Mystic Cowboy(40)
“Nobody,” he growled, ready to rip his friend’s face off for scaring her so badly. He didn’t want her to be afraid. Not now, not ever. “What the hell are you doing?”
“You?” Nobody said, turning the question into a demand.
What was he doing? Nope. Not a shot in holy hell he was going to stand here and let this man cop that attitude. “Go to hell.”
“Who?” Madeline asked weakly.
“Nobody,” he repeated. “Show yourself. You’re scaring the good doctor.”
As he snorted, Nobody lowered the flashlight. After a few seconds, Rebel’s eyes adjusted to the light and he pushed Blue Eye out of the way. “Madeline, this is Nobody Bodine. Nobody, you remember Dr. Madeline Mitchell. If I recall, she was kind enough to pull a bullet out of you. Which is more than I’d do for you right now.”
“Nobody...Bodine?” Her death-grip on his arm loosened. “You—your name is Nobody?”
Rebel glared. If Nobody didn’t show some proper respect, he’d have a whole hell of a lot more to worry about than some piddling little flesh wound.
“Yes, ma’am,” Nobody finally said. “I’m Nobody.”
“I dug a bullet out of you—and you never came back for a checkup.” That was better. Rebel shook a little of his fight off. Madeline wasn’t terrified—not as terrified, anyway. She was working her way right back over to Dr. Mitchell at a surprising rate. Good recovery, he thought with a smile. A woman who really can deal.
“Yes, ma’am. Appreciated that. Rebel checked on it for me.” Three sentences in a row—a new Nobody record. At least he was talking to her, Rebel reasoned. He wasn’t known for acknowledging white people even existed.
She spun back to him, and even in the scattered flashlight, he knew he was in trouble. She was pissed. All her flight had clearly screamed right on over to fight. Which, while maybe a little dangerous, was a hell of a lot better than terrified. He’d take it.
“You? What did you do?”
She was not going to like this. “Traditional healing medicine.”
Her mouth open and shut. “Neosporin?”
Nobody cleared his throat. “Ma’am, it was a sweat lodge.”
It was official—this was the worst possible ending to an almost-date he’d ever had. Made just having blue balls look like a walk in the park. Her mouth—kissing it seemed like a distant memory—wrenched itself into the ugliest snarl he’d ever seen on her. “You are not a doctor, Rebel. Stop practicing medicine before you kill someone. And you!” She turned on Nobody, who had the decency to flinch. “I expect to see you at the clinic for a proper check-up first thing Monday morning, or I will call the police. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Nobody said, sounding resigned to his fate.
Madeline stomped to her Jeep so hard that Blue Eye skittered out of her way, and Rebel thought it prudent to do the same. Without another word, she fired up the engine and was peeling out in reverse, narrowly missing them all as the gravel went flying.
“This better be fucking good,” Rebel snarled. His shoulders squared around and he dropped into a crouch. He might not be able to beat Nobody, but he’d make a hell of a dent trying.
Nobody stared him down, barely even moving an eyebrow. Yeah, there was that damn stoicism again. “They’re gonna do it again,” he finally said in the tense stillness. “Gun?”
Have you considered the possibility that it’s not the flu? Madeline hadn’t, but Rebel had. The rancher to the north of the rez was up to something, but no one knew what. Hell, no one else even suspected something wasn’t right—except Nobody. He’d been watching, waiting for his chance to get some proof.
“At the camp. Do we have time?”
Nobody nodded as he whistled for his horse. They needed the gun. Nobody had gone unarmed and alone last time, and see where that had gotten him? They mounted up and took off.
They didn’t have a moment to lose.
Chapter Nine
Mondays suck. That’s all there is to it, Madeline thought as she hefted another box out of the Jeep. Mondays just suck.
Especially since it wasn’t even seven in the morning yet. It wasn’t even seven, and yet here she was, frantically unpacking box after box.
No, no, she wasn’t frantic. Not at all. She was not frantic, panicked, or even nervous. She wasn’t agitated in the least about losing her head around a naked Rebel. No, what she was concerned about—yes, that was it, concerned—was his dangerous belief that being a medicine man somehow qualified him to practice actual medicine.