Mystic Cowboy(52)

Madeline had that same look—a little worried, but not too much—as she handed Mikey off. “We’ll go check, Nelly. Thanks for telling us.”

He fought the urge to grab her hand—not because he was afraid it might be the last touch, but because he wanted her to know that she didn’t need to be afraid, not while he was here. But he didn’t. Jesse was watching. Hell, everyone was watching as they wove their way back to the kitchen.

Walter was gone now, and Irma brushed past them with an old grin on her face. Rebel thought he heard her whisper, “Easy on the eyes, yeah?”

Madeline’s back stiffened and, although he was behind her, he was sure he saw her ears shoot red. But then she giggled and patted Irma on the arm. “Those potatoes were amazing, Irma. The best I’ve ever had.”

No, certainly not the worst idea he’d ever had.

“Yanka.” Albert said.

“Have a seat,” Rebel translated, beginning to wonder what this was all about. The kitchen was now empty; the sounds of people talking and laughing in the next room seemed faint.

Albert began to talk. The beautiful music that was Lakota flowed out of him like an old, well-loved song, one that Rebel never got tired of hearing. He began to translate.

“You are a good doctor,” he said, doing his level best to get the spirit, if not the letter, of Albert’s words right. “You do much good in this world.”

Madeline squirmed in her seat, like she’d never had to just sit and take a compliment before. “That’s sweet, Albert, but you don’t have to—”

Albert’s hand snapped up and cut her off at a speed that impressed even Rebel.

“He’s not done yet,” Rebel chided her. Bad form to interrupt one of the most senior members of the tribe, after all.

“Oh,” she said, blushing even harder. For a second, Rebel got lost in the sunset pink that gave her skin the look of first true love. “Okay. Sorry.”

After a pause that carried a lot more weight than normal, Albert began again and Rebel translated. “You have made your mother and father proud.”

Madeline made a little noise as her hand flew to her mouth. “What?”

Albert nodded. “It wasn’t that they lived or died, it’s how they lived and died,” Rebel translated, keeping a close eye on her. The blood was draining from her face at an alarming pace. “A good life and a good death are all a man can ask for.”

Albert turned those eyes to him, the eyes that had watched him walk away without judgment when Rebel had been too young and stupid to know what he was leaving. The eyes that had watched him crawl back without contempt when he’d realized he could never be who the rest of the world wanted him to be. He knew Albert was talking to both of them.

So it was in the world. A true Lakota warrior didn’t fear death, didn’t hide from his true path. And Albert had always followed his true path. “Today is a good day to die,” Rebel said to his grandfather in English.

Albert nodded, the crinkles around his eyes telling Rebel he was pleased the younger man had finally remembered their truth. “Apetu kile waste ekta te,” Albert repeated in Lakota.

“I don’t...understand.” She was slouched down in her chair, like the weight of her world was resting full on her shoulders, and her hands were shaking. Just like her voice. “I don’t understand.”

Albert stood, steadying himself on the table until his legs caught up with the rest of him. Then he leaned over and kissed Madeline on the cheek. “I’m glad you came.” In English, Albert’s voice had a distinctive rasp that was missing from his Lakota. “I hope you stay.” And he shuffled off to take a tired Mikey from his mother’s arms and rock the baby to sleep. While he still could.

“I don’t understand,” Madeline repeated after a long moment, her hand touching the spot Albert had blessed with a kiss.

“You don’t have to understand.” It was going to be all right, that much he knew. “You just have to believe.”

“Believe what? Believe Albert knows something about my parents?” She shook her head, and when her eyes met his again, he saw some of that fierce, analytical look in them. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing.” He couldn’t help crack a little bit of a smile. “I told you, Albert is a powerful man.”

Her glare was just strong enough to let him know that she considered him lying to be a distinctive possibility, but weak enough to say that she hadn’t ruled out another option. Even if she didn’t know what that option could be.

The confusion was all that was left. She looked like she might cry. “I don’t...I just don’t understand, Rebel. It doesn’t make any sense.”