Jim winced at the anger in her voice. He couldn't blame her. Shame flowedthrough him. She deserved better than him-a better chance at surviving. Whyhad she been thrown into his arms? All he'd wanted was to continue to survive without being detected-by VC or friendly forces. "Look," he rasped, "I needtime-"

"I don't have time!" Alex cried softly. "In a week, I could be dead! Is thatwhat you want? Are you willing to throw my life away so you can stay safe?"

Jim couldn't bear the tears glimmering in Alex's haunted eyes. Anger mixedwith his grief. "No, dammit, I don't want to let you die! But I can't go back.I can't!"

"Why not?"

Jim's breath came hard and fast, the pain in his chest so great it felt like aheart attack. He could see the anger flashing in Alex's eyes. Frustrationshowed in the set of her stubborn lips. "I can't talk about it," he whispereddefensively.

"Can't or won't?" Alex hurled back hotly. She jerked the blanket aside, andthe movement cost her dearly.

Jim's eyes narrowed. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm getting out of here, that's what. Get me my blouse and that flight suit!I don't care if they're wet or not!"

He stared at her, dumbfounded. "You won't be able to walk ten feet withoutfalling on your nose."

Alex struggled to her knees. Pain throbbed through her shoulder and down herleft arm. "Hand me my clothes. I'll be d.a.m.ned if I'm staying here with adeserter. I'm scared, McKenzie, but I'm not so scared I won't try! I don'tknow what Vietnam did to you, but I'm not paying for it!" She stretched outher hand. " Now give me my clothes!"

Glaring at her, Jim rasped, "You're going nowhere. Sit down, Alex. Right now."

Squaring off with him, Alex felt the pumping adrenaline suddenly leave her.She felt shaky, then began to tremble. Black dots danced in front of her eyes.

She was going to faint if she didn't lie down immediately.'

"You yellow-bellied coward," she cried hoa.r.s.ely. "If I could, I'd leave youright now! Just as soon as I get strong enough, I'm getting out of here!" Shefell back, the wall of the tunnel stopping her from completely collapsing. Thejolt made her cry out, and she reached automatically for her wounded shoulder.

Instantly, Jim moved to her side. "Be still, Alex," he whispered tautly,pulling her hand from her shoulder.

Jerking away, Alex glared up at him. "Don't touch me," she snarled.

Chapter Three.

Smarting beneath Alex's attack, Jim made her as comfortable as possible. Whenshe lay down, he covered her with the blanket, then crawled over to the otherwall of the tunnel. She had closed her eyes, her lips set in an angry line,and was refusing to talk to him.

Jim knew he'd better eat, even though he didn't feel like it. Glumly pickingup the bowl, he dug into his rucksack for more of the poorly cooked rice. Hisstomach knotted. Only the sound of Alex's labored breathing filled the tunnel.How could he tell her the gruesome truth? What would she think of him when sheknew the horror of the crime he'd committed? The crime was so heinous, somind-blowing, that he felt as if he were drowning in guilt and shame.

Jim chewed the rice without really tasting it, his gaze fastened on Alex. Herbreathing had steadied and softened. When she opened her eyes much later, Jimscrambled inwardly to lessen the tension strung between them. Casting around,he said, "In our part of the country, we don't have many television sets. Mykinfolk-an uncle-had one, but he lived near town. I remember as a kid grown'up listening to the radio all the time." He forced a semblance of a smile, hisvoice low. "You remember the Lone Ranger?"

Alex turned her head and gazed at his shadowed features. There was somethingvulnerable and hurting about Jim McKenzie. But now his mouth, once a tortured,twisted line of some withheld pain known only to himself, had relaxed. He hada wonderful mouth, a kind mouth, and she had trouble imagining him killinganything, much less another human being. As he lifted his head to meet andhold her stare, Alex felt some of her anger dissolve. His large, intelligenteyes were not those of the killer he professed to be. She saw the faraway lookin them and was lulled by his low voice. Wanting to make peace as she'd alwaystried to do in her own family, controlled by a father who ruled by anger, Alexresponded. After all, Jim McKenzie had saved her life.

"Yes, I remember," she said softly. "I used to sit in front of our radio justwaiting for the next weekly serial to come on."

Relief washed over Jim. He saw Alex struggle to be polite although anger stilllurked in her eyes. "I can remember as a ten-year-old kid hardly being able towait for the next Lone Ranger and Tonto story. I liked them, I liked what theydid. They were always saving people who were in trouble." The corners of Jim'smouth lifted with the memory. "I used to make believe I was the Lone Ranger. Iwent out back, found a saplin' and cut it down. That was Silver, my horse.When I wasn't doing ch.o.r.es or huntin' with Pa, I'd be galloping around thehills, pretending I was saving people in trouble."

Alex shut her eyes. "I-I remember those times... the radio shows. That seems so long ago...."

"We were young 'uns."

"I was eight years old."

"Who was your favorite?"

Alex opened her eyes. "I always liked Tonto."

"He never said much, but then, he was an injun."

"I liked him because he saved the Lone Ranger when he got into trouble."

"I guess we both wanted to help people," Jim whispered. "Nurses definitely dothat." He frowned. "I thought recons helped, too, but, I was wrong...."

"There's nothing wrong with helping others," Alex said. "You said recons saveda lot of marine lives. I think that's positive."

Jim smiled faintly at Alex. "Maybe." Her face held such serenity in thatmoment. She was pretty, and there was a wide streak of goodness in her, too.Desperate to get off the topic, Jim said, "You remind me of Molly Pritchard, agal whose folks were our closest neighbors."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, Molly was kind of like Tonto, always quiet and something of a shadow.She had five older brothers, so she was kind of pushed aside in favor of them.She had hair like yours, the color of rich, brown earth. The kids at schoolmade fun of her."

"Why?"

With a shrug, Jim said, "Molly was board-awful ugly. Not that it was herfault. She had buckteeth and she squinted all the time. A lot of city kidspicked on her, but I used to stand up for her. Partly because she was hillfolk like me. And partly...well, she was like a little brown mouse, so quietand afraid. I always had a soft place in my heart for underdogs. So, I kindabecame her protector."

"What happened to Molly?" Alex was touched by Jim's admission.

"We were in the third grade together and this teacher, Missus Olgilvie, usedto walk up and down the rows with a three-foot-long ruler in her hands. Anyonenot studying got whacked across the shoulders. She always picked on the boys,not the girls, but poor' Molly lived in dire fear of Missus Olgilvie smackingher. Molly couldn't see the blackboard, so the teacher kept moving her closerand closer to the front of the room. Finally, the teacher sent a note home toMolly's parents to get her eyes checked."

Jim smiled fondly in remembrance. "Little-brown-mouse Molly got her eyeschecked at this fancy eye doctor's office. I remember the day her folks loadedeveryone in their beatup old Ford pickup and went off to the city. That was abig deal, you know? Hill people are real poor, even today, and we just didn'thave that kind of money around. I remember Ma and Pa loaning Mr. Pritchardforty dollars of money they'd been saving, so that Molly could get this testand a pair of gla.s.ses."

Jim tipped his head back and closed his eyes. "The Pritchards came home late that evening, close to dark. They stopped at our cabin on the way home. Iremember coming out and standing by the door. Molly was in her finest dress, acotton print with yeller b.u.t.tercups all over it. Her brown hair was tied up ina yeller ribbon, too. My mouth dropped open as I walked out to the pickupwhere she sat with her brothers. There she was, proudly wearing those blackhorn-rimmed frames. I stood there for a long moment realizing just how prettyMolly Pritchard really was, 'cause she no longer had to squint her eyes tosee. No, she had the most beautiful green eyes I'd ever seen."

Touched to the point of tears, Alex kept her gaze fixed on Jim's softenedfeatures. "What happened after that?"

Jim chuckled. "Molly went back to school wearing those gla.s.ses as proudly as Iwore my marine uniform when I first got out of boot camp. The gla.s.ses gave herconfidence, real confidence, and she no longer was a shadow. When Mollywalked, she strutted, her head held high for the first time. She no longer hadto sit in the front row to see the blackboard, and her grades started comingup. She turned from an ugly ducklin' into this purty young girl with hugegreen eyes. She wasn't a shy, backward, little brown mouse anymore."

"I can relate," Alex whispered.

Jim nodded. "That's the reason you remind me of Molly-you're shy and quiet,but underneath, you've got real strength."

"I don't know about that. It's funny to hear you describe Molly, though,because in my family, I'm called 'mouse' by my brothers and father."

Frowning, Jim set the bowl of rice aside. "Your pa ought not to call youthat."

"My father praises aggression, athletic ability and confidence. My brothershave those qualities-I don't."

Jim snorted. "Yet, you just survived a helicopter crash in enemy territorywhen no one else did. Does that sound like a mouse?"

Alex smiled halfheartedly and closed her eyes. His warm tone made her feelmore emotionally stable. "You said you were proud to wear the marine uniform.What made you join up, Jim?"

He shook his head wearily. "Lookin' back on it, I must have been addled, butat the time, it felt like the right thing to do. My pa had been a marineduring the big war, and all my life I'd been a weak, sickly child. I was talland skinny, too.

"In school, when the city kids called me names, ganged up and pushed me aroundor wouldn't let me play sports with them, I would daydream, pretending theschool was Dodge City, full of desperadoes, and that I was the Lone Ranger. Ithelped me get through school, I guess. One day, when I was in the eighthgrade, these military recruiters came to our school auditorium and gave us atalk about joining the military as a way toward better education. I rememberseeing that marine sergeant in his dress blues, how his uniform stood out fromthe rest, and how proud he was. His back was ramrod straight, his shoulderssquared, and you just knew that he was a far better man than any of the otherssitting on the stage, waiting their turn to talk to us.

"I went home and told my pa that when I was old enough, I was gonna join theMarine Corps." Jim's voice lowered with feeling. "I remember tears came to hiseyes. Tears! I'd never seen my pa cry. He didn't say anything, he just grabbed me and held me so tight I couldn't breathe. When he finally released me, hetook me into their bedroom to an old wooden trunk. I knew of the cedar trunk,but I'd been given strict instructions never to open it. So, when Pa openedit, I was in awe.

"There, inside, was his dress blue Marine Corps uniform, carefully folded inmothb.a.l.l.s to stop the moths from eatin' holes into the fabric. I remember hetook my hand and pressed it across all his ribbons and medals from World War II. His voice shook as he told me about each medal-the four purple hearts, thebronze star and the silver star. Pa was a genuine hero, and I'd never known ituntil that moment. When he'd finished telling me his story, he looked mestraight in the eye and told me how proud he was of me wanting to be a marinelike he'd been."

Taking a deep, unsteady breath, Jim whispered, "At that moment, I didn't wantanything else in the world but to become a marine. I wanted Pa to always beproud of me that way. I worked real hard at school. I brought up my grades,and I tried to better myself. At graduation, Pa gave me a gift-his silver starmedal. He told me to live up to it. When I joined the Marine Corps and putthat uniform on for the first time, I felt like the Lone Ranger. I believed mydrill instructors when they said marines were there to help the underdogs, tofight Communism and to free people. My folks came to Camp Lejune, NorthCarolina, for my graduation. They never traveled anywhere, but they came allthe way from Missouri to see me. It was the proudest day of my life as I stoodthere at attention. My pa cried. He just threw his arms around me and cried."

Tears stung Alex's eyes. "Wh-what did you do, Jim?"

He shook his head. "Marines don't cry. I just stood there, a head taller thanhim, feeling strong and good while I held him in my arms. I'd graduated at thehead of my recon cla.s.s, and I was given my private-first-cla.s.s stripe rightthen and there. Pa was never prouder."

Quiet reigned in the tunnel as Alex absorbed his story. In many ways Jim waslike her: an outcast of sorts, someone who'd been viewed as a loser who didn'tmeasure up in society's or, in her case, her family's eyes. "At least," Alexsaid, "you were noticed and praised for your efforts. I never was. My fathernamed me after Alexander the Great. Can you believe that? He wanted threesons, not two sons and a daughter. Mom said he was really disappointed to findout I was a girl. He already had the name picked out, so they just putAlexandra on the birth certificate."

Jim heard the pain in Alex's voice. "Any family would be proud to have you astheir daughter. You've survived when most wouldn't."

"My father's probably raging and ranting right now that it's just like me tocause him a problem. I've always been a problem to him. He wanted me to finishnursing school and join the navy and I told him no. I know he's ashamed ofme," Alex admitted, "because I've never lived up to what he wanted me to be."

"What did he want?"

"A tomboy, I guess. I liked dolls, playing house and learning to cook, butFather doesn't value those things. He wanted me to excel in math and sciences,but I loved painting and ceramics instead." Alex held Jim's softened gaze withher own. "I'm the mouse, remember? Father could brag about Case and Buckbecause they were football heroes. Both my brothers went on to get navalacademy appointments and then became marines. Father's real proud of them."

"Well," Jim offered, "your pa is blind, then. You're a purty gal with a lot of common sense. There aren't many who would've kept their head after that crash,hiding and not getting captured. I'm proud of you, if that means anything."

Alex felt heat suffuse her neck and cheeks under Jim's praise. "I... thanks."

"You're shy. Worse than Molly Pritchard was at one time, I think," he teased.

"Mice are always shy," Alex muttered, refusing to look up at him.

With a smile, Jim added, "Well, in my book, any man would be proud to have youon his arm."

There was such an incredible gentleness about him, and Alex forced herself tomeet his hooded stare. "Listen," she said urgently, "if I don't get thisshrapnel out of my shoulder, I'm not going to live. At least dig it out forme, Jim. I can't do it on my own. If the foreign object isn't removed, it willcreate infection and blood poisoning." She looked around at the meagersupplies positioned along the wall. "Can you do it? Will you?"

Jim's stomach knotted. Alex was right: if he didn't do something, she wouldworsen-could even die. And more than anything, he didn't want that to happen."I wish," he rasped, "that none of this had happened, Alex. You don't deserveto be in this situation, to be stuck with me."

"It's a little late for regrets, isn't it?"

With a shake of his head, Jim slowly got to his hands and knees. "Yeah, it is.All I've got is my Kabar knife and a clean compress-plus soap and water." Heglanced over at her. "I'm all thumbs when it comes to delicate work."

"I don't believe that," Alex said. She tried to sound confident and in charge."Sterilize your knife the best you can. And get the compress, soap and waterready to use after you dig out the shrapnel." Her heart was pounding, and shewas scared-scared of the pain she couldn't avoid. But there was no choice: ifthe shrapnel didn't come out, she was as good as dead. And suddenly, Alexdidn't want to die. Surprised at the depth of her survival instinct, Alexfound a startling determination flowing through her for the first time in herlife. Maybe it was that backbone that Jim had talked about earlier. What didhe see in her that she didn't see in herself?

"Okay, gal, I'll get the supplies together. You just lie there and try torelax."

"Yeah...sure. I'm scared to death, Jim. I'm afraid of the pain-of maybebleeding to death once you take out the shrapnel...."

Leaning over, Jim pressed his hand to her good shoulder. "Hush, gal, you'regonna get through this just fine. I've got a good sense about it."

With a whisper, Alex said, "I'm glad you do. I'm just so scared-"

"Don't let the fear make you freeze, Alex, make it your friend. That's what Ialways do."

Alex tried to do as he counseled. She watched him light a small, oblong pieceof metal, a magnesium tab. It flared to life, its white flame making theentire tunnel bright as daylight. A shiver of antic.i.p.ation threaded throughAlex as she watched Jim slowly and carefully pa.s.s the point of theevil-looking Kabar knife through the flame.

"If I remember my anatomy," Alex said, her voice strained, "there's an arterysomewhere in the vicinity of the shrapnel. If it's cut, I'll bleed to death."

Jim looked up sharply. "I'll be careful." His heart twinged. Alex was toobrave, too good, to die-especially at his hands. He'd already killed- AgainJim slammed the door shut on the haunting memory. Still, his hand shook inremembrance, and he released a long, unsteady breath.

"Just think that I'm Tonto, and you're the Lone Ranger come to help," Alexjoked weakly, feeling sweat form on her brow and run down her temple.

"Right now, I wish I could be a doctor," Jim muttered. The knife point wa.s.sterilized. Jim picked up a small piece of wood. "Here, put this between yourteeth like before."

With a nod, Alex took the wood. Her heartbeat rose to a furious rate, and shetensed. As Jim carefully removed the bandage and dressing, Alex shut her eyesand bit down hard on the wood. Oh, G.o.d, it was going to hurt. She tried tothink of another time-when she'd broken her arm trying to emulate her twobrothers by jumping from the roof of the house to a nearby oak limb. They hadderided her, called her a mouse, a coward, until finally, out of hurt andanger, she'd jumped. It hadn't worked, and Alex had fallen twenty feet to theground below.

Alex remembered screaming with the pain that had reared up her arm from thebroken bone. Her mother had run out of the house to her rescue. Alex recalled sitting on the ground as a ten-year-old, holding her right arm, seeing hermother's distraught features. Her two brothers had gathered around her,frantic and unable to help. More than anything, Alex remembered her motherwrapping her arm in a towel. Then, when Alex had tried to stand, she'd faintedfrom the pain. If only she would faint from the pain this time. If only...

Jim sat tensely in the aftermath of digging the shrapnel from Alex's shoulder.She'd fainted seconds into the cruel procedure, and he was grateful for that.It had made his job easier. Still, there was no way he could shield his ownraw emotions from the pain she'd endured so bravely. Looking at the freshcompress and bandage on her shoulder, Jim wondered if he'd done well enough.The wound looked nasty, red around the torn edges of her flesh. Gently, hetouched Alex's slack features. Easing the wrinkles from her brow, Jim absorbedher quiet beauty into his heart. Even her lips were colorless.

"Little brown mouse," he murmured, and he continued to gently stroke her capof sable hair as a mother might soothe a hurt and frightened child. Somehow hecouldn't seem to distance himself from Alex, or the problems he saw ahead. Shehadn't asked to be shot down, or to be here with him. The decision he'd madeafter- He shut his eyes and groaned. Well, at any rate, Alex was the innocentin this whole mess.

Jim knew his leg was healing, although he was in constant pain. But pain wa.s.something he'd learned to live with a long time ago. He looked down at Alexand knew his heart had no defenses against her. What could he do? He couldn'tallow her to die. He certainly couldn't sentence her to the life he'd chosento live. His hand rested on her blanketed right shoulder, and he shut hiseyes. What was he going to do?

Alex groaned. The sound of her own voice pulled her out of her unconsciousstate. She felt a man's hand on her hair, stroking it slowly, and thesensation eased her pain momentarily.

"Alex?"

It was Jim's voice, low and next to her ear. She forced her eyes open toslits. He was leaning over her, his face shadowed, sweaty and tense. He placedhis finger to her lips and she slowly realized she heard other noises...voices.

Jim gripped Alex's hand and looked up toward the tunnel's concealed opening.He recognized the voices as belonging to the VC who owned this territory. Itwas nearly dark, and they probably were aware of this abandoned tunnel. Alexhad been unconscious, moaning off and on for an hour. He'd kept his hand overher mouth, fearing someone would hear them. Now, the VC were very close. Tooclose.

Sweat trickled down the sides of Alex's temples. She felt Jim's grip tightenon her hand. VC were nearby! Her already uneven heartbeat sped up with newterror. In Jim's hand was the Kabar. The dull ache in her shoulder seemed nothing compared to the fear surging through her. She saw the shadow of a manabove the concealed entrance. Her breath lodged in her throat. Jim turned,tense and ready to meet any VC coming down the camouflaged access.

How long Alex lay dripping in her own fearful sweat, her heart thundering inher breast, she didn't know. The shadow disappeared. Gradually, the VC voicesdrifted off. Closing her eyes, Alex sank back against the hard ground. Shefelt Jim's rea.s.suring squeeze on her hand, as if to reward her for remainingutterly silent. Opening her eyes, Alex stared up into his tense, harshfeatures. The changes that took place in him never ceased to amaze her. Onemoment, Jim was a country boy with a soft, Missouri drawl telling storiesabout his growing-up years, the next he was a tiger, ready to strike and killwithout any sign of remorse. The change was frightening, but it also made Alexfeel protected. She knew Jim would fight to save her life if the VC came downthat tunnel entrance.

The danger was past-for now. Jim sat down and gave Alex his undividedattention. He took two pain pills from his first-aid kit and held them up forher to see.

"Take these," he rasped hoa.r.s.ely, then slid his arms beneath her shoulders andlifted her upward.

Alex took the pills in her mouth. Grateful for the water, she swallowed them.As he laid her back down, she whispered, "Thank you."

Awkwardly, Jim drew the blanket across her again. "How do you feel?"