Free Sooner or Later by Debbie Macomber

Murphy into accompanying her to Zarcero, but not after his insulting proposition. As far as she was concerned, he got what he deserved.
    It troubled her the way her mind continued to return, like a homing pigeon, to their lone night together. It had been a momentary lapse in judgment. She wasn’t perfect, but she wasn’t like her mother either, selling herself and her family for the pleasure she found in the arms of another man.
    The episode wouldn’t be repeated, of that she was confident.
    The boat engine died completely, and Letty stirred beneath the tarp. Turning her face toward the narrow opening, she angled upward to catch a whiff of cool, fresh air.
    “Are we there?” she whispered.
    “I told you to keep quiet,” Murphy answered impatiently.
    “I want out from under here.”
    “All in good time.” He pressed his booted foot against her rump. “Don’t move a muscle, understand?”
    “The area is said to be crawling with rebel troops,” Carlos warned. “Stay off the main roads.”
    Not waiting another moment, fearing Murphy wasn’t to be trusted not to leave her behind, Letty peeled back the tarp and sat upright. Even in the thick night, she felt Murphy’s displeasure.
    The rowboat butted gently against the bank.
    Murphy grabbed Letty’s upper arm and helped her to her feet. “Be as quiet as you can, understand?” he demanded.
    “I wasn’t planning to break into song.”
    Murphy leaped onto the riverbank and left Letty to make her own way out of the boat while he dealt with the equipment.
    Carlos handed him the necessities collected from Ramirez earlier.
    “Be very careful, my friends,” Carlos warned before he made his way back to the helm and artfully steered the dinghy away from the bank. “I will search each night for the signal for your return.”
    “Thank you,” Letty whispered back, and waved.
    “Come on,” Murphy urged, “remember what Carlos said.”
    The old man had said plenty, most of it in an effort to dissuade Letty from going into Zarcero. After a while she had paid little attention.
    “Come on, we’ve got a long walk.”
    “I won’t hold you up,” she said, determined she’d keel over before she gave him the satisfaction. Carlos had given them the name of a friend, someone they could trust, who would put them up for the night.
    After strapping the supplies onto his back, Murphy started walking. Letty hurriedly slung her backpack over her shoulder and followed. Neither spoke.
    In other circumstances Letty would have paused to admire the heavens. A smattering of stars littered the night with tiny beacons of light. After the crushing heat of the day, the cool breeze came as a welcome relief.
    Murphy didn’t give her time to stargaze. She quickened her pace in order to keep up with him and was soon winded, but she didn’t complain. Regulating her breathing, she kept her steps in line with his.
    They rested once, and only then because Murphy thought he might have heard something. He held out his hand, pressed his finger to his lips, and stopped dead in his tracks. The moments seemed interminable. The night spoke to them in snippets of sounds. A bird’s call echoed like crickets, or perhaps monkeys, and the breeze whispered through the thick foliage. Letty smelled orchids. The texture of this country her brother loved so dearly wrapped itself around her.
    After what seemed a lifetime, they continued walking. It came to her that this was the first time she was truly alone with Murphy. Her survival and that of her brother rested squarely on his shoulders. The realization brought home the fact that she knew very little about this man. Not much more than his name and post office box. True, she’d sorted his mail for a number of years, such as it was. A few bills now and again, magazines, most with a military orientation. What she knew about him wouldn’t fill an envelope, and yet she’d trusted him with her life.
    When the farmhouse Carlos had mentioned came into sight,