She looked down, knowing the rush of heat in her face made her cheeks red. She didn’t look at him again until he stepped backward. “Have a good night, Captain.”

Chapter
Four

Sunlight shone through the palms and danced across the floor in a soothing rhythm. Cynthia lay in her cot and watched the light and shadows form patterns, listening to the sounds of the village outside her window. As she gradually came awake, it took her a few moments to remember the events of yesterday. When it all came flooding into her mind, she moaned and rolled over, seeking escape.

She had certainly had better beginnings with people than she did with Captain Norton. The circumstances had overwhelmed her until she made him a target. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to have taken it too personally.

When she rolled out of bed, her sore muscles screamed in protest. No wonder she’d slept so long this morning. If she had a fully staffed hospital on her hands, she’d take the morning off. However, she had patients to check on, and no one could do it but her.

She pulled on her last clean pair of cargo pants and a white tank top. On her way out of the hut, she slipped on a cotton shirt and grabbed her laundry bag. She stepped into the bright sunshine and shielded her eyes, gazing down the dirt road at the line of huts going toward the river. Two women walked up the road, water jugs balanced on their heads. She looked in the other direction, up the hill toward a tighter cluster of huts. A kid dashed by on his bicycle.

Nothing appeared out of order. Chukuwereije’s men hadn’t attacked during the night. She rubbed the back of her neck and crossed the road to the clinic ward.

She stepped into the building, appreciating the pine smell of disinfectant. Tadeas sat with his feet on the desk, the chair inclined as far back as it could go, his head back, softly snoring. She let the wooden door slam shut, and he simply raised his head and looked at her. She could tell when he got his bearings as his eyes cleared, and he pulled his feet down and sat up.

“Good morning, Doctor. I left you an egg.” He held out a little plastic bowl that contained a blue-green speckled egg.

“Oh, wonderful,” Cynthia said, taking the bowl from him. “You had some, right?”

“Yes. Three.” He patted his stomach. “And I made some for the patients.”

Cynthia stopped at the shelf and filled her cargo pockets with gloves. “Anything last night?”

“No. I gave Sergeant Sanders more pain medicine at seven, and Doctor Osbourne wants to speak with you.”

“Okay. That accounts for our new guests. How about Hermand?”