Mystic Cowboy(49)

“Yes, ma’am,” came the distant reply, already thirty feet down toward the shed. And then he was gone.

“Come on,” Rebel whispered. “Albert’s waiting.”





Chapter Ten

“You seem nervous,” she said as they got ever closer to the house.

“I’m not,” he defended. Maybe a little too quickly.

Stopping again, she shot him a look that was easier to read in the stronger light. Hell, he was lucky she was just looking at him. “You said you trusted me.” Her voice was low but warm.

He swallowed. The challenge was in her eyes, and he was suddenly afraid he wouldn’t be able to meet it. “I do.”

Her smile was small, but it looked just right on her face. “Then trust me.” And she walked into the circle of light. He had no choice but to follow.

Everyone is here. He watched a hundred different daily soap operas play out before his eyes. Current lovers avoided old ones as the people in between tested the waters. Kids played hide and seek in the shadows, never far from the fire. Tim, the law around here, was keeping an eye on Oscar and the other ones who never had enough money for food but always seemed to be able to buy beer.

It would have been funny if he wasn’t, in fact, nervous. One after another, his friends—his family—called out to him from around the fire and then pulled back when they realized the good doctor was at his side. He could see the confused looks on their faces as they all politely welcomed Madeline to the party—which was something, he guessed. They were looking at her, talking to her. Everyone seemed to agree that the white woman amongst them existed, although the jury was still out on whether or not she belonged.

He saw the looks people gave each other over the fire. He knew they were jumping on the nearest conclusion—the correct conclusion—that she was not just here with him, but here with him. That he’d lost his heart to another white woman, another outsider who would blow away with the breeze as soon as she was done with him, done with all of them. That their medicine man didn’t want one of his own. That he was a traitor, again. That he would always betray the Lakota way.

This is not a good idea.

If Madeline noticed the tension that gripped the air, she didn’t let on. She was, if anything, more friendly now than he’d ever seen her. Instead of the curt hello she used at the clinic, here she told people how happy she was to see them, asked how they were doing, and even shook a few people’s hands.

And she did it while keeping an eye on him. Nervous? Hell, he was practically paralyzed. But now, his fear had switched from worrying about her reaction to everyone else’s reaction. And those fears, it seemed, were a lot more justified.

“Is Albert inside?” she asked, tugging on the duffel.

Inside. More people inside. He swallowed again. It was becoming a regular occurrence. “Yeah. Come on in.”

The people in front of the house parted for them. Rebel felt the air cooling and it had nothing to do with the night. Snap out of it, he ordered himself. Pull it together.

“Oh, Dr. Mitchell.” Tara was the first to notice them. She was holding Mikey in her arms. “You’re...here.”

“Tara, isn’t it time you started calling me Madeline?” She wrapped an arm around Tara in what looked like an awkward hug and chucked Mikey under the chin. “Who’s this cute little guy? How old are you, buddy?”

Mikey, for one, was downright gleeful to see the pretty white woman. Within seconds, his chubby little hand was locked onto a swath of Madeline’s curls. “This is my nephew, Mikey—he’s eighteen months old,” Tara said, trying to pull Mikey away without pulling Madeline’s hair. “My sister’s son.” She looked over her shoulder to her sister. “Tammy, have you met the new doctor?”

Tammy Tall Trees was a slightly shorter, slightly heavier and much quieter version of Tara. Rebel had to hide his grin as Madeline studied the two of them. He could tell she was thinking they looked a hell of a lot more alike than he and Jesse did. Helped to have the same parents. “It’s so nice to meet you. Tara, I didn’t know you had a sister.”

Something blunt hit him in the shins. “Ow!” he snapped, looking down to see Jesse pulling the crutch back toward the couch. “What the hell was that for?”

Jesse’s eyes darted between Rebel and Madeline. “You didn’t bring me any chew,” he said with his mouth. His eyes, however, asked what Madeline was doing here.

“That shit’s not good for you,” Rebel shot back. He lifted an eyebrow to send the message, because I brought her, to his brother.