Dangerous Alliance

She laughed. “Really?”

“Well, maybe some men, but not me. I’ll see you Monday morning, Libby.”

As he turned away, Libby admired the breadth of his shoulders and the inherent strength of his back beneath the snug-fitting shirt. He was in excellent shape, she could see. As Dan settled the garrison cap back on his head, Libby knew without a doubt he was proud to be a marine. There was strength in his movements, blended with confidence and pride. Suddenly, Libby wanted to know a great deal more about him. Where had he come from? How had life treated him? He seemed so positive and upbeat.

Mulling over her observations, Libby guided Shiloh out of the gate and toward the tack room below the arena. A number of trail riders were going and coming, the vociferous noise of marines on the horses echoing around the small niche in a canyon where the stable stood.

Most of the children from her class had already left, and Jenny was just unsaddling her mare when Libby arrived at the tack room.

“Long two minutes,” Jenny teased.

Dismounting, Libby grimaced. “I was wrong.”

“Oh?”

Unbuckling Shiloh’s girth beneath the saddle flap, Libby said, “I thought he was chasing me, but he’s not. He wants me to show him around the area on horseback Monday morning.”

Jenny slid the English saddle off her horse and held it in her arms. “And?”

“Don’t give me that look.”

“What look?”

“Oh, you know which one,” Libby muttered, hauling the saddle off Shiloh. “This is strictly business, Jenny. Captain Ramsey wants to become acquainted with this area because it’s the direction brig prisoners always head to escape onto civilian territory.”

“Sure.”

“You,” Libby said, following her into the darkened tack room, “are misinterpreting Dan’s—I mean, Captain Ramsey’s actions.”

“Sure I am.” Jenny giggled and hung the saddle on a long cottonwood rack, checking to be sure the iron stirrups were snugly fitted up near the back of the saddle before she wiped it down with a clean cloth.

“You’re such a wiseacre, Stevens.”

“My momma and daddy didn’t raise a dummy, Ms. Tyler. Despite Captain Ramsey’s seemingly innocent request, I think he’s pursuing you.”

“Pooh.” Taking a damp cloth, Libby quickly wiped down her own leather straps and saddle. “He’s new here. He’s got to get the lay of the land. I give him credit, at least he’s doing his homework. What other PM has ever come down to check out the terrain?”

Grabbing her purse from the tack trunk, Jenny said, “Precisely my point, Lib. Think about it. Listen, I gotta run. I have to be on duty over at the hospital in an hour. See you tomorrow afternoon.” At the door she cheerily called back, “And have fun getting to know the terrain!”

Disgruntled, Libby didn’t respond, merely waving goodbye to her friend instead. Quiet settled around her. The odor of leather and soap permeated the air. She inhaled the reassuring smells as she continued to clean off her saddle and then the double bridle. About fifty Western saddles lined the left wall and equally as many English saddles covered the right. The wonderful aromas made this one of her favorite rooms. Her most favorite was the hay barn, with the fragrant clover-and-alfalfa hay stacked beneath the corrugated-aluminum roof. It was too bad the perfume industry couldn’t capture the essence, Libby thought. She, for one, would wear it religiously.

Without reason, Dan came to mind. He wasn’t a horse person. Probably not even a country boy. A city slicker, no doubt, she judged. He didn’t even own a pair of cowboy boots. With a smile, Libby shook her head. Jenny was wrong. The captain was merely being thorough about his new assignment. She liked that trait in a man. Thoroughness could save lives. The copilot who had killed Brad and his men hadn’t paid attention to such small details on the terrain map as the location of the power lines, and it had killed all of them. She sighed. Finished with her task, she walked outside and prepared to rub her gelding down.

As she snapped Shiloh into the cross ties—two chains hooked to either side of massive barn timbers—Libby fought her curiosity about Dan.

“Ramsey. You’ve got to call him Captain Ramsey,” she whispered to herself, picking up the rubber brush. Libby wondered what he would do for the rest of the day. Go back to an office he really didn’t want to be in? Go home? She felt for him, understanding all too well his love of fresh air and the outdoors.

* * *

“Dan, you’d better put your seat belt and crash helmet on,” Rose warned, sticking her head around his door.

Having just come in, Dan raised his brows. “I don’t like your tone, Rose. What’s coming down?”

“There’s a Lieutenant Wood on the phone from Trea[chsure Island, and he’s furious in capital letters. He’s a navy brig officer up there,” she added.

He nodded. “Okay, I’ll take the call in here, Rose. Did he say what it’s about?”

She looked down her glasses at him. “PFC David Shaw. The same kid I talked to you about the other day.”

“Okay.” Rose shut the door and he picked up the phone. “Captain Ramsey speaking.”

“This is Lieutenant Wood calling from the correction facility at TI, Captain. Just how in the hell are you training your brig chasers nowadays?”

Dan settled his elbows on his desk and kept a tight rein on his anger. “Lieutenant, would you like to explain? I’m in the dark about this.” He didn’t like navy people chewing him out in general. And specifically, he didn’t like snotty officers snapping at him, regardless of rank or ser[chvice.

“PFC Shaw transported Coughman from your brig to ours,” Wood snarled. “And he brought the prisoner in without leg irons. Now, Captain, that’s pure slop. What if Coughman had decided to run for it? All he’d have had to do was knock Shaw out and take off. Regulations specifically cite the prisoner must be bound in wrist and leg irons. Don’t your people read the orders we give them? Just what the hell’s going on down there?”

Taking a deep breath, Dan recalled Rose’s warning about Shaw. “Look, Lieutenant Wood, I apologize for Shaw’s performance,” he said in an unruffled but authoritative tone. “I’ve been here less than a week, but I can promise you it won’t happen again.”

“It’d better not, Captain. I don’t put my brig people at risk like that. Shaw’s stupidity put the civilian population at risk, too. Coughman’s a convicted murderer. Didn’t Shaw know who he was transporting?”

“I agree with you in principle, Lieutenant Wood, and as I said, it won’t happen again. You’ve got my word.”

“I hope so.”

“Thanks for calling,” Dan said, keeping his voice calm as anger lapped at the edges of his control. The other officer’s receiver clicked down and the line went dead. Grimly, Dan pushed the intercom button that would connect him with his secretary.

“Rose?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Is PFC Shaw on duty down at the brig?”

“Umm…wait a sec, let me check the daily brig roster. Yes, sir, he is.”

“Get him up here on the double,” he ordered tightly. “And bring in the files on Coughman and Shaw, please.”

“Yes, sir!”

He’d just stood to unwind from the tension that had settled in his shoulders when his phone rang again.

“What is it, Rose?”

“Bad day, Captain. Sergeant Donnally just reported in from San Onofre. He was asked to go over there because two illegal Mexicans were found hiding behind one of the Quonset huts. Apparently they spoke only Spanish and Joe is fluent. They needed an interpreter.”

“Yes?”

“He got into a fight with a couple of marines who were beating up the illegals when he arrived. Joe’s on the way over to make a report to you just as soon as he drops off the Mexicans to Border Patrol authorities. He’s putting the two enlisted guys who started the fight on report.”