Free Tender Savage by Iris Johansen Page A

campaign.”
    She smothered a yawn with her hand. “Already?”
    “It could be the last campaign of the war. We’ve only been waiting for Ricardo to lead us.”
    More war, more violence, and Ricardo in the thick of it. She felt a cold sickness in the pit of her stomach. Hadn’t he been through enough for his glorious revolution? A sudden memory of Ricardo’s expression as Jurado had taken them both from the cell block came back to her. “He’s angry with me.”
    “Yes, he’s angry with both of us. I told you he would be.” Paco stood up and looked down at her. “But you did well, Lara.”
    “Did I?” Her eyes were irresistibly closing as sleep once again claimed her. “It was all like a bad dream. I felt so helpless….”
    When Lara awoke some time later, she was alone and had no idea how long she had slept. The flames of the lanterns fastened to the craggy stone walls still burned brightly, but she had slept so soundly, she knew she wouldn’t have awakened if someone had come in a dozen times to refill them.
    She sat up slowly, gingerly, and experienced a rush of relief. Movement was still painful but atleast tolerable now. She tossed aside the blanket and started to stand up.
    “Wait, I’ll help you.”
    A curly-haired boy of eight or nine appeared in the arched opening across the chamber and hurried toward her. He was dressed in the same green army fatigues as the other soldiers she had seen, but they swamped his small body. His brow was wrinkled with concern as he took her arm and helped her to her feet. “You mustn’t move too quickly or you’ll open the wounds, and Ricardo will be angry with me.”
    “Who are you?”
    “I’m Manuel Delguero. I take care of you.”
    The words were spoken with such quaint gravity, she found herself smiling at him. “Oh, you do?”
    He nodded. “It’s a great honor. Ricardo said that someday the people of Saint Pierre will tell tales around the camp fires of how bravely you came to the Abbey to rescue him.”
    She blinked. “Somehow I doubt that.”
    He frowned fiercely. “Ricardo said so.”
    And evidently what Ricardo said was law to the boy. “What are you doing here?”
    “I told you; I take care of you.”
    “No, I mean here in the caverns. Where are your parents?”
    “Dead.” His voice was without inflection. “Everyone is dead. The junta’s army killed them and Ricardo brought me to the caverns to live.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Oh, I don’t remember them. I was only a baby.”
    He was little more than a baby now, Lara thought with compassion. “And you live here in the caverns?”
    He nodded. “For a while I lived with María in a nearby village, but three years ago Ricardo sent Paco to bring us here. María helps the doctor.” His voice was proud. “And I help Ricardo. He said he needed me at his side.”
    The children following the Pied Piper, she thought with a bittersweet pang. “But didn’t you like living in the village more than here?”
    He gazed at her in bewilderment. “I’m a soldier.The revolution needed me. Ricardo needed me.”
    “I see.” She didn’t see. She didn’t understand a world where young men like Brett ended up in wheelchairs and small children became soldiers. “Well, I need you to help me too. I’m filthy and this gown I’m wearing is in rags. Is there somewhere I can take a bath and then get something clean to wear?”
    He nodded eagerly. “That’s why I’m here. To guard you and see to your needs.”
    She grimaced. “Well, at least he doesn’t make you carry a gun.” She moved toward him, the rough stone floor cold beneath her bare feet. “Shoes. Can you find me some shoes?”
    “Leave everything to me, señorita.” He waved his hand grandly. “I won’t fail you.”
    He didn’t fail her. The underground pool he led her to was icy cold but clear as a diamond. He helped her remove the bandages, provided her with shampoo, soap, towels, and a washcloth, and then discreetly turned his back as