“We’re getting Apache escort today,” Ty said, plugging his helmet connection into the radio system. He turned and gave the signal that the ramp was coming up. The goats were secure, and the men stood away from the ramp area.
“I saw that on the orders,” she said. “I’m assuming you’ve done the walk around?”
“Done and we’re looking good,” he answered.
“Roger.” For whatever reason, Rachel felt calm in the cockpit. Usually, she was tense, especially with Hamilton next to her. Today was different. Was it that stupid, ridiculous dream? Rachel shook her head and pulled out the preflight information. There was a working ease between them, which hadn’t happened before. Maybe yesterday’s verbal explosion had cleared the air. She certainly felt better letting Hamilton know just where she stood.
The bleating of the Angora goats was drowned out as Rachel brought the first engine and then the second one online. To her left, she saw an Apache trundling up, fully loaded with weapons. How Rachel wished she was over there and not here!
“Goat One to Goat Two,” she called to the Apache.
“Goat Two here…” The woman pilot gave a “baaahhhhhh” over the radio.
Rachel broke into laughter. She glanced over at Hamilton, who was laughing, too. How handsome he looked when he smiled. She couldn’t ever remember seeing him laugh. Then again, she had no business noticing him. She devoted her attention to talking with her friend, Nike. “Hey, you got goats over in Greece, doncha?”
“Roger that, Goat One,” Nike snickered. “Over.”
“Well, good to have this goat jamboree all working together. Nice to have you along, Nike. Over.”
“Roger that, Goat One. Is your cargo looking happy about all this? Over.”
“Negative, Goat Two.” Rachel twisted around and looked at the crates beneath the thick cargo netting. It was barely light in the hold, but she could see them. “They’re looking pretty wild-eyed. Over.”
“Goat One, do you think someone with a sense of humor picked today’s call sign? Over.” Nike was chuckling.
Hamilton’s grin widened. “Goat One to Goat Two. Roger that. I’m to blame. Over.”
Rachel smiled to herself as her hands flew over the instruments with knowing ease before they were to take off. She hadn’t ever seen Hamilton’s sense of humor, but she liked it.
“Goat One, you are the man! Over.”
Nodding, Ty glanced over at Rachel. She was still grinning. The iciness that always hovered in the cockpit between them had miraculously disappeared. He ardently absorbed the warmth between them, finally tearing his gaze from Rachel’s soft features.
“Goat Two, we’re ready to get this goat train airborne. You ready to take off first? Over.”
“Roger that, Goat One. We’re outta here. Meet you at six thousand feet,” Nike said. And then she added, “Baaahhhhhhh…”
Rachel laughed uproariously. “Roger that, Goat Two. See you upstairs. Out.”
Ty sat back. Happiness thrummed through him. And relief. In no time, after the Apache had rolled down the airstrip, gathering speed and finally lifting off at the end of it, it was their turn. The CH-47 shook and shuddered. The thunderous roar of the engines was muted by their helmets. Ty looked back to see how the goats were dealing with the rolling takeoff. They seemed to have quieted down.
Once airborne and at flight altitude, Rachel was happy to have the Apache flying a large circle around them. She knew Nike and her copilot had on infrared to spot heat from bodies down on the rugged mountain slopes. They also had instruments to detect a SAM missile being fired. She relaxed as never before because the Apache was the big, bad guard dog in the sky.
“I was wondering if you ever have been around goats,” Ty asked Rachel over the intercom.
Smiling a little as she flew, Rachel said, “No. I grew up with aquariums of fresh-water and salt-water fish. My father loves fish.”
“I grew up in Cheyenne, Wyoming where my parents owned a cattle ranch.”
Rachel found herself curious about Hamilton. She knew nothing of him. And the two-hour flight would go faster if they had a conversation. “So, you’re a cowboy?”
Chuckling, he said, “Yeah, among many other things. When you grow up on a ranch, you do everything from digging postholes, setting new fence, to stringing barbed wire, milking cows and fixing ranching equipment.”
Somehow, Rachel hadn’t ever thought of Hamilton as anything but the screaming flight instructor. Now, this presented a whole new facet of him. “I wasn’t around too many animals. Just the fish—and Polly, my mother’s beautiful parrot. Not a very creative name, but I grew up with Polly. No cattle, though.”
“We had milk goats,” Ty hesitantly admitted, filing away Rachel’s information. He felt starved to make a human connection with her, one that wasn’t filled with anger and dredging up their past. “My mother had the goats because they provided milk for children who were lactose intolerant and couldn’t drink cows’ milk.”
“I’ll bet she had you out there milking them,” Rachel said. At least his mother sounded like a nice and thoughtful person. So how had Hamilton turned out to be so…complicated?
“I don’t really remember the goats too much,” he admitted in a quieter tone. “My mom died of uterine cancer when I was three years old. My dad got rid of the goats shortly after that.”
Her heart plummeted over that information. Glancing quickly to her left, she saw him become sad and withdrawn. She wondered how he handled growing up without a mother. She couldn’t imagine losing her mother, Kit. That would have been a horrible sentence for him to bear as a three-year-old. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she murmured, meaning it. When she saw him nod, his mouth pursed, Rachel realized that he still missed her. Who wouldn’t miss their mother?
“How did your father cope?” Rachel asked.
Hamilton shrugged. “It wasn’t pretty. Looking back on it all, I don’t think many men can lose their wife and then be saddled with a three-year-old kid.”
The incredible grief in his voice startled her. The visor was drawn over the upper half of his face, so she couldn’t see the expression in his eyes. The corners of his mouth were drawn in, no doubt sealing in his pain. Some of her hatred of him dissolved just knowing this past history. “I’m really sorry to hear that,” Rachel admitted. And she was. Abandonment could have played a huge part in his growing-up years. She could only imagine the impact her death must have had on him.
Trying to rein in her curiosity, she asked, “Did your father remarry?” If he had, Hamilton would have at least had a stepmother figure in his life.
Hamilton gave an abrupt laugh, one tinged with bitterness. “No. He was a mean son of a bitch, and all he cared about was the family name and carrying on the hundred-and-fifty-year-old ranch tradition of our family.”
Rachel cringed. She heard the sudden hardness, the yearning in Hamilton’s tone. “Did you have brothers? Sisters?”
“No, I was their first and only child.”
Rachel moistened her lips. She continued to rubberneck and watch sky and ground, just as Hamilton was doing. More sets of eyes meant less chance of the Taliban firing at them without being seen first. “It must have been tough as an only child, then,” she suggested.
“Let’s just say that my father didn’t like a crying little boy who had suddenly lost his mother.”
“He was grieving just like you, I’m sure,” Rachel said, hoping to ease the hurt she heard. “When you love someone and suddenly lose them… Well, it’s hard. Really hard.” She knew better than most, too.
“Let’s put it this way, Captain Trayhern. My father blamed me for my mother’s death. Oh, looking back on it now, he was wrong, but when you’re a little kid, you believe your parent.”
“That’s wrong! You didn’t cause her cancer,” Rachel whispered fervently.
Giving her a glance, Ty heard and felt her compassion. Her soft lips were parted. In that moment, he ached to crawl into her arms and simply be he
ld. It was such a startling thought that he sat up a little straighter. What was going on here? There was no way Rachel would ever like him. Hell, she hated him. And for good reason. Still, in that explosive moment of actually talking with one another, the need rose in him. He simply didn’t know what to do with it. “Sure it was wrong,” he mumbled.
“So you grew up being accused and reminded that your mom was dead because of you?” Rachel asked, disbelief in her voice.
“My father didn’t accuse me of it daily. Only a couple of times…”
“What a lousy parent he was. You never saddle a child with something horrendous like that.”
“My father continued to remind me that women were the weak species. They didn’t have what it took to be strong and survive in this hard world of ours.”
Stunned, Rachel tried to absorb that information. No wonder he had this prejudice against women. She knew she had to be careful with her words. “And you were young and believed him.”
“Sure I did,” Ty muttered. He lifted his hands in frustration. “I believed him body and soul until five years ago.”
Wincing inwardly, Rachel suddenly wished they didn’t have this mission. How badly she wanted to have time to understand the roots of Hamilton’s actions. They had started with an angry, grieving father. And being the little boy he was, he’d believed his father. Women were weak because his wife had died of cancer. She’d left him with Ty, who was an innocent, grieving child. Gulping several times, Rachel fought the tears jamming into her eyes. She was grateful her visor was down and he couldn’t see her face.
There was nothing she could say. His belief that women were weak had all come to a roaring halt when she’d fought back. And won. Had Hamilton really let go of his prejudice toward women? Was he really a changed man? After a week in his company, Rachel admitted that he wasn’t anything like the strident flight instructor of five years earlier. Still, her heart warned her to remain on guard. Could someone who carried such an intolerance suddenly change?
“Ah, Goat Land ahead,” Ty teased, trying to lighten the atmosphere. He pointed ahead at a high mountain valley. “There’s our village.”
Rachel struggled for a moment before she could speak. When she did, her voice was oddly hoarse. “Goat Land? You’ve got a wicked sense of humor, Captain.”
He glanced over and managed a smile. “Dark humor at best.” Seeing her lower lip tremble, Ty felt his heart wrench in his chest. And then he saw the track of tears down her cheek. Her voice had been raspy, but he hadn’t put it together until now. Crying. She was crying for him.
Chapter 8
Upon landing at Samarigam, Rachel was swept up in the village’s excitement. To her surprise, Khalid and Emma had already flown in, their helo having landed nearby. They had transported in twenty bleating Angora goats. Some of her levity was dampened by the uneasiness that Hamilton had shared so much of himself with her. Now, she saw him differently.
“Go ahead and meet and greet,” Hamilton urged her. “I’ll work with the crew and the villagers to off-load these crates of goats.”
Rachel nodded and quickly moved between the fuselage and crates. After placing a green scarf over her head to honor Muslim tradition, she eagerly walked down the ramp. Outside, the villagers had gathered, their faces alight with joy over receiving such an expensive gift from the United States. Threading through them, Rachel found Emma and Khalid at the corral with the elders. Before approaching them, she greeted the four old men, the elders, of the village. Protocols were important. They shook her hand and greeted her in return. Emma was smiling as Rachel came toward her.
“Hey, Cousin, look at this!” Emma threw her arms around Rachel and hugged her tightly. Releasing her, she laughed. “We did it!”
Rachel beamed at her. “You did. A dream come true.” She turned to Khalid, who was still in the U.S. Army, wearing the flight uniform. His face lit up with pleasure. As Rachel moved to shake his hand, his arms went around her, and he hugged her.
“Welcome, Rachel,” he said, releasing her.
“Thanks, Captain Shaheen,” she said.
“Out here, call me Khalid. You’re my family now. Let’s drop Army protocols when we can, shall we?”
“Fine with me,” Rachel said.
They led her over to the four-foot-high corral.
“This village will have forty-five Angora goats,” Emma said excitedly. “Khalid and his sister Kinah have been working two years to make this dream into a reality.”
Rachel saw that the rest of the villagers hung on the wooden fence, staring in disbelief at the white animals. The children were on their hands and knees, peeking between the slats, eyes wide with excitement. “This is a great day,” she agreed. Khalid’s arm went around Emma’s shoulders and he hugged her, his face bright. “So, the widows get the wool to make sweaters?”
Emma nodded. “There are several surrounding villages to Samarigam. They’re all the same clan. Khalid has a written contract agreement with the elders from six villages that the widows will receive the wool from these goats every year. Each woman will get enough to make ten sweaters.”
“And then,” Khalid said with a smile, “they will be sold through our nonprofit organization around the world. The widows receive seventy-five percent of the money. This will not only keep them from starvation, but it will also feed their children. No one will die. And the money the widows spend in their village on goods circulates through the local economy. It’s a win-win for everyone.”
Smiling, Rachel noted the joy in Khalid’s expression. He was lean as a snow leopard, terribly handsome, and she was so happy for Emma. They were truly a happily married couple, who held the same vision for the people of Afghanistan. “That’s incredible.”
“We have Kinah to thank,” Emma told her. “She’s set up distribution through the U.S. for all the sweaters. And she has hired three women who will be coming here to teach the widows the patterns and how to knit them.”
“You’ve thought of everything.” Rachel looked at the goats moving around in the large, circular corral. The children had brought handfuls of green grass gathered from the hillside. The goats were settling down, anxious to eat.
“Here comes the rest of the herd,” Khalid said, motioning to the village men hand carrying the crates off the Chinook.
Stepping aside, Rachel watched a long line of men struggling with each crate. The goats bleated, terrified as they were carefully carried. One by one, each crate was taken into the corral and the goats released. Upon finding their own kind already there, the animals lost their fright and eagerly crowded in to grab a few bits of grass offered by the children at the fence.
Overhead, an Apache flew in large circles around the village. It was searching for infrared signatures of human beings who could be Taliban in hiding. The enemy could lie in wait to lob a grenade at one of the two Chinooks on the ground. Craning her neck, Rachel saw the last crate leaving the ramp of her helo. Hamilton was standing by it. He was alert, looking around. It was never safe to be on the ground for long.
“How safe is Samarigam?” she asked Emma.
“Very safe. Khalid chose this village because the Taliban has not been here at all.”
Khalid looked up at the Apache as it passed over them. He then glanced over at Rachel. “That doesn’t mean it’s safe flying here or back. It’s Taliban country, big time.”
“That’s what I thought,” Rachel said. She saw Hamilton gesturing for her to come back to the helo. “Excuse me, my boss is wanting to see me.”
Hurrying through the happy crowd of villagers, who watched each release of the Angora goats, Rachel finally broke free of the people and noticed the worried expression on Hamilton’s face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, coming up to him.
Hamilton looked in the cavernous hold of the helo. “Both our crewmen are sicker than dogs.”
“What?” Alarmed, Rachel stepped onto the ramp. Both crewmen were sitting and looking very pale.
�
�They’ve been throwing up. A lot of nausea. I don’t know why.”
“Emma and Khalid are flying back to Bagram. A straight shot from here. We could ask them to take them to the hospital there.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Hamilton agreed. “Could be food poisoning. They both said they ate tuna sandwiches for breakfast this morning.”
Rachel wrinkled her nose. “For breakfast? What a horrible thing to eat!” And there was a chow hall so everyone could get eggs and bacon. Shaking her head, she muttered, “Twenty-somethings…”
Hamilton smiled a little. “I’m going to call back to base and let Ops know. Since I’m the commander of the squadron, I can release them to Bagram and Khalid’s helo.”
“Good. You want me to tell Emma and Khalid? I’m sure they won’t mind.”
“Yes, can you?” He hesitated. “It leaves us open, though. We won’t have a ramp gunner watching for the Taliban.”
“I know,” she said. “But they aren’t going to be any good to us sick, either.”
Nodding, Ty knew she was right. “Okay, you make sure it’s okay with them, and I’ll make the radio call to Camp Bravo.”
Once she heard the situation, Emma shook her head. “These young guys are really dumb sometimes. Mayonnaise is a real lethal food-poisoning ingredient if it hasn’t been chilled at the right temperature.”
“Tell me about it,” Rachel said.
“We’ll take them to Bagram,” Khalid said. “Just ask them to walk over and make themselves at home in our bird.”
“Thanks,” she told them. “We really appreciate this. Otherwise, we’d have to detour and fly a lot longer than we expected.”
“Not to worry,” Emma said, putting her hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “The U.S. Army isn’t going to say anything. They don’t care if they’re flown in a civilian Chinook or not.” She grinned.
“Something nice about being a civilian, isn’t there?” Rachel teased her red-haired cousin.
“Oh, yes.” Emma smiled warmly up at her husband. “It’s very nice.”
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