that," he told her. "Chatter, stop that," he scolded the monkey.
"He's all right. He's just playing," she told him.
"No, he's not."
"Then what's he doing?" she asked bewildered.
“It doesn’t matter. Now come on, I’ve got breakfast just about ready.”
“No,” she said, petting the monkey’s foot on her shoulder as he continued to explore her hair. “I really want to know. What is Chatter doing?”
Conrado cleared his throat and looked the other way briefly. Then he licked his lips and tried to hide his smile. “Well, if you must know, he’s looking for cooties.”
“What!” She shook the monkey off of her as fast as she could. “I don’t have cooties.”
Conrado disappeared toward the fire, chuckling. She then noticed something that hadn't been there the night before. The shower stall below the hut was enclosed with a dark plastic drop cloth that was held up by sticks and vines connected to the hut above.
Had that been the tapping noise she'd heard last night? Did Conrado enclose the shower just for her? She walked closer to inspect it, all the while making sure he didn't notice what she did. He didn't. His nose was in the boxes he was still unpacking from yesterday. Chatter was pulling out things as well, and Conrado was telling the monkey to go play with someone his own size.
She reached out and pulled back the curtain, the smell of deodorant soap filling her nostrils. There was even a bottle of rain-scented shampoo sitting on the small table that held the soap. A clean, dry rag rested beside it. Next to that was a can of shaving foam and a disposable razor.
"No one's going to accuse me of having cooties," she mumbled to herself and stepped inside to try it out.
Conrado knew his comment about the cooties would force Jetta to try the shower. And he was glad, after the work he put into enclosing it late last night. Her own comments the day before had made him realize he hadn’t cared what he’d looked or smelled like. Hell, he hadn’t been around such a beautiful woman in such a long time that he’d actually forgotten how good it felt to shower and shave. He felt so good, he only wanted her to try the shower so she could feel the same way.
Jetta Fitzgerald had caused him to question the way he’d been living from the moment she stepped foot into his boat. Well, his beard and mustache were gone now, and he had nothing to hide behind any longer. Nothing but his reluctance to tell the poor girl the truth about her brother. She had a right to know, and that's why they would set out straight this morning after breakfast to find Ryder's grave.
He'd marked it with a homemade cross and buried the man deep in the jungle so no one would ever find him. He'd gone to great extremes to hide any trace of his horrid crime, and now all sense was leaving him, and all because of a woman.
He still felt the knot in his stomach from her comment in the hut. He knew his life would be over as soon as Jetta Fitzgerald found out his secret. She'd bring the authorities back and they'd lock him up for good and throw away the key. But maybe he deserved whatever he got. Just like his parents going after a treasure they never should have.
Maybe it was time to stop hiding and face the truth. Face himself as well. The missionaries had found one of Conrado's poison darts in Ryder's neck. What more proof did he need? But damned if Conrado could remember doing it. If only he could go back to that night and relive it. This time sober.
He rubbed the condor tattoo on his arm, willing it to disappear. The Jivaro had told him years ago he was the savior mentioned in their prophecy. He was no savior, and he knew it. Everywhere he went, death and destruction followed. Didn’t they understand the condor wasn’t a good omen, but an evil one that had taken over his life?
The sound of singing dragged him from his thoughts, and he realized Jetta was using the shower. She had a beautiful voice as she sang Bungle in the Jungle , -
"He's all right. He's just playing," she told him.
"No, he's not."
"Then what's he doing?" she asked bewildered.
“It doesn’t matter. Now come on, I’ve got breakfast just about ready.”
“No,” she said, petting the monkey’s foot on her shoulder as he continued to explore her hair. “I really want to know. What is Chatter doing?”
Conrado cleared his throat and looked the other way briefly. Then he licked his lips and tried to hide his smile. “Well, if you must know, he’s looking for cooties.”
“What!” She shook the monkey off of her as fast as she could. “I don’t have cooties.”
Conrado disappeared toward the fire, chuckling. She then noticed something that hadn't been there the night before. The shower stall below the hut was enclosed with a dark plastic drop cloth that was held up by sticks and vines connected to the hut above.
Had that been the tapping noise she'd heard last night? Did Conrado enclose the shower just for her? She walked closer to inspect it, all the while making sure he didn't notice what she did. He didn't. His nose was in the boxes he was still unpacking from yesterday. Chatter was pulling out things as well, and Conrado was telling the monkey to go play with someone his own size.
She reached out and pulled back the curtain, the smell of deodorant soap filling her nostrils. There was even a bottle of rain-scented shampoo sitting on the small table that held the soap. A clean, dry rag rested beside it. Next to that was a can of shaving foam and a disposable razor.
"No one's going to accuse me of having cooties," she mumbled to herself and stepped inside to try it out.
Conrado knew his comment about the cooties would force Jetta to try the shower. And he was glad, after the work he put into enclosing it late last night. Her own comments the day before had made him realize he hadn’t cared what he’d looked or smelled like. Hell, he hadn’t been around such a beautiful woman in such a long time that he’d actually forgotten how good it felt to shower and shave. He felt so good, he only wanted her to try the shower so she could feel the same way.
Jetta Fitzgerald had caused him to question the way he’d been living from the moment she stepped foot into his boat. Well, his beard and mustache were gone now, and he had nothing to hide behind any longer. Nothing but his reluctance to tell the poor girl the truth about her brother. She had a right to know, and that's why they would set out straight this morning after breakfast to find Ryder's grave.
He'd marked it with a homemade cross and buried the man deep in the jungle so no one would ever find him. He'd gone to great extremes to hide any trace of his horrid crime, and now all sense was leaving him, and all because of a woman.
He still felt the knot in his stomach from her comment in the hut. He knew his life would be over as soon as Jetta Fitzgerald found out his secret. She'd bring the authorities back and they'd lock him up for good and throw away the key. But maybe he deserved whatever he got. Just like his parents going after a treasure they never should have.
Maybe it was time to stop hiding and face the truth. Face himself as well. The missionaries had found one of Conrado's poison darts in Ryder's neck. What more proof did he need? But damned if Conrado could remember doing it. If only he could go back to that night and relive it. This time sober.
He rubbed the condor tattoo on his arm, willing it to disappear. The Jivaro had told him years ago he was the savior mentioned in their prophecy. He was no savior, and he knew it. Everywhere he went, death and destruction followed. Didn’t they understand the condor wasn’t a good omen, but an evil one that had taken over his life?
The sound of singing dragged him from his thoughts, and he realized Jetta was using the shower. She had a beautiful voice as she sang Bungle in the Jungle , -
Similar Books
