Dawn of Valor Read online

  Dawn of Valor

  USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  Lindsay McKenna

  To pilot Chase Trayhern, war was men’s business: Korea in 1950 was no place for a woman! But when angelic nurse Rachel McKenzie saved his chauvinistic hide, Captain Trayhern was forced to change his tune….

  Trapped behind enemy lines, Chase and Rachel grappled for survival. Under fire, impulsive passions ignited, blasting customary courtship. Yet, if they escaped, could a forbidden love forged in the fury of war find an honorable future in the pure light of peace?

  Also available from Lindsay McKenna and HQN Books

  The Last Cowboy

  Deadly Silence

  Deadly Identity

  Guardian

  The Adversary

  Reunion

  Shadows from the Past

  Dangerous Prey

  Time Raiders: The Seeker

  The Quest

  Heart of the Storm

  Dark Truth

  Beyond the Limit

  Unforgiven

  Silent Witness

  Enemy Mine

  Firstborn

  Morgan’s Honor

  Morgan’s Legacy

  An Honorable Woman

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from The Loner

  Prologue

  “Merry Christmas!” Standing in the living room doorway, Rachel Trayhern captured the attention of her three grown children and their respective spouses. Two large, flat packages wrapped in holly-patterned paper and garlanded with shiny ribbons balanced precariously in her arms. Her husband, Chase, came up behind her, bearing a third package.

  Seated on the sofa, Aly, their youngest child and only daughter, laughed and clapped her hands, her short red hair glinting copper mischief beneath a gaily decorated lamp. “Mom, Dad, you really outdid yourselves this time! Look at the size of those gifts, gang. We’re gonna make out like fat rats this Christmas!”

  Clay Cantrell, Aly’s husband, grinned and shook his head. “You’re such a kid, Aly.”

  Aly stood to relieve her mother of the bulky parcels. “And you love it, Cantrell. If it weren’t for me, you’d get serious about life.”

  “Thanks, Aly. Put them on the coffee table, would you?” Rachel instructed as she took a place on the couch and smoothed her dark green slacks. Chase joined her, draping a proprietary arm around her shoulders.

  Chase’s dark hair was liberally sprinkled with silver, yet the lighter strands made his deeply bronzed features more handsome than ever, Rachel thought. Years as a general in the air force had kept his posture straight and proud, his frame as lean as when she’d met him in Korea in 1951. Memories of their war-torn first encounters washed over her, and she gave her husband a secret look, filled with love for him alone, before she addressed the assembled family.

  “Your father and I felt that we should all get together for at least one Christmas.” Rachel’s gaze moved to her left, where Noah, her younger son, sat with his wife, red-haired Kit, and their two young children. “We’re so happy you could all make it. We of all people know how hard it is for military folks to coordinate a trip like this. Thank you for coming,” she said, her voice suddenly husky with emotion.

  Signaling both his presence and his support, Chase squeezed Rachel’s shoulder. In his eyes, his wife was beautiful, hardly showing her age. Her hair was still a sleek black cap, cut short to enhance the natural loveliness of her features. Just that morning he’d complained that he had enough gray hair for both of them—and for once she’d agreed with something he’d said, without an argument.

  Now he looked at Morgan, their oldest son, and his demure wife, Laura. “For some years now,” he began, “our entire family has undergone a trial by fire that your mother and I never could have envisioned.” His throat constricted with feeling as he saw Morgan’s harsh features tauten.

  No, the memories would never go away entirely. The shadow of suspected treason had nearly ruined Morgan’s life—had, in fact, hung dark and heavy over all the Trayherns, nearly blotting out a two-hundred-year family tradition of pride and patriotism. Chase and Rachel’s firstborn had finally been exonerated of all charges relating to his devastating experience in Vietnam, but the emotional price he’d paid—in lost years of youth and innocence, years spent in doubt and dishonor—had been steep. Now he ran a security firm in Washington, D.C., and worked with the C.I.A. and other branches of the government concerned with national security. He’d gotten an honorable discharge and, with his back pay, was able to start his own firm.

  “Getting all of you together means more than we could ever tell you. Because of what happened to Morgan, Aly and Noah suffered much tougher going than they would have otherwise.” He gazed at the other children. They, too, had paid a price as they attempted to hold their heads high, face down prejudice and continue the Trayhern tradition of military service to their country. “Fortunately, in running this gauntlet, you each found a partner you could love, one who believed in you more than in the so-called truth the press and Pentagon were spreading about Trayherns.”

  Rachel nodded in tacit agreement on what was most important in life—values she and Chase had attempted to instill in all three of their children. She thought she saw tears form in Morgan’s eyes and watched as blond, petite Laura reached over, her slender fingers covering Morgan’s large, dark hand, sunburned from years spent overseas. Thank God Laura had come into her son’s life. Without her, Morgan might still be lost to them, might never have come home.

  She felt Chase gently stroke her shoulder, and she returned to the present, to the family gathering. “Since Morgan’s ordeal has finally ended,” she said, “we wanted to celebrate the family. A sort of victory celebration, if you will,” she added quietly. She pointed to the three large packages in gay Christmas paper. “Over the past year, your father and I went through the boxes of photographs we’ve taken since the time you were born.” She smiled gamely, tears once more threatening. “You’re all so wonderful, and you’ve made us so proud.”

  Chase gallantly took over Rachel’s explanation. “Your mother and I sorted the photos, put them in order, noted names and dates and places, and made copies of them for all of you. We thought you might want to share them with your own families now—your children…and their children.”

  Recovering her composure, Rachel winked at Chase. “We even found some photographs of the two of us when we met in Korea during the war. I don’t think any of you ever saw them.”

  “Wonderful!” Aly clapped her hands again.

  “That’s great, Mom,” Noah added eagerly, taking his two-year-old son from Kit.

  “Yeah,” Morgan said with a twinkle in his eye, all traces of sadness gone now. “We never did get the full story on how you two met.”

  “Collided would be a more appropriate word,” Chase said wryly, sharing another secret smile with Rachel.

  Rachel rose, moving to the table. She picked up one of the wrapped photo albums. “Well, let me get these distributed first. Fair enough?”

  An enthusiastic chorus of voices met her ears.

  Approaching Noah, she handed him the package. His military-short black hair and large, intelligent gray eyes made him a heart stopper in Rachel’s opinion. Women had always been drawn to his handsomeness, and later to his crisp Coast Guard uniform; she was glad that Kit valued Noah’s sensitivity eve
n more. It was an essential, if rare, trait in a man—one she’d had to coax out of Chase over the years.

  She smiled at her younger son, who held the package as if it were a fragile, priceless gift. “Thanks, Mom,” he whispered.

  Rachel gave the second package to Aly, who immediately began to rip off the wrapping. Clay rolled his eyes, and Rachel ruffled the short red hair her daughter wore in a becoming pixie style just as she had as a child.

  The last package was for Morgan. “Last, but not least, to our firstborn son…” She kissed his recently shaven cheek.

  Murmuring his thanks, Morgan gently placed the gift in Laura’s lap. “Go ahead,” he encouraged his wife, “you open it.”

  “But it’s your album,” Laura protested softly.

  “Ours,” he corrected, sliding his arm around her to give her a hug.

  Chase’s gaze never left Rachel as she distributed the gifts. When she returned to the couch and sat down, his arm automatically, possessively, went around her.

  Chase, Rachel thought, was her bulwark of strength, allowing her to reach out to their children, to give them the love and support they’d needed to grow, to grow up, and to struggle through so much hardship. As cries of joy and surprise rang through the living room, Rachel leaned against Chase, enjoying their children’s responses to the albums. A fierce love for her husband welled up within her, and she leaned to kiss him quickly but warmly. His eyes sparkled with surprise—and a decidedly masculine promise of things to come.

  “Mom,” Aly broke in breathlessly, jabbing her finger at a photo, “this is you in Korea as an army nurse! Wow, I never saw these before! Please tell us how you and Dad got together.” Glancing at her two brothers, she added slyly, “The three of us know bits and pieces, but not the whole story.”

  Chase chuckled, his arm still around Rachel. “I think I’ll let your mother begin.”

  As if he always deferred to her. Ha! Rachel thought, not without fondness.

  “Honey?” he prompted innocently.

  The room quieted, and, suddenly nervous, Rachel clasped her hands in her lap. “Well,” she began softly, a little bemused, “it was the worst day of my life, if you want to know the truth. I’d finished nurses’ training, joined the army and was promptly sent over to a MASH unit in Korea. I thought I’d be tending patients, nothing more. Was I ever wrong….”

  Chapter One

  Yongchong, Pusan, South Korea

  August 1, 1951

  “Rachel, get the hell out of here! The enemy’s broken through our lines!”

  Rachel whirled around, her green eyes widening. Get a hold of yourself, Rachel McKenzie. Don’t you dare panic! You’ve got one more patient to get aboard that helicopter. She saw the fear in Dr. Bob Short’s face as he stood tensely at the other end of the tent. Their mobile army surgical hospital unit was caught in the middle of a major attack by North Korean soldiers who had broken through the U.N. lines.

  “Did you hear me?” he thundered over the noise of the helicopters landing and taking off outside the MASH unit. “You be on that next chopper!”

  “All right” she yelled back. The rattle of gunfire was growing closer. And so was the constant thump of mortars exploding all around them. “I’ve got one more patient to get aboard, and then I’ll leave.”

  “The rest of the nurses gone?”

  She nodded. “Annie went on the last flight. I’m the only one left besides you three doctors.”

  “We haven’t got much time,” Dr. Short warned. “The Australian commander whose company tried to stop the charge radioed. He says the enemy will be here in fifteen minutes.”

  Licking her dry lips, Rachel moved quickly to the end of the large canvas tent known as “recovery.” Pvt. Larry Constant smiled weakly up at her. He was still in critical condition from receiving a bullet wound in his chest two days ago. His young face was pale, bathed in sweat.

  “Last but not least, Larry,” she joked, meeting his concerned face with a smile.

  His mouth stretched into what was supposed to be a returned smile but pulled into a line of agony. His brown eyes were dark with panic. The drugs weren’t halting the massive pain he endured. “Look, Miss McKenzie, forget about me,” he managed to say. “You’d better hop that chopper yourself. The North Koreans—they’ll torture you—”

  “Hush,” Rachel whispered, efficiently tucking the blankets beneath the thin mattress of the cot. Any moment now, the last two orderlies would carry Larry to the safety of the helo waiting on the landing pad just outside the MASH unit. “Wounded first.” She managed a brave smile, although her stomach was a hard knot of fear. “And I’m not wounded, young man. You are.” Quickly her experienced hands adjusted the IV, getting ready to carry it above Larry’s head when the orderlies took the cot. Rachel noted that her hand was shaking, and she wondered if the private saw her obvious fear.

  Just as the two enlisted men slipped inside the wooden door of the huge rectangular tent, an explosion rocked the area. Rachel bit back a cry, shielding Constant by leaning across the cot. Dirt and rock pelted the tent savagely, making the structure shake and groan.

  “Get him out of here!” Rachel croaked. A quick look confirmed that shrapnel had made several rips in the fabric above their heads.

  “But—” Larry cried, protesting as the orderlies lifted his cot.

  “But nothing,” Rachel said tartly, walking quickly beside him, holding the IV high. “You’re going home, soldier, where you belong. Now stop your chatter. That’s an order.” Her cool efficiency affected the men dramatically. They steadied the cot, making each movement count, and the private shut his eyes and surrendered to her order.

  The lantern light within the tent faded into the gray, brackish dawn as they wove their way between the empty tents. Rachel tried to stabilize her breathing, her heart banging away in her chest as they assaulted the rocky path leading upward to the landing pad. Her MASH unit was the farthest forward in Korea, always the first to take casualties from the constantly shifting front. They had saved hundreds of young men barely out of their teens from dying because of their proximity to enemy lines. Larry Constant was yet another living testament to the importance of the unit being so close to the fighting, in spite of the risk. Despite the valiant effort of Republic of Korea troops, known as ROKs, to halt the surge of North Koreans, the line had broken, and the enemy was now funneling through the break like an out-of-control juggernaut. Rachel knew that her MASH unit stood in their path, unarmed and undefended. It was up to the nurses and doctors to evacuate their patients to safety.

  More mortars landed, spreading eerie yellow and orange tentacles of flames outward. Rachel winced, instinctively moving closer to her patient to protect him. The gunfire was oppressive. Her mind raced. Ten other nurses had made it safely aboard the helos that were now bearing their patients back to MASH units far removed from the front.

  Wind from the whirling blades of the helo that sat on the smooth dirt landing pad buffeted them as they climbed onto the flat surface. Rachel saw the pilot frantically waving his arm out the window, the gesture sharp and obvious. Not wanting to be a stationary target, he urged them to hurry. The orderlies quickly attached the cot to the specially designed runner on the side of the helo that would carry the patient outside the aircraft.

  Rachel realized with a sinking feeling that the helo was already packed with personnel and patients.

  “Two more,” the pilot yelled out the window above the roar. “I can only take two more people.”

  Once Larry was strapped in, Rachel grabbed both orderlies. “John, Pete, get on board.”

  “But, Miss McKenzie, what about you?” Pete asked, his young face covered with grime and sweat.

  “There’s one more chopper coming. I’ll get on board with the doctors.”

  Another mortar went off, this time within thirty yards of the landing pad. The enemy was close enough to try to destroy the aircraft. Giving Pete a shove, Rachel watched the orderlies reluctantly climb on board.
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  “Get out of here!” she shrieked at the pilot. “Lift off, lift off!”

  Rachel ducked low, running from beneath the rotor blades that whipped faster and faster. Dust kicked up in huge, rolling clouds, making her eyes water. Her shoulder-length black hair swirled around her face, and she pulled strands of it away from her eyes. The helo was loaded to its maximum weight, floundering off the pad and fighting to gain altitude. She hurried back down the rocky path toward the tents. Now all she had to do was find the three doctors so they could wait by the pad for the last helicopter to arrive.

  Dr. Steve Hall found Rachel first as she ran between the recovery and surgery tent. He was a colonel and head surgeon of the MASH unit, a man of fifty-five, tall and robust. Gripping her arm, he frowned.

  “Why weren’t you on that last helo, Rachel?”

  They both stood, panting hard, having used the past few hours to remove all their patients from the approaching enemy. “It was full. I’ll be flying out with you guys.”

  Hall nodded grimly. “Stay with me. We need to round up Bob and Joe.”

  Tiredness swept through Rachel. She was stumbling every few steps now, the toes of her heavy black GI boots digging into the freshly churned South Korean soil. The grayness of dawn lay on the horizon like a warning. Following Colonel Hall, weaving between the now empty battle-scarred tents, new emotions that had been held at bay began to filter through Rachel.

  Fear had never entered her mind in her concern for the safety of her patients, who were more like hurt and defenseless children in her eyes. Fierce and protective mothering instincts had made her and the rest of the nurses work tirelessly to evacuate their fifty patients. Thinking back, Rachel realized the enormity of what they had done and suddenly felt more weary than she ever had in her life.

  The mortar attacks stepped up, the sharp bark of rifle fire testing the limits of her coolness. Throughout the evacuation Rachel had maintained her composure for the good of the younger nurses. Her patients, who had already faced the war and been severely wounded, were even more frightened. The only gunfire Rachel had been around was when her father had taken her hunting in the Catskill Mountains of New York State. The sound always hurt her ears. And she really didn’t believe in killing anything.