Commando by Lindsay McKenna Page B

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