Shah Travers had many fine qualities, Jake decided as he walked over to the mission. His duffel bag was gone, carried inside by Red Feather, the Tucanos boy who worked with Pai Jose. He stopped in the center of the small yard enclosed by the mission buildings and looked around. The profusion of color, the songs of the birds and the many scents mingling in the humid air made Jake smile broadly. The Amazon could be a cruel killer, he knew. But right now, the area was clothed in a raiment of beauty, because Shah Travers cared—deeply, passionately—for something outside of herself.
Whistling merrily, Jake decided to take a walk around the place. His mercenary side was always close at hand. He didn’t trust Hernandez. Although he didn’t know the local politics, he wanted to map out the village for his own satisfaction. He felt naked without his knife and pistol, but he was convinced that sooner or later Shah would trust him enough to give the weapons back.
But first things first. Reconnoitering the village like the recon marine he had once been was at the top of his list. Were these Indians friendly? Were they used to white men? Or would they use blowgun arrows tipped with deadly curare to kill him? There was a lot to discover, Jake conceded with a frown. Maybe the Tucanos accepted Shah because she carried native blood in her veins. Maybe Pai Jose was allowed to stay here because of his unceasing humanitarian work with them. He wasn’t sure at all.
The dangers of the Amazon were many and real. Jake knew that from his other missions, although he’d never before spent so much time in the rain forest. On guard, he tucked away the warm feelings lingering in his heart regarding Shah. He was astonished by those emotions, because for the past four years he’d felt nothing, numbed by the loss of his family. Shah’s unexpected entrance into his life had been responsible for that change. But what was he going to do about it? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure of anything right now.
Chapter Four
The Tucanos village was a long, haphazard affair that hugged the dry, cracked bank of the Amazon River. At first, Jake was jumpy about the Indians, but soon he had fifteen children following him as if he were the pied piper. The few men present were the old ones, and the women were busy working over their cooking pots. The younger men were probably out hunting during the daylight hours. They were a handsome people, Jake conceded, short but with robust bodies and clean features. Everywhere he walked, the old men and women would look up and stare at him, and some would give him a shy smile. He did the same.
The thatched huts were circular and varied in diameter, depending, Jake supposed, on the number of people living in them. Fires were kept outside of the homes, and Jake spotted woven mats placed on the dirt floor in several of them. The Tucanos people were primitive, without many civilized amenities. There was no electricity, except for what was produced by a gasoline-fed generator that Pai Jose kept behind the small infirmary next to the church. Jake doubted the old priest used it often—perhaps only when light was needed at night for a surgery.
Jake saw that he was coming to the end of the village. One small thatched hut with a dried brown palm-leaf roof sat off by itself. The huts were placed among the tall trees to take advantage of the shade. He slowed, and was about to turn around when he saw Shah emerge from the more isolated hut. Not wanting another confrontation with her, he started to turn, but it was too late.
Shah caught sight of Randolph, walking near her hut. “What are you doing? Snooping around?” she challenged as she walked toward the riverbank, where her dugout canoe was beached. She felt upset to see that Randolph was still around, still so close. Somehow, she hadn’t wanted him to know where she was living.
“I was looking around.” Jake shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled down at the assembled children in faded cotton shorts who trailed after him. He, too, moved toward the canoe. “It’s an old marine habit,” he offered.
“Marine?” And then Shah chastised herself for her curiosity. Randolph looked military, she acknowledged. Still, despite his size and his craggy features, she simply didn’t feel threatened by him. Unable to understand why, she became angry with herself. She stopped at the canoe. Bento, her Tucanos helper, had found six new orchids along one of the lesser-used channels and brought them back for her to identify. But they had to be properly cared for if she was to try to find out what species they were. She had taught the Indian to place the plants in moist palm-fiber baskets to keep them safe and alive.
Jake stopped at the bow of the canoe and watched as she got down on her knees to gently and carefully gather up a multipetaled yellow flower. Perhaps conversation would ease the scowl on her broad brow.
“I was in the Marine Corps for sixteen years before I joined Perseus,” he explained.
Shah glanced up. His towering figure was back-lit by the sun. The shadows deepened the harshness of his features, which would have been frightening if not for his boyish expression. She placed the orchid in a large plastic bag.
“You’re a warrior, then.” Somehow that fitted him. Shah couldn’t picture him in a suit and tie.
He nodded. “Yeah, we saw ourselves as that. Your people were known as warriors, too.”
Shah gently lifted the orchid and set it outside the canoe. She took a rusty tin can and walked to the river for water.
“The Lakota recognize that men and women can be warriors. It isn’t gender-related.”
“I didn’t know that.”
She gave him a dark look, then knelt down, her knees bracketing the orchid. Pouring water around the roots, she muttered, “Nowadays every woman has to be a warrior, to stand up and be counted, because we’re the only ones who can save Mother Earth.” She lifted her chin, challenge in her low voice. “It’s the men who have polluted, poisoned and ruined our Earth in the name of greed, politics and self-oriented policies.”
Jake looked up at the slow-moving Amazon. The muddy river’s surface was like glass. He considered Shah’s impassioned words. Looking back down at her, he realized she was waiting for his reaction. Good. He sensed her interest in him; he desperately needed to cultivate that fragile trust.
“I wouldn’t disagree with you, Shah. Men have been raping Mother Earth for centuries. Everything’s coming due now, though. It’s payback time.”
“Rape is the right word,” she muttered, closing the plastic bag around the orchid’s stem. She glanced at him, surprised that he agreed with her. Perhaps he was just stringing her along, trying to get her to believe he was really on her side. She was standing, ready to lift the heavy container, when Jake came forward.
“Here, let me carry that for you.” He saw her golden eyes flare with surprise. Taking the plant container, he said, “I’m a great gofer. Tell me where you want this plant.”
Stunned, Shah jerked her hands away from the container as he slid his large, scarred hands around its circumference. “Well, I…in my hut. I was going to try to look up these species before night fell.” She dusted off her hands.
Jake walked toward her hut. It would give him the excuse he needed to see her living conditions—and to see how vulnerable her hut might be to attack. Shah hurried and caught up with him. There was a bright red cotton cloth over the front of the door, and she pulled it aside for him.
“Just set it next to the other ones,” she told him, pointing to the far wall.
“This orchid smells great,” Jake said as he bent low to enter the hut. Obviously it had been