Lindsay McKenna - Ride The Tiger

Beyond the small oval lawn, row upon row of rubber trees stretched for as far as the eye could see. To the left sat a small village of thatched huts. As Gib sauntered across the lawn toward a group of peasants within the line of the rubber trees, he remained on high alert. He still had no proof that Dany or her people weren’t VC sympathizers.

Dany had been right: The small village that housed her farmhands and their families appeared more like a hamlet than the poorly built and maintained transient-labor cottages he’d seen on large Texas cotton farms. Everything was neatly kept. Blackened cooking pots sat on iron tripods over small fires, the odor of rice and highly seasoned vegetables filling his nostrils. Older women dressed in black and wearing bamboo hats crouched over the fires, tending the forthcoming evening meals. Very young children, naked and golden brown, screamed and played among the huts. Scrawny dogs chased them, yipping and barking happily at their heels.

As Gib neared the group of peasants, who were raking up leaves and twigs from around the rubber trees, he spotted Dany. Halting, he put his hands in his pockets and looked at her. Unbidden, a smile worked its way onto his lips.

Holding a rake, Dany worked alongside the ten other men and women. She wore loose blue cotton pants, too big on her slender form. Her white cotton overblouse was smudged with dirt here and there, testament that she had been working long and hard today. Her face was covered with a sheen of perspiration, her cheeks flushed a deep pink. Her long hair had been caught up beneath the bamboo hat she wore to protect her face from the harsh rays of the tropical sun.

Gib’s smile deepened as his gaze moved downward. Dany was barefoot. She worked unceasingly with her peasants, intent on what she was doing. A small rickety wheelbarrow sat nearby, filled with the twigs, branches and leaves they’d collected, leaving the ground swept clean.

“Dany?” Her name slipped from his lips, more like a reverent prayer than a call intended to catch her attention. Gib was surprised to hear himself use her first name—and by how softly he’d spoken it. Her link with the land made him feel unexpectedly good about her. Thus far, everything she’d said had proven true, Gib thought. If only he could prove for certain that she wasn’t a VC sympathizer.

Dany jerked her head up. Her heart banged violently in her breast. Gib Ramsey stood smiling at her, dressed in civilian clothes—and looking devastatingly handsome, she thought unwillingly. The peasants hadn’t even heard him call her name. But she had. Confused, she stopped raking and walked toward him. Part of her was thrilled at seeing him, another part filled with dread and fear. In spite of his civilian clothes, word might get back to Binh Duc that he was here, on her property, once again.

Feelings of joy warred with embarrassment as Dany approached him. Glancing down at herself, she realized how unkempt she was. Heat nettled her cheeks, but there was nothing she could do about her appearance at this point. Still, she saw the warm look of greeting in Gib’s hazel eyes, the line of his mouth stretching into a lazy smile that sent her heart skittering.

“I’m back,” Gib greeted. Dany’s face was flushed, tendrils of black hair sticking to her temples and down the sides of her neck. Her skin had a golden glow.

Dany halted a few feet from him. Caught off guard by his unexpected presence and unsettled by her own response to him, she heard anger tinge her voice as she asked, “Couldn’t you have at least called?”

Gib saw the look of dread laced with anger replace the sparkle of life that had shone in her green eyes when she first saw him. Was it because of his official capacity? Or aimed at him personally? He didn’t want her to dislike him, he discovered. “I’ll try to remember to do that next time,” he said coolly. “I need to discuss some other things with you—”

Dany gripped his arm and turned him toward the house, looking around and pursing her lips. “Then let’s go inside where we can’t be seen.”

Sensing her worry, Gib fell in step with her as they moved toward the house. “Is anything wrong?”

Taking the wooden steps quickly, Dany placed the rake against the wall and opened the rear screen door. “As always, your being here jeopardizes my neutrality, Major.”

Gib stepped inside. He watched as she took off her bamboo hat and set it on the floor. “I won’t stay long,” he told her.

Dany gestured for him to follow her. She didn’t have the heart to chide him further. Her pulse wouldn’t settle down, and she poked nervously at her damp hair. She was sure she looked utterly disheveled, and she wished mightily that Gib had called first. For some reason, she didn’t want him to see her like this.

Leading him into the main part of the house, Dany called for Ma Ling to bring iced tea. Then she took Gib on to the enclosed veranda at the front of the house. “Let me have a quick shower and change into some clean, dry clothes,” she said quickly. “I’ll join you shortly.”

“Sure,” Gib said. “But you look beautiful just the way you are,” he couldn’t resist adding. He saw her cheeks flame scarlet.

“Oh—” Dany’s heart tripled its beat. Licking her lips nervously, she backed off the veranda and hesitated at the entrance. “I’d better change. I’ll be just a moment.”

Sitting down on one of the bamboo chairs, which had huge, soft pink cushions, Gib wondered at her reaction. Wasn’t Dany used to being complimented? Apparently not—she’d blushed like a schoolgirl.

Ma Ling appeared with two chilled glasses of iced tea. She set the accompanying pitcher on a small bamboo table covered with thick etched glass. A plate of sliced lemons and a sterling silver sugar bowl completed the ensemble.

Gib thanked her and got up to squeeze lemon juice into his glass and add two heaping spoons of sugar. This time, Ma Ling didn’t give him the accusing stare. He grinned, taking the glass back to his chair to sit down. Maybe it was the maid’s way of praising him for showing up in civilian clothes.

Dany quickly slipped into a long, pale pink cotton skirt that brushed her ankles and a sleeveless white blouse. Her hair hung in damp sheets about her shoulders. She quickly ran a brush through the strands to smooth them into place, then captured the mass into one long braid that hung between her shoulder blades. Her ever-present grief lifted slightly at the thought of Gib downstairs. Dany glanced at herself in the bedroom mirror. Wispy strands swept across her forehead, barely touching her brows. Tendrils curled against her temples, softening the natural angularity of her features. Smoothing the cotton blouse, she hurriedly left her spacious bedroom, furnished entirely in bamboo pieces, and skipped down the stairs.

Gib stood when Dany entered the veranda. She looked fetching in the simple skirt and blouse, incredibly beautiful and fresh. His smile deepened when he realized she was still barefoot.

“You’re a country girl at heart,” he teased, stepping over to the table and offering her a glass of iced tea.

Smiling shyly, Dany sat down. “Thank you.” She drank half the glass of tea thirstily—or had she done it out of nerves? Somehow Gib made her wildly aware of herself as a woman.

Gib took a seat opposite her at the table and opened his briefcase, taking out a number of papers and a pen. “How are you doing since the funeral?” he asked.

Sitting back in the bamboo chair, Dany drew up one leg beneath the voluminous skirt. “I have good days and bad days,” she answered simply.

“It’ll cycle like that for about three months.”

Her mouth twitched. “Don’t say that.” Pointing to her eyes, Dany added, “Look at my dark circles. I’ve had nothing but broken sleep and nightmares since it happened.” With a frustrated sound, she said, “There’s too much work here that demands my attention. I can’t keep going on like this.”