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Parsons’s lean hand tightened around the pen he was holding. “Any proof?”
“No, sir. Short of finding Duc and making him admit it, I doubt we’re going to get anything substantial.”
“Have you questioned Miss Villard’s peasants?”
Gib felt his CO’s probing eyes go through him. With the unexpected number of helo flights the last week, he hadn’t been able to schedule time to see Dany again. “Not yet, but that’s next on my list.”
“When?”
“Today, sir,” Gib lied. He knew he was dragging his feet on this investigation because of Dany’s effect on him. Parsons wasn’t going to allow any more stalling on his part. He might as well get it over with.
Parsons grunted his satisfaction. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’m appointing you official liaison officer to Miss Villard. It’s been so damned busy around here that I keep forgetting to tell you.”
“Liaison officer? What for?”
The colonel shrugged noncommittally. “Don’t know yet. That’s the word that came up from Saigon a couple days ago. The boys at headquarters don’t think we need to know what’s going on—as usual.”
Bothered, but not sure why, Gib nodded. “We’re still investigating the death of Miss Villard’s mother, sir.”
“That has nothing to do with this second assignment, Gib.”
Irritated, Gib scowled. So what the hell did? “Does HQ have some other plans involving the Villard plantation?”
Parsons shrugged. “As I said before, Gib, they don’t make me privy to the think-tank personnel who go around all day cooking up screwball ideas to hand to the field marines. If I had anything more than that, I’d give it to you.”
Rankled, Gib nodded. “Sounds like HQ has something bigger up their sleeve.”
“Probably,” Parsons agreed drily. “But until they tell us, we can just hang out over the cliff wondering what the hell it is. We really don’t have time for that.”
Gib agreed. “I’ll schedule some time to see Miss Villard this afternoon and question her workers. Maybe one of them knows something.”
Parsons snorted. “My money’s on the local VC chieftain. Those gooks probably won’t talk to you for fear of his reprisal.”
Gib cringed inwardly at the colonel’s use of the derogatory term to refer to the Vietnamese people. To him, it showed lack of sensitivity and, worse, a lack of understanding of a people whose history was thousands of years old. They deserved to be treated as human beings, not placed under some convenient, insulting label. “It wouldn’t make sense in this case, sir. Miss Villard said she has had an agreement, a neutrality, with all parties involved since 1930.”
With a tight, smile, Parsons muttered, “Miss Villard is fooling herself if she thinks she can remain neutral in the middle of all this.”
“I don’t know, sir, the Villards managed to do it when the French colonials were fighting the Vietminh in the fifties.”
“This is different.”
“If I get a deposition with any proof of Duc’s involvement, I’ll contact you upon my return.”
“Good. Dismissed.”
Gib came to attention and left. Against his better judgment, he looked forward to seeing Dany. Had she recovered from the initial shock of her mother’s death? He hadn’t been able to forget the look on her face, the puffiness beneath her eyes, showing how much she’d cried. Moving between the long rows of tents, he made his way to his own. Recalling Ma Ling’s severe censure about showing up in uniform, Gib decided that to keep the peace he’d better slip into civilian clothes.
His tent was small and spare, including a metal bunk with a thin mattress on it, a metal locker where he stored his clothes, an office desk and a phone. The plywood floor was swept daily by Vietnamese women who worked on the base, but sand inevitably crunched beneath his flight boots.
Grabbing a towel, Gib headed for the hastily erected plywood showers that stood at the end of the row of tents. On some days, the grit of Marble Mountain felt like burrs under a saddle as far as Gib was concerned. The fine sand got trapped inside his dark green flight suit and chafed until his skin was raw and bleeding. Then fungal infection could set in, becoming a nightmare of trying to get rid of the leaky abrasions with ten-day cycles of penicillin. He shook his head at the thought. Yeah, great climate they had here.
Right now Gib wanted a lukewarm shower to cleanse his crowded, exhausted mind almost as much as to wash the sand off his body. Drying himself afterward, he padded down the row of tents in his shower thongs, the white towel wrapped loosely around his narrow hips. It would be a welcome change to get out of his one-piece flight uniform and into a set of clean civilian clothes. Back at his tent, Gib pulled on a light blue short-sleeved shirt, fresh underwear and tan slacks, then quickly ran a comb through his short dark hair, taming it into place.
Feeling semihuman once again, he borrowed a yellow Citroën from an ARVN officer friend and headed toward Dany Villard’s plantation. As Gib drove along Highway 1, which would eventually lead to 14, his mind strayed to the passing countryside. The afternoon heat was building across Vietnam, the sun burning down from a bright azure sky to touch the top of the triple-canopied jungle. The smells that surrounded Gib were many, from pungent and acrid to cloyingly sweet. To him, Vietnam was a land of extremes, but more than anything, it was one of the most beautiful places on earth—and, unfortunately, rapidly becoming one of the deadliest.
As he drove down the Villard plantation’s long red-brick driveway, Gib saw the few Vietnamese peasants working along the boulevard look up in curiosity. But their faces gave away nothing of what they thought or felt about his intrusive presence.
At the house, Gib climbed out of the Citroën. The need to see Dany was nearly overwhelming in one sense, yet uncomfortable in another. As he took the steps two at a time, Gib tried to search for why he was drawn so powerfully to her, but no answer was forthcoming. All he knew was that thinking of Dany brought a lush flow of feelings that he’d thought he’d lost by being in combat for nearly two tours. And he couldn’t afford to feel like that—not here in Vietnam with the rigors of combat he faced every day.
He knocked at the screen door and waited patiently for Ma Ling to appear.
Ma Ling answered his knock, her broad brow wrinkling instantly when she saw who it was. “Yes?” she demanded.
Gib spoke slowly. “I’m here to see Miss Villard.”
Ma Ling’s scowl deepened, but she reluctantly opened the door. “Come, you go through house. Miss Dany out with workers.”
Gib nodded. “Thank you.”
Shaking her head, Ma Ling led him through the teakwood halls to a rear door. “Go out there,” she ordered. “You find her there.”
Gib thanked her and, leaving his briefcase near the back door, stepped out once more into the sunshine. Bougainvillea grew in bright profusion around the rear of the house, and a small, carefully manicured lawn with a number of silk trees bordering it made up the backyard. A variety of orchids climbed and hung in the limbs of the silk trees, their colors and scents dazzling his senses. As always, the calls of birds, each melody different, wafted out of the jungle that surrounded the rubber-tree plantation like a somewhat discordant symphony. Screamer monkeys could be heard, their shrieks sounding almost human in the distance.
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.”
“You wake up tired and go to sleep tired,” Gib guessed softly. The urge to reach out and fold Dany into his arms was tangible. She looked so young, seemingly untouched by the war that escalated daily around her.
“Yes,” Dany said. She managed a small smile. “The work keeps me from thinking...feeling, I guess.”
Hearing the raw pain in her voice, he lifted his head and held her sincere gaze. “Grief does funny things to us,” he agreed.
Dany set the glass on the table. She tried to remind herself that he was a marine, someone who posed a threat to the plantation and her people. Just as she was going to speak, she heard a young boy calling her name as he ran around the corner of the house. It was Hanh Vinh, Ma Ling’s twelve-year-old grandson.
Gib heard the high, excited call and turned in his seat. A skinny young boy dressed in a pair of faded cutoffs and a white T-shirt, his straight black hair cut in a bowl fashion, came galloping up the stairs.
“Missy Dany, Missy Dany! Look what I found!” Vinh called excitedly. His brown eyes widened at the sight of Gib, and he jerked to a halt.
“It’s all right, Vinh,” Dany said kindly. “This is Major Ramsey. He’s here to investigate my mother’s death.” She spoke slowly to him in English, as she often did. Dany wanted her workers to be fluent not only in their own language, but—English and French as well.
Vinh flushed, dodged around Gib and proudly marched over to Dany. “Look what I found!”
With a cry of delight, Dany reached out toward Vinh. “A kitten?”
“Yes, I found it crying along our fence line where I was clearing some brush. Look at it! Look at the color. I’ve decided to call him Milky, because he is the color of milk.”
Dany gently took the kitten into her hands and cradled it against her breast. She glanced over at Gib and saw genuine interest and compassion in his face. “This little one can’t be more than four or five weeks old, Vinh.”
“May I keep him, Missy Dany?” the boy begged, clasping his hands together. “Please? I promise, I will take great care of him.”
Dany examined the white kitten, then said wryly, “Sweetheart, I think your kitten isn’t a him, but a her.”
Vinh’s eyes widened. “Yes?”
“It’s a girl.”
“Well, is that not good?”
Petting the scruffy little kitten, who obviously was starving, Dany smiled into Vinh’s eyes. “It means that when she grows up, she can have babies.”
Vinh shrugged dramatically, flashing her a winsome smile. “We need cats to chase and kill the rats!”
Returning the kitten to Vinh, Dany laughed. “Yes, we do need some mousers.” She gave him a stern look. “You promise to take very good care of Milky?”
Clutching the kitten to his chest, the boy bobbed his head several times. “Yes! A thousand yeses, Missy Dany! I will see that Milky is fed, and I will find a comb for her white fur. I will take her with me everywhere I go. She will fit nicely in my pocket here.” He patted his cutoffs. “In fact, she can help me clear brush along the fence! Then I will draw pictures of her!”
Struggling to hide a smile, Dany maintained her serious expression. “You have many duties, Vinh. You go to school, you have your art instruction once a week and daily art assignments to fulfill. Are you sure you can discipline yourself enough to also take care of this little kitten?”
Vinh’s face turned sincere as he gently petted the kitten now purring noisily in his slender hands. “I will take care of Milky as if she were my sister.”
“Then you may keep her,” Dany said, finally allowing her smile to surface. “Ask Ma Ling if she will favor your kitten with some fresh cow’s milk and some soft food.”
Vinh rushed over to Dany, threw his skinny arm around her neck and gave her a wet kiss on the cheek.
“I love you so much, Missy Dany! Thank you!”
Dany embraced him gently, not wanting to squish the kitten he held so carefully. “And I love you, too.”
Vinh beamed and backed off. He gave Gib a long, curious look as if he wanted to say something to him, but shyness overcame him. Ma Ling appeared silently at the screen door and allowed him into the foyer, her face stern. Dany smiled up at her mamasan. Ma Ling’s eyes danced with amusement, but her face remained stonelike.
After peace returned to the veranda, Dany looked over at Gib. The expression on his face touched her heart.
“You’re a soft touch,” he teased, his voice husky.
With a shrug, Dany sipped the iced tea. “Vinh has favored status around here,” she told him conspiratorially. “He’s such a bright young boy, and a wonderful artist! You should see his tempera paintings. When he was seven, I caught him in his hut drawing, and I was amazed at his talent. He’s Ma Ling’s grandson, so I asked her if she thought he might do well to have art lessons. She agreed. I discovered a retired art professor who lives in Da Nang and I drive Vinh up to see him once a week.”
Gib smiled. “He’s a nice kid. And he knows how to get his way with you.”
Dany laughed for the first time. “These people are my extended family, Major. I could never turn them down on something they really needed or wanted. Over the years, five children have grown up, gone to the university in Saigon and now have professional lives. I’m proud of what we do to help them.”
“You treat your people the way we do ours back on our family ranch in Texas,” Gib said. “Our manager is from Mexico, and we’ve helped put his six kids through school.”
