One Man's War. Lindsay McKenna
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get you here with no problem.”
“You’ve got eyes like a cat,” Tess agreed breathlessly.
“Here, let me help you.” Pete took one of the supply boxes and tucked it under his left arm. He looked around, feeling edgy. This flight wasn’t authorized by anyone. He doubted Gib would have okayed it. Night flights were strictly planned, and little jaunts like this one were forbidden. Pete didn’t trust the VC buildup he knew was taking place, either. If he got the helicopter shot up or one of his crew wounded, all hell would break loose and his career would go down the tubes.
In the village, some of the adults came out to see who had arrived. Tess halted at her hut and quickly moved the curtain aside. An old kerosene lamp sputtered in one corner, shedding meager light. On the grass mat the little girl still slept. Going over to her, Tess touched the child’s brow.
“How is she?” Pete asked, kneeling next to Tess and opening the box of antibiotics.
“Terribly hot. Her temperature must be 102 or 103.”
Taking off his helmet, Pete set it aside. “Here, let me help.” He saw the worry in Tess’s shadowed eyes, and the way her mouth was pursed to hold back her real reaction to the girl’s deteriorating condition. Ripping off the top of the cardboard box, Pete located the antibiotics. “Start her with 500 milligrams of penicillin.”
“That’s a heavy dose,” Tess protested.
“Yeah, but honey, you ain’t got no choice.” He motioned to the little girl’s foot. “Look at the red lines moving up her leg. The kid’s got blood poisoning.”
“Oh, God...” Tess looked more closely. Her hands shook as she took the syringe and needle from Pete.
“Hey, relax. She’s gonna make it. Just give her this shot, keep her cooled down with water, and by morning she’ll be a lot better.”
Tess gave him an odd look. “Are you a doctor?”
Shyly, Pete shrugged. “Nah, I’m just the kind of bastard that knows a little about a lot of things. Go on, give her the penicillin.” Gently he turned the girl onto her side so that Tess could give the shot.
Relief cascaded through Tess afterward. Pete had also wrangled an entire box of syringes and needles, so she wouldn’t have to keep boiling and using the old ones over again as she had in the past. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice wobbly with feeling. “You really are a knight in shining armor to us.”
Pete snorted and slowly rose. “Don’t go putting me on any pedestals, honey, I’ll sure as hell fall off faster and quicker than you could ever believe. Listen, I gotta hoof it out of here. I don’t like leaving my helo crew sitting ducks on the ground.”
Immediately, Tess stood. “I—thanks, Pete. Thanks so much....”
Gone was the brusque, hard-talking woman of this afternoon. In her place, Pete was privileged to see the real Tess. And sweet God, did he like what he saw. With a shrug he placed his hand on her shoulder. “It’s nothing.”
“I don’t call helping a little girl `nothing.’” There was such vulnerability in his eyes now. Tess felt her breath become suspended and her heart start to beat fast at the discovery. Pete’s hand felt good, steadying her spinning emotions.
“Then,” Pete whispered, devilry dancing in his eyes, “I intend to collect for my good deed sooner or later.” The urge to lean forward those few inches and kiss the hell out of her parted, soft lips was almost Pete’s undoing. But something cautioned him not to do it—at least, not yet. Patting her shoulder, he said, “I’ll see you around, honey.”
He was gone. Tess stood in the center of the hut, the syringe still in her hand. Whatever powerful magic was at work made her feel dizzy and not of this world. Trying to shake off Pete’s overwhelming presence, she turned and knelt down by the little girl. Tess’s night would be spent bathing the child to keep her temperature down until the antibiotic took hold—if only it would. Some of Tess’s hope diminished as she heard the helicopter take off, the heavy whap, whap of blades cutting through the humid air that always hung over Vietnam.
She began to gently bathe the girl, and her hope continued to erode as the last sounds of the helicopter bearing Pete Mallory back to Marble Mountain faded into nothing. It had been a crazy day in so many ways. Pete had crashed into her life, quite literally. Tess couldn’t understand how his hard line toward women in general went with such a compassionate streak toward children. It didn’t make sense. He didn’t make sense.
Still, as she remained awake through the early morning hours, bathing the delirious child, Tess couldn’t forget Pete. There had been moments when his eyes had revealed another side to him—and it was that side she wanted to know. Tess sighed. She’d already lost her innocence about life and men. Three years ago, she’d been engaged to Eric Hampton, a Peace Corps volunteer. So caught up with being in love, Tess had given herself—body, heart and soul—to him.
Tess struggled to shake off much-needed sleep to stay up with the girl. By 3:00 a.m., the child’s temperature was beginning to drop. Relief shattered through Tess as she lay down and drew the girl into her arms. She closed her eyes, but sleep refused to come. Pete’s unexpected entrance into her life had stirred up a lot of unsolved feelings toward Eric.
Eric had been the exact opposite of Pete: quiet, sincere and hardworking. Somehow, the engagement had fallen apart. What had gone wrong? Had it been her? Was she incapable of being loved? Or of knowing what love really was? Now Pete was saying he was a bastard, making no bones about it, and yet there was such a discrepancy between his words and his actions. Unable to figure it all out, Tess sighed again and gave the little girl a gentle squeeze, just to let her know she was loved and cared for.
Pete Mallory was a hunter with few morals or values when it came to women. The pain in Tess’s heart widened as she broached the twilight zone between sleep and wakefulness. So how could she be drawn to him? How? Resolution wove with sleep as she surrendered to the security of the darkness. Under no circumstance would she allow herself to be manipulated. No way.
“Man, things are getting bad out in the bush,” Pete’s copilot, Joe Keegan, confided. The Sikorsky helicopter’s blades were turning slowly, the engine already shut down. Pete finished flipping off the rest of the switches on his side of the cockpit and sat back in the uncomfortable seat, perspiration running down the sides of his face beneath his helmet. Sweat poured off him from the humidity that hung like a heavy, wet blanket around them twenty-four hours a day.
“Yeah,” Pete croaked, loosening the helmet strap. “Things are getting worse.” With a groan, he took the heavy helmet off, fresh air cooling him momentarily. Running his fingers through the wet hair plastered against his skull, he glanced back at the glum marine second lieutenant—a green twenty-three-year-old kid. This was the officer’s first month in Nam and into what was known as the “bush,” a place where lives could be and were lost—especially to VC land mines and snipers. The war—and it was a dirty war, in Pete’s opinion—was heating up daily.
Keegan glumly lifted his hand in farewell and exited out the right side of the Sikorsky, heading toward the flight shack to file their flight report.
Pete’s gunner, Random, a red-haired marine lance corporal with dancing gray eyes, glanced over at him. “Want me to check for holes in the fuselage, Mr. Mallory? I know we took hits.”
“Go ahead. Just don’t tell me how many you find.” Pete sat there, letting the shakiness pass before he attempted to move. His knees felt like jelly.
“You don’t want to know?”
Pete shook his head. “No way.” He didn’t want to know how close one of those bullets had come. The VC knew the man sitting in the right seat of a helicopter was the pilot, and they aimed for him first. He tipped his head back, closed his eyes and