges for disobeying a direct order from a senior officer when we make it back safely to our lines, Captain. I’m not going east. And neither are you.” She pulled his arm around her shoulders, feeling him sag weakly against her. Groaning, she muttered, “We’re both going south. Now, come on!”

  Chapter Three

  Chase ground his teeth, fighting back pain incurred by standing. He sagged heavily against Rachel, thinking that she would buckle beneath his weight. But she didn’t. Again her strength impressed some small corner of his barely functioning mind. They tottered forward, weaving like a pair of drunks through the wooded area.

  Sunlight lanced the branches, blindingly bright to Chase’s ultrasensitive eyes. It must be because of the head injury, he thought. He didn’t like his state of weakness or the fact that he was having to lean on a woman for support. To top it off, they were heading in the wrong direction!

  “You’re going the wrong way,” Chase forced out, each step jarring waves of pain through him.

  Her lips compressed, Rachel staggered beneath his weight, keeping them upright. “I don’t have energy to waste on arguing with you right now, Captain! Try to stand up more! You’re killing me!”

  “I can’t, dammit! My legs are weak,” Chase muttered defensively, struggling to right himself more. Normally he was strong as a bull with a constitution to match. Dizziness assailed him and he fought it, trying to lessen Rachel’s load. “You make me cuss,” he growled. “Normally, women don’t bring that trait out in me.”

  “I don’t care if you cuss or not!” Rachel glared up at his sweat-bathed face. “You think my ears haven’t heard a few curses? I treat wounded or dying men every day. Believe me, Captain, I’ve heard it all.”

  Each step was agony. “That’s what I mean,” Chase gasped raggedly. “Women don’t belong in a theater of war. It’s stupid.”

  “This conversation is stupid. Use that anger and focus it on moving each foot forward!”

  What a pain in the neck she was. Chase glanced down at Rachel. Her mouth was set, her eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. Sweat was running down her temple, and it niggled his conscience. Rachel couldn’t weigh much more than a hundred pounds soaking wet, and here she was helping him and his two-hundred-pound bulk.

  Ahead, Chase could make out walls of rock with a narrow opening between them. They kept inside the tree line. Once they left the last grove, Rachel guided them among the sentrylike rocks that stood in clumps at the exit point out of the valley. Everything kept blurring and then coming back into focus. Nothing made sense to Chase. Deep down, he wondered if Rachel realized the magnitude of her mistake about their direction. No woman he’d ever met had a good sense of direction. Many were unable to read a map or even find the right street in a city. She could be leading them directly into an enemy trap.

  Suppressing a groan, Rachel doggedly pulled Chase along. His flight suit was stained with sweat, and she was concerned with his possible dehydration. At the pool, she halted, sitting him down between two huge rocks to keep him out of view.

  “Stay here, I’m going to get you some water.”

  Chase looked up, holding his head between both his hands. “Where?”

  “It doesn’t matter where!” Rachel put her hands on her hips, tired of him questioning her every decision. “Just sit there, will you?”

  Chastened, he felt like a two-year-old being scolded by his mother. Rachel looked endearing in the bulky fatigues she wore. It hurt to nod his head, and he was unwilling to fight verbally with her any longer. If they survived the patrols for the next day or two, he’d assume command and get them back on track.

  Checking the hills for patr
ols, Rachel found none and made a dash out to the pool, dipping the can into the water. Her conscience needled her as she hurried back to Chase. She shouldn’t be snarling and snapping at him. He was even paler, and as he lifted his head at her approach, she saw the pain in his eyes.

  Kneeling next to him, Rachel placed one hand on his back in a conciliatory gesture. She could feel the strength of his taut muscles beneath the khaki flight suit, and a wild urge to skim her hand along the breadth of his shoulders struck her. Stifling the desire, Rachel offered him a slight smile and pressed the lip of the can to his mouth. “Drink,” she coaxed in a whisper, her head inches from his.

  The water was warm but delicious. Chase hadn’t been aware of how thirsty he was until now. His attention alternated between drinking the water and Rachel’s closeness. Forcing himself to pay attention to the water, Chase still couldn’t ignore her musky scent or the beauty of her attentive features. Rachel had to make four trips back to the pool before he was sated. There was an economy to her graceful movements, Chase decided grumpily. He enjoyed the opportunity to watch her walk toward him as she tied the can to the parachute silk cloth attached to a loop on the waistband of her fatigues.

  Her baggy clothes couldn’t hide the rounded curve of her hips or her long legs. There was a nice athletic balance to Rachel, yet Chase wouldn’t say that she was a tomboy. No, her hair, fine strands of ebony brushing her shoulders, gave her a decidedly feminine cast. And those thick black lashes framing her glorious and defiant eyes made him aware of the scalding heat that simmered impatiently in his lower body. He longed to drown in the rich green of her eyes and explore her on a heated, intimate level.

  Rachel crouched down, her back against the other rock, a mere foot separating them. She allowed her arms to rest on her thighs and closed her eyes, catching her breath. Although her legs had recovered from the initial escape attempt, she felt them protesting again. A careless smile pulled at her mouth.

  “And I thought I was in such great shape.” She laughed with derision. “My legs feel like rubber bands.”

  “Mine aren’t much better.” Chase followed the curve of her thighs, thinking that he’d like to run his hand down their length, sure of their firmness. The unexpected thought sent a jagged bolt of longing through him, sharpening his hunger for her as a woman.

  Barely opening her eyes, Rachel studied him. “You have an excuse. You’re injured.”

  “Women aren’t supposed to be athletically fit.”

  One eyebrow raised at an imperious angle. “Oh?”

  Chase gave her a flat look. “You aren’t a man.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean, Captain?”

  He saw the set of her jaw and realized she was getting her back up again. “Women are soft. They aren’t expected to be physically fit.”

  He was like a little boy in Rachel’s eyes, sitting there spouting something that someone had taught him. “Oh, yeah? Who do you think tamed the Wild West? It was the women who really settled the West, making homes and raising families.”

  His jaw dropped. And then his eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

  A grin leaked out and Rachel laughed. “A woman, Captain Trayhern. Where I come from, women are admired for being strong, competent, intelligent and just as capable as a man. It’s obvious to me you grew up with the attitude that a woman’s entire life ought to be spent pregnant and hovering over a hot stove.”

  Her laughter was pleasant, and her lively eyes made Chase’s heart pound hard in his chest. There was a winsomeness to Rachel, a quality he’d never seen in another woman. She was part child, part woman and some other part that was far too independent for his tastes.

  “Well, my mother would disagree with you,” he flung back sourly. “She raised three sons and is proud of it.”

  “I think a woman should be proud of herself whether she’s a mother or not,” Rachel said lightly, enjoying his discomfort at being on the defensive. Chase looked as if he could take a few blows and survive nicely.

  “And that’s why you’re over here?”

  Wiping the sweat off her face with the back of her sleeve, Rachel nodded. “My parents taught me to be self-sufficient and believe in myself and my dreams, Captain. I’m here in Korea because I know men are dying. I’m very good at what I do as a surgical nurse.” She spread her hands out in front of her, studying them for a long moment. “Sometimes, speed is the determination of whether a man will live or die on that table. A good surgery nurse doesn’t fumble the instruments the doctor needs. She’s fast, cool and calm even if the world’s folding in around her.” Lifting her eyes, she held Chase’s gaze. “I belong here in Korea helping those men because I’m good at what I do, Captain.”

  Disgruntled, Chase averted his gaze, the pain rolling through his head. He closed his eyes, grateful to be sitting quietly. “I don’t care how good you are, war is no place for a woman.”

  Rachel snorted. “Captain, war is no place for a man, either. The boys who come through our MASH unit are just as injured psychologically by what they’ve seen and done as any woman would be if she was caught in the same circumstance.”

  She was too damn smart for her own good. Chase muttered, “I wish I had an aspirin.”

  “I wish I had one to give you. Your head has to be hurting a lot.”

  “Sledgehammers.”

  “I know.” Rachel reached over, settling her hand sympathetically on his slumped shoulder. “We have to keep going. Maybe, if we’re lucky, we’ll find our lines soon.”

  Chase raised his eyes, nailing her with a disgusted look. “We’re a good fifty miles inside enemy lines, Miss McKenzie. And the shape I’m in, we aren’t going to be getting back fast. It will take us three or four days, providing a North Korean patrol doesn’t find us first.”

  “Oh, dear…” She removed her hand from Chase’s shoulder.

  Chase heard anxiety in Rachel’s voice. It surprised him, because she appeared completely self-sufficient and in command, even if she was headed in the wrong direction. “You got any Irish blood in you?”

  She managed a grimace. “Yes. Does it show?”

  He melted beneath her softening features. Maybe Rachel McKenzie wasn’t a cold, efficient machine after all. Chase rallied, trying to smile for her benefit, but it turned into a line of pain. “You don’t have red hair, but you’ve sure got spirit.”

  His attempt at a smile buoyed her gloomy mood. Suddenly Rachel felt shaky inside. The feeling was new to her, and it left her confused. “Come on, we’ve got to get going,” she whispered in a strained tone.

  The feeling in the pit of her stomach worsened by the minute as she thought about how far away Chase said their lines were. Rachel kept swallowing, feeling a lump form in her throat as she pulled, tugged and supported Chase Trayhern up and over the last hill leading out of the valley. Half an hour later Rachel stared at the country before them.

  The wind was whipping through the restricted pass, and she looked into it, blinking, to see what lay ahead. The land was even more rocky and steep than what they’d come through. Scrawny trees dotted the harsh, dehydrated landscape. Rachel tried to ignore the continued unsettled feeling within her and study the region. As far as she could see, hundreds of caves appeared as dark holes carved into the hills. The sun was dipping into the west, and she squinted against it.

  “Caves,” she told Chase, keeping her grip firm around his large waist.

  “Good. We should find one large enough to hide in for the night,” he muttered. Every step increased his pain. Chase wanted nothing more than to stop and sleep.

  Licking her dry lips, Rachel took a firmer grip on his arm around her shoulder. “Come on, Captain, I see a possible candidate for us. We have to get down off this hill. We’re sitting ducks.”

  “Suits me,” he growled, forcing himself to pick up each booted foot and place it squarely in front of him.

  “How’s your head?”

  “Worse than any curse words you’ve ever heard.”

 
; “And probably worse than any cuss word you could concoct, Captain.” She swallowed hard, the nausea stalking her in earnest. What was wrong with her?

  Chase hurt too much to speak, each sound magnifying a hundredfold inside his head. He gritted his teeth, leaning heavily on Rachel.

  The first cave at the bottom of the hill fit the bill in Rachel’s estimation. It was barely five feet high but was almost ten feet in length, able to accommodate and hide two people. After throwing a few rocks into it to check for animals, Rachel helped Chase get inside. The floor consisted of smooth stone and powdery dust. She made sure he was well hidden, by the shadows, from possible patrols that might investigate the surrounding hills. The roof of the cave allowed her to crawl around on her hands and knees, but not to stand.

  To Rachel’s utter delight, there was a pool of water in the rear and a small stream that disappeared into the rock wall. Chase lay down, using his arm as a pillow for his head.

  Her nausea was becoming nearly unbearable. Rachel felt as if she had stomach flu and hurried out of the cave without explanation.

  Chase scowled, watching her brush by him. What was wrong with Rachel? He propped himself up, following her progress out of the mouth of the cave. She was pale, her eyes dark. Before Chase could speak, to tell her to be careful and watchful of possible enemy patrols, she crawled the last few feet to the dry grass in front of the cave. The sounds of retching followed. If he hadn’t felt so damned faint, Chase would have gotten up and gone to help her. Feeling helpless, he had no choice but to lie back down.

  He waited, keying his hearing to her return. It was a long time, and Chase fretted inwardly. Patrols would be out looking for them. The longer she stayed outside, the greater the chance of being spotted. Finally he heard Rachel enter the cave. He opened his eyes, pushing himself up on one elbow.