am.” Joe felt like he was in a dream. As a half-breed Comanche who’d grown up in Texas, he’d long been an outcast. Joe had had a hardscrabble life as a child, and been the victim of jeers and taunts throughout twelve years of school, where prejudice followed him mercilessly. He felt the army was giving him a chance to prove he was better than the names he’d been called, and he worked longer and harder than anyone else, trying to prove his self-worth.
All his life he’d been told he was worthless, except by his family, who loved him. That love had given him hope to cling to when things got bad at school. Joe worked hard at never making a mistake, because to make one, in his books, was the worst thing he could imagine. It would prove he was a “dumb redskin” who was too stupid to learn. He never told anyone of his heritage—ever. Now, as he sat there hearing words he’d never thought possible, it seemed as if all his hard work was going to pay off—he was going to be X.O. of a base! That was mind-blowing to Joe. He could barely sit still because of the happiness exploding through him. Finally, someone was going to give him a chance to prove himself!
“Now…can you tell me a little of how the night ops training went between you and Chief Redtail?”
Furrowing his brows, Joe avoided the C.O.’s penetrating gaze. Clearing his throat, he opened his large, square hands. “Ma’am, she caught on the quickest of all the pilots when we trained her on the night scope we wear on our helmet to see in the dark.”
Smiling to herself, Maya continued to hold his candid gaze. Just as she’d thought, Joe Calhoun—who had seemed from the start to be a throwback to a kinder, gentler time when women were put on pedestals and treated like ladies—was showing his warm, amicable nature. Maya had seen Calhoun’s carefully written reports on the women pilots he’d trained. Oh, he’d been specific about weaknesses and strengths in night ops activities, but nary a word had been said about possible personal problems between himself and Akiva Redtail.
“Joe,” Maya said, her voice ringing with authority, “it’s very important for me to get the gist of the chemistry between you and Chief Redtail. After all, she’s going to be your C.O. at this new base. I have more than a passing interest in how you two might get along.” Maya’s mouth twisted wryly. “There’s a great Texas saying I heard from one of my pilots, who was born there—‘you don’t drop your gun to hug a grizzly bear.’”
Maya’s meaning wasn’t lost on Joe. Shifting uncomfortably in the chair, he rubbed his sweaty palms on his jungle-fatigue pants. “Yes, ma’am, I’m familiar with the phrase.”
“Good.” Maya pinned him with her narrowed gaze. “So, does it clarify the relationship between you and Chief Redtail?”
Joe pushed his long, thick fingers through his short black hair, as he did whenever he was nervous. There was a lock that always rebelled and dipped across his brow. Nervously, he pushed it back. “Ma’am, with all due respect, I really admire Chief Redtail. She’s the best combat pilot you’ve got here at Black Jaguar Base, in my opinion.”
Maya heard the respect and admiration in Calhoun’s soft drawl, but she also saw his struggle to remain positive. Maya knew it was important to get all the cards laid out on the table, to have all the possible problems addressed now—not later, when they were in Mexico, fighting like two cats in a dogfight. Joe’s easygoing Texas style made it hard for Maya to think that even Akiva’s acidic temper could rile this good ole boy. Joe had, in her assessment, the patience of Job. He was infinitely tolerant, which would well work for him in this upcoming project, as Akiva was none of those things. Maya hoped Joe could provide the necessary balance to make this operation successful.
“I’m in agreement with you, Chief Calhoun, about Akiva’s skills. She’s the best we’ve got, which is one reason we’re earmarking her for this mission. The other is that in your reports on the pilots, she scored consistently highest on night-scope trials with the Apache. We are in need of two pilots, the best two, because a lot of missions are going to be at night, out over the Gulf. You know as well as I do that flying over a large expanse of water poses potential problems with pilot disorientation. And flying at night, with the scope, is twice as tricky.”
Nodding, Joe saw her expression remain hard. He could feel the C.O. casting around for something, and he knew what it was. Joe just didn’t want to give it to her. He didn’t want to paint Akiva in a bad light. It wasn’t his nature to talk negatively of people; rather, he was always upbeat and positive about their strengths, never shooting them down for what they didn’t do right, or what their weaknesses were.
God knew, he had his own set of problems to work on, and he wouldn’t appreciate someone disemboweling him in public. His father, who was full-blood Comanche, had taught him to speak well of a person, that if he did so, energy would come back tenfold to him as a result. It was easy to eviscerate people, to tear them apart verbally, to shame or humiliate them. Joe had found that out early in his life. And he didn’t ever want what had happened to him at school, to happen to others. The stubborn part of him, which was considerable when tapped, was rising to the surface as Major Stevenson continued to stare at him.
He felt like she was looking inside him and reading his mind. Lips pursed, he waited. What did she want? Why did she want to hear that Akiva Redtail practically hated the ground he walked on? Joe had never figured out why, exactly, Akiva disliked him so openly; he had chalked it up to a clash of personalities. Given his easygoing nature, he let her venomous comments and glares slide off him like water off a duck’s back, and he didn’t take it personally. At least, he tried not to….
“How do you feel toward Chief Redtail?” Maya asked in a low tone.
Brightening, Joe grinned. “She’s an incredible combat pilot, ma’am. I really enjoyed teaching her the upgrade on the night optics. She was a pleasure to work with.” Joe was, in fact, very drawn to Akiva, but she sure didn’t like him, so he kept his desire for her to himself.
“So—” Maya fiddled with the pen in her fingertips and frowned down at it “—you have no problem going on this mission with her?”
“No, ma’am, I don’t.”
“Not one problem, Chief?”
Joe shook his head. “No, ma’am. She’s all guts and glory, as we say in the trade. She’s already bagged a Russian Kamov. And she’s aggressive. That’s what it takes out there—we both know that. I’m looking forward to being her back seat, to tell you the truth. I can learn plenty from her.”
Smiling thinly, Maya raised her head and stopped thumping the pen against the desk. Joe’s expression was so damned easy to read. The guy hid nothing in that square face of his. His gray eyes were wide and earnest. “I don’t think it’s telling any stories out of school, Chief, that Akiva rides roughshod on some people.” Mainly white, Anglo men, but Maya swallowed those words.
Shrugging, Joe said, “I think most combat pilots are perfectionists, ma’am, and they get sour milk real fast when things aren’t right. Their lives depend upon the equipment workin’ constantly and the crew doin’ their job like they’re supposed to do. I don’t fault her on that in the least. Do you?”
Maya smiled to herself, liking Joe’s ability to stress the positive. “I agree with you, Chief.” Still, Akiva would wear him down, and Maya wondered how thick Joe’s hide really was. How long could he handle her acidic responses to him before he reared up on his hind legs and fought back? That was the fly in the ointment on this mission. It all hinged on Joe’s patient, plodding personality, his ability to get along with her, no matter what.
“Ma’am, I feel you’re like a huntin’ dog sniffin’ around for a bone of contention
