“We shouldn’t waste any daylight.”
He blew out a frustrated breath. “Lady, when did you become the guide?”
“Well, I—I…”
Bringing his paddle out of the water, he twisted around to face her. She still clutched his ball cap in her hand. “Put the hat on now, or I’ll do it for you.”
Her eyes grew even wider at his harsh tone. She opened her mouth to say something, but thankfully snapped it closed and gingerly placed the hat on her head.
“If you lose my hat in the river, I’ll throw you overboard to go get it. Put it on! I don’t have time to babysit a woman who has second-degree burns on her face from the sun. We’ll go back if I have to. Lady, that’s a promise.”
She pushed the bill down low on her forehead. “Second-degree burns? But I’ve used my sunscreen.”
“When was the last time?”
She checked her watch and grimaced. “Almost two hours ago.” Touching her face delicately with her fingertips, she asked, “Am I red?”
“You see that tree over there.” He gestured toward the shoreline where they were heading, at a red flowering jacaranda. A Jabiru stork stood guard over her large nest in its branches, a spot of white in a sea of red. “Another fifteen minutes in the sun and you’ll rival it. The nearest clinic is a day back down the river.”
She frowned. “You’ve made your point.”
She paused for a long moment, mumbling something Slader couldn’t hear—no doubt, another one of her prayers.
“Thank you for the use of your hat. I can share my sunscreen with you.”
Strangely, her offer touched a place deep in his heart, which had hardened years ago. He didn’t know what to say so he turned forward and remained silent.
“Mr. Slader.”
He shuddered at the word mister. It made him sound civilized, and he knew he wasn’t anymore. That part of him had died, along with all that he had cared about once.
“You didn’t answer my question. Why are we stopping?”
This time he counted to twenty before answering in what he hoped was a neutral voice, “Because it will take time to set up camp and I know this place is much better for that than the next twenty miles upriver. When the sun goes down, it goes down fast. So, is it all right with you if we stop for the night?” He really hadn’t intended to throw in that last question, but he couldn’t help himself. He liked ruffling her feathers. He almost felt alive when they locked horns, so to speak.
“Yes, I guess this will be okay,” she answered as though she were an expert on the Amazon and the river they were traveling.
When they landed on the sandy beach, Pedro brought the canoe up on land. Kate found some shade and put her backpack down, again pressing her fingertips to her face as though testing it for redness even though she couldn’t see it.
It was nice to see Slader had finally gotten her attention concerning wearing his hat. He ran his hand through his hair, which felt strange since he was so used to wearing his Yankee ball cap. It had been through a lot with him. It was his last link to home, to the life he had once led and left behind.
After they set up camp, which mainly consisted of stringing up their hammocks and building a fire, Pedro began fishing. Another flock of birds flew up into the sky down the river, as though they had been frightened. Miguel made a comment to Slader about the unusual activity, the third such comment in the past hour.
He observed the flight of birds, not one species but many. The hairs on the nape of his neck rose. He didn’t like the feeling he was getting in his gut. Someone was following them.
Chapter Six
The sun appeared as though it were a large yellow ball hovering right above a green carpet to the west. Mr. Slader returned from a trek into the jungle, having been gone for ninety interminable minutes. Kate knew this because she had been pacing the beach for the past fifteen of those minutes wondering where the man was. When she saw him, she expected his arms to be full of food—what else could he be doing? Instead, he carried one cluster of palm nuts.
Trying to ignore the rumbling in her stomach, she hurried over to him. “Miguel went off in the other direction. Maybe he’ll have better luck finding something to eat.” She took the nuts, trying not to think of how hungry she was. If this was all he could find in the jungle after being gone for so long, what was going to happen when they ran out of the food they had brought? Suddenly she wished she were stronger and could carry more than the twenty pounds.
Mr. Slader didn’t say anything, and his silence alerted Kate. Something wasn’t right. She stooped in the sand by the fire, preparing the palm nuts so they could eat them. “What aren’t you telling me?”
One of his eyebrows shot upward. “Very perceptive.”
She waited for him to tell her. He didn’t. “I’m paying you to guide me, not protect me from the truth.”
He jabbed his machete into the sand, its hilt facing upward. As he checked his shotgun, making sure it was loaded, alarm bells blared loud in Kate’s mind. She curled her hands in the sand by her legs and waited for him to tell her what was really going on.
Finally, he said, “We’re being followed. I went back to see who it was.”
“And?”
“Slick is one of the party. There are three others, all lowlifes who work for the highest bidder,” he answered, calmly stuffing shotgun shells into his pockets. “And Slick doesn’t have the kind of money to hire them. So, who does? And more importantly, why?”
Frustration and fear churned in Kate’s stomach. “I don’t know! Believe me, if I did, you would be the first I would tell.”
“I hope so, because I’m putting my life on the line right along with yours.” He placed his shotgun in easy reach.
His sentence brought home to her how much danger they were in. She wished she knew who was after her and why, then maybe she could do something about it. But she didn’t know even where to begin formulating a list of suspects. She needed Zach. It had to revolve around her brother somehow. “What are you going to do about those men following us?”
“Nothing. It’ll be completely dark soon. Too dangerous for us to travel on this river, but that also means it’s too dangerous for them, too.”
“How about over land? If you could get to them in forty-five minutes, they can get to us.”
“True. But in the dark it isn’t easy to travel in the jungle. Besides, I knew where they were. I don’t think they’re sure where we are.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“Going back to Mandras now doesn’t seem an option even if we wanted to. We’ll continue upriver for a while longer, then cut through the jungle. If we cover our tracks, they may not realize what we’re doing.”
Kate shivered. Even though the air was hot, she continued to perspire profusely. She peered off across the river and noticed the streaks of orange and red in the darkening sky. Now that it was dusk, the mosquitos and tiny fly population increased on their small, sandy beach, swarming about her face and any exposed skin. She quickly reapplied the insect repellant she’d brought, which offered only marginal relief.
Mr. Slader added a few more logs to the fire, several wet ones, causing smoke to billow upward. “This should help some with the insects.”
“Won’t the fire give our location away?”
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take. As I said, it wouldn’t be safe traveling overland or by this river in the dark. Slick isn’t smart, but he isn’t a fool, either.”
Total darkness fell quickly as though someone had pulled down a shade, shutting out all light. Pedro waded to shore with his catch, his smile broad. Miguel returned from the forest with several mangoes and coconuts. Mr. Slader set about preparing their meal, offering Kate the fire-roasted fish and slices of fruit with the palm nuts.
She stared at her plate, her stomach protesting its hunger. “What kind of fish is this?”
“A piranha.”
“As in razor-sharp teeth?”
“Very tast
y—the flesh that is, not the teeth.”
Even with the insect repellant on, mosquitoes landed on her. She slapped at her neck while she continued to glare at the piece of fish. She knew she needed to eat it even though the smell and taste repulsed her.
“I doubt I’ll run into a chicken anytime soon,” Mr. Slader said. “And you made it clear how you felt about turtle meat, a good source of protein in the jungle, I might add.”
After giving thanks to the Lord for the food, Kate consumed everything but the fish, then after studying it for a few minutes as though that would make it change into the chicken she so desired, she dug into the piranha, determined to down it to keep up her strength. They had men following them. She had to.
She choked on the first couple of bites, then with swigs from the treated water in her canteen, she managed to finish everything. Proud, she presented her empty plate to Mr. Slader.
He nodded toward the river twenty feet away. “You might want to wash it.”
“In there?” She pointed to what she knew was muddy water even though she couldn’t see it in the dark.
“Use the sand as soap. I’ll show you.” He rose and walked toward the river.
As she followed him, more insects landed on her, and she felt some bites even through her clothing. At the river’s edge, she did as Mr. Slader did, dipping her plate into the water, then her hand into the sand at her feet. Rubbing it into the metal, she scrubbed the tin plate clean, then washed off the sand. Everything she had learned in home economics class had been tossed out as though civilization no longer existed, she thought as she trudged back to their makeshift camp, glad for its fire, which offered light in the pitch-black night and some protection from the bugs that feasted on her.
Back in the smoke-filled air, Mr. Slader fed the fire with more damp logs. He spoke to Miguel and Pedro, who quickly finished eating, then climbed into their hammocks and pulled their netting over them.
Exhausted, Kate glanced at her hammock, but she wasn’t the least bit sleepy and didn’t relish being curled up in the same position any longer than she needed for a good night’s rest. That left her to sit by the fire until drowsiness claimed her.
“You should go to bed. We’ll be up before dawn.” Mr. Slader finished putting away the food supplies, then sat on a log near hers.
“I’m not sleepy. How about you?”
“The same. I told Pedro and Miguel I would take the first watch.”
“When do I take a watch?”
“You don’t.”
“But I want to be an equal partner in this expedition,” Kate said, not sure what she could do standing guard. She supposed she could scream to alert the others of danger, so they would leap up and dispatch the problem. She certainly couldn’t shoot anyone or anything and using a machete or knife was just as farfetched, especially after the incident in the hallway outside Slader’s room. What had she been thinking? She went out of her way not to step on bugs.
“You’re the boss. That means you don’t have to stand watch.”
“Oh,” she replied, somewhat relieved. After all, she had offered to take her turn. She couldn’t help it if he didn’t want her to. “I’ll keep you company for a while at least.”
“Afraid I’ll fall asleep on duty?”
“You! Never. I don’t see you shirking your duty.”
He chuckled, the sound holding no humor. “You’d be surprised.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Nothing.”
The way he said that one word made it crystal clear that topic of conversation was off-limits. But his answer only piqued her curiosity, which wasn’t a good thing. That was when she got herself into trouble, and she had the funny impression she was already in enough trouble just being in the jungle.
For several minutes, Kate stared at the flames licking the logs, red, orange, yellow. The colors mesmerized her until she heard a loud roar. Heart pumping, she jumped to her feet. Then realizing what the sound was, a howler monkey, she relaxed back on her log.
“Does anything scare you?” Kate asked, amazed at how calm Mr. Slader was. He had remained on his log as though nothing had sounded.
“Yes.” He took a stick and poked at the fire, sending sparks into the smoke that infused their surroundings. “I’m concerned about the men following us. The fact they are tells me everything that happened in Mandras wasn’t a coincidence. Someone doesn’t want you to find your brother. That leads me to the question, why.”
“As before, I don’t have an answer for you.” How many times did she have to tell him?
“You might know something that you don’t realize.”
“When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”
“Who knew, besides General Halston, that you were coming to the Amazon?”
“Just a couple of people back in Red Creek. My pastor, whom I work for, and a neighbor who is taking care of my house.”
“No one else? No one at Zach’s company?”
“No one.”
He threw her a puzzled look at her answer but remained quiet.
The people she knew at her brother’s company wouldn’t be the ones behind something like this. Mark Nelson was a childhood friend whom she’d known all her life and Chad Thomas had been her brother’s roommate in college. She could still remember the crush she’d had on him and the pains she had gone through to keep it a secret from both Chad and Zach. She’d always have a special place in her heart for Chad.
The silence lengthened—long moments spent listening to the insects and animals in the jungle beyond and trying not to think one of those night creatures might be sizing her up for its next meal. So that left talking to Mr. Slader.
Sitting with him a few feet from her, she realized they were strangers who, over the next month or so, would be forced to get to know each other—well. He could talk with the Indian porters, but she couldn’t even do that. Mr. Slader was all she had in the way of companionship and, being a social person, that thought frightened her. What could they possibly have in common?
Still wide awake, especially with the strange noises—thrilling, thumping, rattling—coming from the barricade of green behind her, she tried to think of something harmless to talk about. “Where are you from?” she finally asked, not a particularly original question, but it was all her tired mind could come up with.
“Mandras.”
“I mean before that.”
“Iquitos.”
Already exasperated at his evasiveness, she said through clenched teeth, “I mean in the United States.”
“Do you have anything for the sunburn on your face?”
Instead of answering him, she countered with, “Is it top secret where you came from in the States?”
“No, but I choose to keep my personal life just that. Personal.”
“What’s your full name?” she asked, deciding on another tactic. “What’s the A. C. stand for?”
“All you need to know is Slader.” He tossed the stick he had been using into the fire. “Do you have anything for your face?”
“Some aloe cream,” she answered, peeved that something as simple as his full name was off-limits.
“Then use it tonight and tomorrow before putting on any sunscreen.”
“I’m touched by your thoughtfulness.”
He blinked, a frown slashing his face. “Don’t be. I’ll be the one who’ll have to listen to you complain.”
“I won’t complain,” she muttered, every muscle in her body taut with tension. “I was born and have only lived in Red Creek, Oklahoma. I haven’t seen much of the world. I’ve been to Dallas several times, Chicago and Kansas City. That’s the extent of my travels. I get the impression you’ve been all over the world.” Not a question, but she hoped he would pick up on her topic of conversation and add something about himself.
He harrumphed.
“Dallas and Chicago are too big for me. Kansas City was a beautiful city, but again, too many people. That’s one part of the jungle I l
ike.”
“You? I get the impression you like a lot of people around you, all talking at once.”
She stiffened. “Do you always go out of your way to be—” she searched for a ladylike word to use because right now she wasn’t feeling particularly ladylike “—unfriendly?”
He pointed to his chest. “This is me being friendly. I’m sitting here. I’m listening to you chatter away about cities you’ve been to. I call this downright congenial.” He flashed her a grin that vanished immediately.
“Believe me, you won’t win any congeniality contests.” A big black bug, at least an inch long, crawled onto her lap. She surprised herself by remaining seated and calmly flicking it away. She wouldn’t give Mr. Slader the satisfaction of another leap into the air. “I just thought that, since we’re going to be spending so much time together, we could get to know each other some.”
“Why?”
His question caught her off guard. Why indeed? “Are you always this difficult?” She shook her head. “Never mind answering that. You are.”
“The last place I lived in the United States was Texas. There, are you satisfied?”
“Are you a big country-western music fan?”
He grimaced. “Can’t stand the stuff.”
“I prefer classical.”
“Of course.”
His tone got under her skin like the tiny fly in the jungle that burrowed into people and made them itch, a constant irritant. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I figured you for that kind of person.”
“What kind?”
“Highbrow.”
“Well, for your information I also like rock and roll.”
Both of his eyebrows rose. “Will wonders never cease.”
Ignoring the sarcasm that was so much a part of the man, she asked, “What kind of music do you like?”
She didn’t think he was going to answer, but he finally said, “Jazz. Haven’t heard any in years, though.”
“I don’t imagine you would if the bar you hang out at is any indication of the places you visit.”
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