Warrior's Embrace (51 page)

Suddenly homesick, Kate sank to the floor and
cradled the phone against her shoulder.

“Who is it?” she heard her father shout.
There was murmuring in the background, then Martha came back to the
phone.

“He’s not home yet . . .” Martha’s voice
dropped to a whisper. “I’m sorry, Katie.”

“Me too, Mother.”

“Do you want me to tell him anything for you
when he gets home?”

“No. Nothing.”

What was there left to say? They’d said it
all the day she’d left Charleston.

Kate got the broom and dustpan and cleaned up
the mess in the kitchen.

She wished it were that easy to clean up the
mess in her life.

o0o

Leaves fell from the trees and lay on the
ground like colored confetti. Winds buffeted the wooden sign
against the sides of the clinic.

Dressed in her white lab coat, Kate stood at
the window, looking out. Even the watchers on the hill would have
been a welcome relief from the tedium of emptiness.

Two weeks and no one had come. Her father had
been right: She should have stayed in South Carolina with her own
people.

But no, she had to do it her way. She had the
stubborn Malone pride. And look where it had gotten her. She’d lost
her father, her practice, her best friend ...and Eagle.

She pressed her hands to her temple. She
couldn’t bear to think of Eagle.

Dust rose from the road, and Kate strained
her eyes into the distance. The car slowed as it approached the
clinic. At last she was going to have a patient.

Kate grabbed her stethoscope and hung it
around her neck, then stood waiting. The car came almost to a halt.
An old Indian man leaned out the window and yelled something she
couldn’t hear; then the car picked up speed once more, moving away
from her as fast as it could.

She stood at the window awhile longer, rigid
with shock and anger; then she flung her coat off, not caring that
it landed on the floor. The packing boxes she’d used to move her
equipment into the clinic were still in the back room. She ripped
her blouse getting to them. Possessed of self-righteous fury, she
jerked medical textbooks out of the bookshelves and flung them into
boxes.

Sweat dampened her blouse and the edges of
her hair.

“Kate?” Deborah stood in the doorway. Kate
hadn’t even heard her come in. “What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?” Deborah raced across the room and
clutched her arm. “You can’t leave. We need you.”

“The people here don’t need me, Deborah. They
want nothing to do with me.”

“
I
need you, Kate.”

Quick guilt slashed Kate. She put her hand
over Deborah’s. “I’m sorry. I see no other way.” Turning her back
on her friend, she took an armload of books off the shelves and
dumped them into a box.

Deborah watched quietly for a while, then she
jerked books out of the boxes and began putting them back into
shelves.

“You built this clinic in spite of what
everybody said and did to you, and I’m not going to let you turn
tail and run now just because nobody happens to be sick.” Color
flushed her dark cheeks as she swung on Kate. “Have you ever
thought of that? Maybe everybody in Witch Dance is well. Maybe they
don’t need a doctor right now?”

Tears wet the corners of Deborah’s eyes, then
streamed down her cheeks. “Hal left and now you’re leaving, and
I’ll be stuck forever at the general store, waiting for somebody to
come along and take me away and give me babies.”

All the steam went out of Kate. Of course,
she couldn’t leave Witch Dance. The people needed her and she
needed them.

“I’m afraid I let my Irish temper get the
best of me, Deborah. Help me put these books back.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing all this
time? Whistling ‘Yankee Doodle’?” Wiping her cheeks with the back
of her hand, Deborah grinned.

They worked side by side, not talking, not
needing to talk. When they had put the clinic back to rights, Kate
made tea.

“Have you heard from Hal?” she asked.

“Once. He’s working in a garage in Tulsa.
They fix racing cars. I wish he’d come home. It’s hard at the
general store without him.”

“You don’t have to spend the rest of your
life at the general store, Deborah. And you certainly don’t have to
depend on a man to set you free. Have you ever thought about
leaving? I’m sure you could get into one of the good nursing
schools. I’d help you prepare.”

For a moment Deborah’s face was alight with
excitement, then she hid her expression over the teacup. “Eagle is
very popular with the Tribal Legislature. They say he sometimes
addresses them in the ancient tongue.”

Kate understood only too well the mesmerizing
power of Eagle’s ancient tongue.

“All right. You don’t want to talk about
nursing school.” Kate sipped her own tea. “
I
don’t want to
talk about Eagle.”

“You could get him back, Kate. I know you
could. They say women in Ada swoon in the streets when he walks by,
but he never even looks at them.”

“You shouldn’t pay attention to the idle
gossip of busybodies.”

“Oh, pooh. Where’s the fun if you can’t
repeat gossip?” Deborah’s hair, grown to chin length, swung when
she tossed her head. “Anyhow, someday I’m going to be old with
nothing to do but scold my many grandchildren and entertain myself
with titillating gossip. If you’re not too busy making geriatric
love with Eagle Mingo, I’ll invite you over to listen.”

Kate threw back her head and laughed. It was
the first time she’d laughed in two weeks.

o0o

Eagle was building his house near the Blue
River. Sitting atop the rafters that would soon be a roof, he could
see his summer campsite and hear the river’s music. How could a
sound soothe and lacerate at the same time?

He worked without his shirt, enjoying the
feel of the sun and the autumn breezes on his skin. In the paddock,
his black stallion whinnied. A plume of dust on the horizon
announced a visitor, arriving on horseback.

Shading his eyes, he watched into the
distance. The white mare came into view, and then Kate’s flaming
hair. With nothing to give him strength except his own resources,
he climbed down from the roof and waited.

Kate drew her mount to a halt a few feet from
him and nodded her head in greeting. Neither her eyes nor her face
betrayed her thoughts.

“Mahli is ready.”

“Good. If you’ll leave her here for a few
days, I’ll take you home.”

“That won’t be necessary. She’s in standing
heat. Once will be enough.”

She dismounted and handed him the bridle,
careful that their skin made no contact.

“You can wait in the shade. There’s a thermos
if you get thirsty.”

“No. Mahli is mine. I’ll go with you.”

“It’s not something you’ll want to see.”

“Don’t treat me like a hothouse flower.” She
shoved her hair off her flushed face. “I’ll decide what I should
and should not see.”

“As you wish.”

How polite they were. Like strangers.

They walked side by side to the paddocks, not
touching. The air around them was charged. Eagle felt the electric
currents on his skin.

“How are things at the clinic?” he asked as
if he didn’t know, as if he hadn’t driven by a dozen times and
parked on the hillside to watch and wait.

“Is your inquiry official or personal,
Governor?”

“Kate . . .”

“I’m here for one reason, Eagle—so your
stallion can cover my mare. Let’s get it over with.”

His hands tightened on the reins. She wanted
to get it over with, did she? He’d be only too glad to oblige.

“Wait here.” He left her at the fence railing
and led Mahli inside an empty paddock. He didn’t dare turn his
stallion loose with her until he was safely outside the fence.
Already the big black was pawing the air.

Kate leaned over the fence, fascinated.

“Stand back, Kate.”

Her quick Irish temper ignited. By all the
saints, she was through being told what to do, especially by the
man who found her good enough to bed but not good enough to
wed.

“You may be governor of the Chickasaws, Eagle
Mingo, but as you so clearly told me, I’m not Chickasaw.” She
tossed her head so that her red hair went flying around her face.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Stand back under your own power or under
mine. Take your choice.”

“I choose to stand right here.”

They struck sparks off each other as their
eyes met.

“My stallion is at stud. He’ll be
dangerous.”

“Aren’t they all?” She didn’t budge an
inch.

“You’re an exasperating woman, Kate
Malone.”

Eagle unfastened Mahli’s bridle and flung it
over the railing, then he vaulted over and lifted Kate off her
feet.

“Put me down.”

He plunked her down without ceremony a few
feet from the fence, but not before he’d paid a terrible price.

“You will stand here, and you will not move
any closer.” His jaw was clenched hard enough to break teeth.

“Barbarian.”

Her chest heaved with anger, and her nipples
pushing against the thin fabric of her shirt were hard. It took all
his willpower to keep from throwing her onto the ground and taking
her as fiercely as his stallion would cover her mare.

“
Wictonaye
.”

“Don’t . . .” She held out one hand as if to
ward him off.

“You’re in no danger from me, Kate, only from
my stallion.”

He stalked off and let the big black into the
paddock. The mare whinnied and exposed herself. Winking, the
technique was appropriately called.

And so the mating ritual began.

Eagle stood a few feet apart from Kate,
rigid. Every ragged, angry breath she took burned his lungs; every
small movement she made jarred his bones.

In the paddock the stallion circled, snorting
and sniffing. Mahli pranced, teasing him. Screaming, the stallion
mounted, his front hooves flailing the air. Mahli sidestepped, and
the stallion bit her neck.

“Stop them.” Kate rushed toward Eagle and
grabbed his arm. “For God’s sake, stop them. He’s going to kill
her.”

“He’s holding her in place, Kate. It’s
natural.”

Eagle balled his hands into fists and
resisted the urge to cover Kate’s hand with his own. She stood
beside him, tense, her fingers hot coals upon his skin.

In the paddock, hooves pounded the ground and
dust billowed with the fury of the mating. The stallion’s
triumphant scream went on and on.

“There’s nothing natural about it. Stop
them.”

“No. Not until the stallion’s seed is
planted.”

“If you don’t stop them, I will.”

He had her in his arms before she’d taken two
steps.

“Put me down.” She beat her fists against his
chest.

“I’m taking you back to the clinic.”

“I’ll scream.”

“Scream. There’s no one to hear.”

“Damn you, Eagle Mingo.”

Her heart beat against his, and the wind blew
her soft hair against his cheek. Wide-eyed, she stared at him, her
lips slightly parted. He leaned close, so close, her warm, sweet
breath mingled with his, so close, their lips were almost
touching.

She wet her bottom lip with her tongue, and
Eagle died inside. Slowly he set her on her feet.

“I am already damned.”

o0o

The thunderstorm made her baby restless. Anna
pressed her hand over her stomach and felt the hard kicks, as
strong as either of her boys. She smiled. Her Mary Doe was going to
be a tomboy.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right, Anna.”
Cole hovered anxiously over her. “I don’t have to go into Ada.”

“Dovie needs you. It’s too hard on her to
drive Winston home in this rain.”

“Eagle can go.”

“Eagle needs to finish his house.” Anna
kissed her husband and shooed him out the door. “This little one is
not due for another two weeks. If you’re not back by then, I’ll
send the sheriff after you.”

Cole was laughing when he left. Anna was
pleased. All of them had much to laugh about these days. Winston
was getting about with the aid of a walker; Eagle had forgotten the
pale-skinned medicine woman, and soon another little Mingo would be
coming into the world.

She went into the kitchen, humming, and began
to assemble ingredients for gingerbread. From the den came the
sounds of a Bugs Bunny cartoon and her sons’ laughter. Anna rolled
the dough onto her floured board, then reached under the cabinet
for her cookie tin.

A pain doubled her over. She clutched her
stomach, groaning. Another pain hit, and she felt the hot sluice of
liquid between her thighs. The front of her dress stained red as
blood ran down her legs and pooled on the kitchen floor.

“Cole! Cole!” she screamed.

“What is it, Mommy?” Her boys appeared at the
door. When they saw her, their faces crinkled in horror.
“Mommy!”

“It’s all right,” she said, knowing it
wasn’t. “Run, catch Daddy”

Clint and Bucky raced toward the door,
screaming for their father. A small eternity passed before they
returned, an eternity in which her baby’s secure world was being
torn from her body.

“He’s gone! Daddy’s gone.”

The children huddled around her skirts,
staring down at the blood.

“What’s wrong, Mommy,” Clint whined.

“Your baby sister is trying to be born, and
she needs you to help her. Bucky, go to the bathroom and get some
towels. Clint, help me to your daddy’s truck. We’re going to
Ada.”

“How?” he asked, knowing his mother never
drove.

“You can shift gears, and I’ll hold it in the
road.”

Blood trailed behind her to the door. So much
blood.

o0o

Eagle was atop his house, finishing the
shingles, when he saw Cole’s pickup truck weaving down the road.
Alerted, he stood up and shaded his eyes. The truck was going at a
snail’s pace, veering sharply now.