Mystic Cowboy: Men of the White Sandy, Book 1

by Sarah Anderson

  “Why are you going so slow?” Madeline demanded, the wind snatching her words out of the air and bending them until she sounded like she was howling. Blue Eye tossed her head in agreement. This was way, way too slow.

  Because the slower they went, the longer he could put this off, that’s why. He had no reason to expect the same reaction from a different woman. None. Hell, she already knew everyone.

  But that didn’t stop the clawing worry.

  Finally, after what seemed like milliseconds but was probably twenty minutes of trying and failing to keep Blue Eye reined in, they hit the last dirt road. He could see cars already parked haphazardly along the road. Grocery day was as good a day as any to have a party, after all. It was what Albert wanted, and he wasn’t going to let a little thing like feeling lousy interrupt a good party.

  He didn’t want to dismount, as if staying safely up on his horse would somehow change the fate of the free world. Madeline parked in the grass behind the last car and hauled out a duffel bag half her size. Her back bowed under the weight.

  Shit. He had to get off the horse. Only an asshole would let her carry that duffle around by herself. “Here. I’ve got it.”

  She came up firing even as she let him take the duffel. “You know what you’ve got? You’ve got my boots. I want them back.”

  “Not so sure about that,” he replied, taking a long step to put him out of swinging range. This was more like it. She was pulling, and he was enjoying it. “Those were serious blisters. It wouldn’t be sound medical advice to continue irritating your skin like that.”

  She snorted, but kept pace. A slow pace. “You’re a fine one to be dispensing medical advice over there.”

  He smiled in spite of the dread fact that they were getting closer to the light of the fire. There was no backing out now—but then, there’d been no backing out, period, not since he’d showed up at her clinic tonight, intent on seeing her again. All of her. He had the sudden urge to take her hand, to hold onto that touch for as long as he could, just in case. Just in case. “Don’t have to be a doctor to know that intentionally blistering your feet is not a good idea.”

  They passed another car. “Rebel,” she said, and he heard the note of uncertainty in her voice. “How many people are coming to dinner?”

  “I went grocery shopping. Anyone who needed groceries is here.”

  She stopped behind the third car in line, Henry’s rusted-out Camaro long past its muscle car prime. “But it looks like half the rez is here.”

  He couldn’t help but smile at the amazement in her voice. Amazement. Not horror. And that, in itself, was amazing. “Nah. Probably only forty or fifty people.”

  “You bought groceries for forty or fifty people?”

  He noticed it was taking that much longer to get to the house than normal. So? “In case you haven’t noticed, the only grocery stores on the rez are the Quik-E Mart and the food pantry. And Nelly could eat a pound of fresh strawberries in one sitting. Besides,” he added, knowing he needed to take a step forward, a step toward those strawberries but still not able to move his feet, “I wanted everyone to have reliable beef for a while.”

  She let that slide. And she took a step toward him, a step closer. The dim light of the fire behind her gave all those wild curls a 24-karat glow, and the moon above made her eyes gleam like the brightest turquoise. She was such a jewel, a jewel of the High Plains. “And how exactly did you do that?” Her voice dropped a notch. He could see the wheels turning. She was trying to pull again, but she was going about it a new way. New since Saturday, anyway. “Hook a rack wagon up to Blue Eye?”

  Shit, it was working too. Damn intruding zippers. She was going to pull him right over the edge. “Jesse’s not exactly capable of handling a stick shift right now. I took his truck. Like when you get your...supplies.”

  Moving with what he prayed was steady deliberation, she took another step in and then placed a single hand right over his pounding heart. Her eyelashes fluttered as she gave him the kind of look that would bring him to his knees in broad daylight. “And where did you get that kind of money?”

  He couldn’t help it. The duffel hit the ground and he had one hand on her neck, the other around her waist, and she was right where she belonged. “Somebody bought a bag,” he whispered as he kissed her ruby lips. Right where she belonged. And, as she nipped at his lower lip, it was painfully, wonderfully obvious that she knew it too.

  Everything that had been wrong with the world for the last five days was suddenly right. Five days without seeing her had been five of the longest days of his life. Five days with no one challenging him every step of the way, no one to spar with, no one who brought so much light into his life to look forward to. Five days that made six years seem like a three-day weekend. Five days that had been the longest decade of his life. And suddenly, with her back where she belonged, he wanted time to slow even more, so he’d never have to let go of her. He never wanted to let go of her.

  Until he heard the twig snap. His head shot up so fast that Madeline didn’t have time to release her hold on him. She nipped a hole into his lower lip as a dark figure stepped out from behind a van on the other side of the road.

  Not again, he thought.

  But it was different this time. Without the blinding flash of light, even Madeline could see that Nobody Bodine was watching them. She spun around with a much smaller squeak this time and jammed her hands onto her hips with enough force that Rebel was afraid she’d bruise herself. “Nobody! Stop sneaking up on us!”

  Rebel smiled again. Nobody hadn’t had to tell him she’d given him hell when he’d finally left Rebel Monday afternoon. Nobody snapped his hat off his head as he nodded to her. “My apologies, ma’am.” Then he looked to Rebel.

  He knew what the man wanted. He’d known Nobody for a long time, and had gotten something like good at reading him. “She got it all ready to go out in the mail tomorrow.”

  Nobody crushed his hat to his chest. It was as much of a tell as he had. “Much obliged, ma’am. I’ll watch the clinic tonight, then.”

  Madeline took an agitated step toward him, and Nobody took a parallel step back.

  “You’ll what?”

  Nobody shot him a pained look, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Rebel shrugged his shoulders. Yeah, he thought, whatcha gonna do about her?

  “Ma’am, I’ll guard the clinic. It wasn’t easy to get those things. I don’t want nothing to happen to them.”

  Wow. Another three sentences. Something about Madeline made the normally silent man downright chatty.

  This fact didn’t seem to impress her, though. She jutted out her chin and said, “You mean, you aren’t coming to dinner? I thought everyone was coming to dinner?” in the same kind of voice she used when another whatever-it-was broke on her. Rebel decided that was just the way she talked when reality didn’t meet her high expectations. Which threw him right back over into worried about dinner.

  Well, he wasn’t the only one worried about dinner, although Nobody would never admit to it. “Your groceries are still in the back of the truck. Parked behind the shed. Extra carrots,” Rebel added. Nobody’s horses were the most important things in his life.

  Madeline elbowed him in the ribs. “You should come to dinner, Nobody. The clinic will be fine.”

  “Ma’am.” Nobody took a deep breath. “Two of my horses died. And they shot me,” he added, almost as an afterthought. No doubt about it, the dead horses were the more important of the two events. “I’ll be at the clinic, just to be safe.” And then he stepped back into the shadows. Rebel knew no one else would see him, no one else would even know Nobody had been here. Just Madeline. Whether he liked it or not, Nobody had to trust her too.

  “Wait. Nobody, wait!” Despite her call, he didn’t reappear.

  But that didn’t mean he was gone. “He’s listening,” Rebel whispered in her ear, savoring the way one of her curls danced over his nose. “Go on.”

  Madeline nodded. She just took
it all in stride. Just another night on the rez, and she could deal. Suddenly, Rebel knew it was high time to get her up to see Albert. “Can you leave me a list of what was wrong with your horses? What were their symptoms?”

  “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.

  Jesse looked around the room, silent except for Mikey squealing in delight at the strange hair that tickled his hands and Tammy politely making small talk with Madeline. Big risk, Jesse’s surprised look said.

  Rebel knew this. But he’d done it anyway, despite it not being a good idea at all. He shrugged.

  Jesse wagged his eyebrows, and Rebel knew exactly what he was thinking. He made a motion to kick Jesse’s cast, but Jesse cut him off at the knees. “Doctor, I’m glad you could come and see me,” he said with that impish smile that Rebel fiercely hated, his eyes not leaving Rebel’s face. “When the hell can I get out of this cast?”

  The spell of the room seemed to shatter into chatter. Tara and Tammy roundly scolded Jesse for cursing in front of the children, Madeline shook her head at him like he was acting like the irritating little brother he really was and people met Rebel’s eyes, nodding their heads.

  And through it all, Madeline kept an eye on Rebel.

  “Three more weeks,” he heard her say. He snapped his attention back to her. “I’m sure Rebel will truck your butt in when you’re good and ready.”

  “You have no idea,” Jesse moaned in a slightly faked whine.

  “Sure I do. Broke my leg falling off a horse when I was fifteen,” she replied. “Now, where’s Albert?”

  “Kitchen,” Jesse replied. “He’s always in the kitchen.”

  With a nod of her head, Madeline motioned for Rebel to lead on. The kitchen was warm to the point of sweaty. Albert was in his normal chair, looking better now than he had when Rebel had left a few hours ago. The color had returned to his face, and the pain had eased back from his eyes. He could pass for normal.

  Walter White Mouse was sitting across from him, cigarette dangling out of his mouth as he boomed laughter across the room. Irma was standing next to Terry, Tara’s mom, as they made the fry bread and peeled the potatoes. Nelly was on sink duty, rinsing strawberries with her head cocked in the way that said she was struggling to understand the jokes Walter and Albert told in Lakota.

  Albert looked up at the two of them, almost side by side in the doorway, almost touching. And he smiled. “Hemaca wakta niye au cante skuye,” he said.

  “What?” Madeline’s smile faltered, just a little.

  Nelly turned around, half-eaten strawberry in her hand and her face scrunched in concentration. “He’s glad you came, wight? That’s what he said, wight, Webel?”

  Thank heavens Nelly hadn’t blurted out the part where Albert called Madeline sweetheart—as in Rebel’s sweetheart. “Good. That was good, Nell-Bell.” This was the most normal thing in his world, the grocery-day party, the people crowded in and around the tiny house, the traditions passing from one to the next. And Madeline was right here.

  She hadn’t run screaming. Hell, she hadn’t even broken stride.

  She belongs here, he thought, his arm itching to wrap around her waist. She belongs here with me.

  As if he was reading Rebel’s mind, Albert nodded with a smile.

  After Irma got her some tea, Madeline gave the old man a thorough work-up—as thorough as she could in the kitchen, anyway. When she finished, her brow was wrinkled.

  “Well?”

  Her eyes settled on him, and she chewed on her lip. “Has he alwa
ys had that skip in his heartbeat?”

  His heart. Rebel should have guessed. “It’s off?”

  “It’s a little irregular,” she admitted. “But I don’t know if that’s normal for him or not. I didn’t bring his file... Otherwise, he seems okay. Definitely not the flu,” she added, shooting him a sharp look.

  He felt the blood fade away from his face. With an ache of certainty, he knew what had happened. Albert had had a heart attack last night. A small one, maybe. One that left him up and walking. But a heart attack all the same.

  He looked at his grandfather, who was telling another joke in Lakota that Tara would blush to know her daughter was hearing—and understanding. As he watched, Albert reached out and patted Nelly on the head, and then went back to his stories. He glanced up at Rebel and nodded again.

  His time was coming. And he knew it.

  That ache ran deep, and for a moment, Rebel felt not just nervous, but a full-on panic. Albert had made him what he was. Albert had saved him. He was a Lakota because that was what Albert had taught him. Without Albert...

  The panic burned away with a certain knowledge. Albert had made him what he was, and what he was now was a medicine man, here to shepherd souls on to the heavens. He would be okay. They all would, because that was what Albert had prepared them for.

  Albert looked at Madeline and his gaze darkened a little. He was worried about her, Rebel realized again. After all, she didn’t know much of a good Lakota death.

  The rest of the evening passed in a whirl of people laughing and eating good, clean food, telling jokes in Lakota and telling them again in English and laughing at both. Madeline seemed most comfortable in the kitchen, helping Nelly cull the strawberries, so Rebel went back out to the bonfire alone, like he had something to prove. Some people smoked, some people drank, but he turned a blind eye to the bad parts and focused on the good. And the best of the good parts was that no one gave him any shit. In fact, several people mentioned that Albert had been expecting them a little sooner.

  Maybe this wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever had, after all. In fact, it might turn out to be a perfectly okay one. Rebel came in from the fire to find Madeline in an earnest conversation with Tammy, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Mikey was hell-bent on tugging on each lovely curl.