His Medicine Woman

by Stella Bagwell

  “I haven’t waited,” he admitted. “I’ve only remembered. And wanted.”

  Lifting his face away from her neck, he gazed at her, and the love he saw in her eyes made him want to forget there was a world outside of the cabin, to believe that nothing else mattered but the two of them together.

  “Since we’ve been apart I’ve not made love with any other man,” she said in a voice choked with emotion.

  His throat was suddenly so tight he wasn’t sure he could make a sound. Finally, he murmured, “And I have not touched a woman.”

  “Oh, Johnny.”

  Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. He kissed them away before his lips finally traveled down to hers and then unbridled hunger suddenly took control.

  With their mouths fused together, he pulled her beneath him and she opened her legs to receive his thrust.

  Being inside of her whammed him with so many sensations that his head snapped back and the breath rushed from his lungs. For long moments he remained motionless, his body too paralyzed with exquisite pleasure to move.

  She finally broke the spell by arching upward and drawing him even deeper into her heated folds. The motion snapped the momentary grip on his senses and he began to move against her, to relish the sweetness of her body. Gradually, he realized her hands were everywhere on his body. Soothing, searching, teasing, and pushing the blood in his veins to a throbbing boil. And he could only wonder how he’d survived so long without this. Without her.

  Beneath him, she was more beautiful than anything his eyes had gazed upon. The smooth lovely curves of her body, the bright red hair cascading over her breasts and spilling onto the blanket created a perfect mosaic. Her green eyes were glittering with love and tender promises and he found he could not look away any more than he could stop the swelling of his heart.

  How could this rapture end? How could it not go on forever?

  The questions pricked at the back of his mind, causing the rhythmic thrusts of his body to quicken, as though the frantic pace would push the thought of giving her up again completely out of his mind. And all the while she matched his movements and begged him to give her more of him. More of his heart.

  When he felt the end nearing, he tried to hold it back, tried to stop the burst of relief that would ultimately separate their bodies. But it was too powerful and overwhelming to tamp down.

  All he could manage to do was snatch her face up to his, latch his lips over hers and swallow her cries of pleasure as he emptied his body, his heart, into her.

  Chapter Ten

  When Johnny finally rolled away from her, Bridget grabbed the end of the blanket and pulled it over their naked bodies. With her cheek cushioned against his shoulder, she closed her eyes and cherished the simple pleasure of being next to him.

  “What are you doing? We can’t go to sleep.”

  His comment tilted the corners of her lips into a lazy smile. “I’m not going to sleep.”

  “We should get up and get dressed.”

  “Only if you’re ready to walk down to the river with me.”

  He made a grunting noise. “You expect me to have that much energy left?”

  Her soft laugh was more like a provocative dare as she shifted toward him. “You have that much left and more.”

  With a soft growl, his hand slid against her belly, then glided up to one breast.

  “You always did overestimate me.”

  She touched her fingertips to his cheek. “I know what you’re made of, Johnny Chino. Maybe it’s time you proved me right.”

  He turned his face into her hand and placed a kiss upon the palm. Bridget wondered how such a simple touch of affection from this man had the power to turn her soft and mushy inside, to make her heart skitter to a stop, then thump hard enough to shake her chest.

  “I thought you wanted to walk to the river,” he reminded her.

  “I changed my mind. I’d rather we stay right here.”

  His head bent toward hers. “I can manage that,” he said against her lips.

  They stayed in the little bed until the fire in the fireplace burnt low on the hearth and a chill invaded the whole cabin. By then, the day was growing late and the woods gloomy with deep, dark shadows.

  When Johnny finally rose from the bed and dressed, Bridget was reluctant to move. She didn’t want to leave this place or the heavenly circle of his arms. But time ticked on. And now she could only wonder what, if anything, this day of making love had changed.

  He’d said he would always love her. He’d obviously shown her how much he still wanted her. Just thinking of the magical things he’d done to her body was enough to burn her cheeks. Yet he’d not hinted in any form or fashion that he was willing to plan a future with her.

  Oh, God, she couldn’t go back to living without him, she thought, as she pulled on her jeans and sweater. Not now. Not ever.

  Once she was fully dressed, she walked into the main room of the cabin and found him stirring the last of the ashes on the hearth.

  “A few live coals are left,” he told her, “But I think it will be safe to leave them.”

  “We’re leaving now?” Even before she’d asked the question, she’d already known they couldn’t dally much longer. More snow had fallen while they’d been here and the way back was long and time-consuming.

  Rising from his stooped position, he walked over to where she stood. “It’s getting late.”

  She sighed and for one moment she feared her eyes were going to fill with tears. And she didn’t want that. She didn’t want Johnny to think she was afraid to end the day and this time with him. She had to be strong and confident. Otherwise, she could never prove to him that they belonged together.

  “You’re right. We’d better be going.” She stepped around him and walked over to the table where she’d left her tote bag. Pulling a hairbrush from it, she began to tug it through the long mussed curls flying around her shoulders. “I have things I need to do at home and I’m sure you do, too.”

  Glancing around, she saw that he was standing with his hands in his jeans’ pockets, studying her with dark, thoughtful eyes. Trying to hold her nerves steady, Bridget tossed the brush into the tote and walked back to him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  His gaze connected with hers. “Nothing. I wanted to see you here like this. One last time.”

  Her heart paused, then leaped into an erratic beat that most any good doctor would consider a problem. But when she spoke, her shaky condition was masked by a voice filled with certainty. “The two of us will make this trip again, Johnny.”

  His head swung slowly from one side to the other. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

  Even though his words stabbed her, she didn’t flinch or waver as she rested her palms against his chest. “You see this day, our time here together, as a mistake?”

  The question apparently cut at him because he looked away from her and swallowed. “Yes. Because it will only make things worse when we have to part.”

  “But we aren’t going to part,” she countered. “I’m not letting that happen again, Johnny. Not this time.”

  Her announcement swung his gaze back to her, and from the look of surprise on his face, she could see he’d not been expecting her to stand up to him.

  “You can’t stop it. I don’t intend to see you again.”

  “And how do you propose to avoid seeing me? I have no intentions of neglecting my friendship with Naomi. Yes, she’s well enough now that she doesn’t need a doctor, but we have a bond, one that I intend to nurture and strengthen. She expects me to keep visiting her and this time I’m not going to let her down or let you interfere like you did five years ago.”

  Some emotion she couldn’t quite catch flittered across his face and then she watched his jaw harden, his eyes darken to black coals.

  “Then I’ll make damned sure I’m not around when you’re there.”

  Her nostrils flared, her lips quivered with anger. “How can you be such a b
astard, Johnny? How can you?”

  “Easy. I was born that way.”

  “That’s not true!”

  With a sound of disgust, he turned from her. “You want to pretend that I have a father. Well, that’s useless. Take off your rosy glasses, Bridget, and see me for what I am!”

  Grabbing him by the arm, she forced him to face her. “Don’t give me that poor, pitiful me act! Plenty of boys grow up without a father who acknowledges them. That hardly makes them worthless.”

  “It hardly makes them a candidate to marry a Donovan, either!”

  Blood was boiling at her temples, even while she was trying to tell herself that anger would solve nothing. She asked bluntly, “When you laid me down on that bed in there, Johnny, what were you thinking?”

  A look of self-disgust was on his face and she hated that even more than his senseless argument.

  He said, “I wasn’t. I couldn’t.”

  Bridget could certainly believe that. She’d not been thinking, either. The moment he’d taken her into his arms, she’d done nothing but feel.

  Sighing, she turned away from him and went to fetch her tote from the table. “We’d better be going,” she said in a clipped voice.

  She caught the faint sound of his footsteps and then his hands curled over the top of her shoulders. The unexpected touch went straight to her heart and she closed her eyes tightly as emotions threatened to overtake her.

  “Bridget—we’re not kids. When you asked me to bring you here—you knew what was going to happen.”

  “Maybe.”

  He grunted. “And you thought that if we went to bed together—again—that it would change everything. It hasn’t. I won’t let it. Because I don’t want to ruin your life.”

  Twisting around to face him, she said, “You justify everything by pretending you’re making a giant sacrifice for my happiness by pushing me away.” She shook her head. “You’re not making me happy like this, Johnny. And I’m not going to let you keep hiding behind flimsy excuses.”

  His features were suddenly tight and grim and his next words exploded with a burst of frustration. “All right! I’ll give you a real excuse! I don’t love you. And I sure as hell don’t want the headache of marrying you! All I’ve ever wanted from you, Bridget Donovan, is your hot little body. So grow up and get over it!”

  Refusing to let even a glimmer of tears mist her eyes, she lifted her chin and stared at him. “Like I said before, you’re getting good at lying. But not good enough to fool me.”

  Snatching up her tote bag, she stepped around him and walked out of the cabin.

  The next morning, Johnny was braking his truck to a stop on the dirt-packed parking area in front of the Brown Bear Cantina when his cell rang. It was the cougar hunters informing him that an unexpected emergency had come up with their jobs and neither man would be able to keep an appointment to meet him this morning.

  He wished they would have called earlier and saved him this trip into Mescalero. But as far as Johnny was concerned this change in plans was fine with him. In fact, on the drive down here this morning, he’d already decided to tell the men that the cougar hunt was off. If they’d wanted to go after deer, he’d go. But the big cats were no longer going to be tracked by Johnny Chino.

  Why he’d come to that sudden decision, he couldn’t quite say. Maybe because his grandmother hated the thought, or perhaps the memory of her slain cousin had unconsciously nagged at him over the years. Or it could be that he’d kept remembering the disappointment on Bridget’s face when she’d asked him why he would hunt and kill such a beautiful animal.

  Hellfire, it didn’t matter, he thought, as he slammed the truck door behind him and headed into the cantina. What Bridget thought of him didn’t matter one whit.

  Liar. Liar. Bridget was right. You’ve gotten good at lying, Johnny. Especially to yourself.

  As he straddled a seat at the bar, the nagging voice inside his head almost made him want to order a beer. But he’d never liked alcohol in any fashion. At an early age, he’d learned the stuff had killed his mother. Or had it been her behavior that had actually ended her life? Most folks around here, probably the Donovans most of all, would say it was the latter. But he tried not to think of that. It would only bring the problem with Bridget right to the front of his mind. And this morning he wanted to forget everything. Especially yesterday.

  Rosalinda was on waitress duty and she smiled when she spotted him. Without bothering to ask, she poured a cup of coffee into a thick white mug and carried it over to him.

  “Good morning, Johnny. You’re out early. Want some breakfast?”

  “No. I’ve already had mine. I was supposed to meet some hunters here this morning, but they canceled at the last minute.”

  “Oh. That’s too bad. But I’m sure you’ll get more work lined up soon.”

  He picked up the mug and let the steam from it warm his face. “I’m not worried about it.” After all, he didn’t need a job. He was too busy drifting, he thought dully. That’s what Bridget had called it.

  Leaning against the bar, Rosalinda folded her arms against her breasts and cast him a thoughtful smile. “That’s good,” she told him. “I like a man that doesn’t worry. I mean, what good does it do, besides put wrinkles on your face and ulcers in your stomach? Worrying doesn’t fix anything. Right?”

  “I don’t know of anything it’s fixed,” he said.

  Behind him the bell on the door jingled. Rosalinda quickly grabbed a pair of menus from beneath the counter. “Excuse me, Johnny. Duty calls.”

  With the young waitress gone, he focused on his coffee, until a man walked up and took a seat on the bar stool next to him.

  “Hello, Johnny. How’s it going this morning?”

  Glancing over, Johnny recognized the man who acted as fire chief over the local rural fire department. He’d lived on the reservation all of his life and though his name was actually Eduardo, everyone called him Eddie. He had a wife, four rowdy boys and a junky little place on the edge of town. Johnny had never much liked the guy, but he tolerated him because he, at least, made an effort to serve the community.

  “It’s going,” Johnny said.

  Angling the stool toward Johnny, the man grinned. “From what I hear we need to start calling you hero.”

  At that moment Rosalinda happened to walk up and place a mug of coffee in front of Eddie and managed to catch the last bit of the man’s remark. “Did I hear something said about a hero?” she asked as she glanced curiously back and forth between the two men.

  Johnny stiffened. “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

  Eddie chuckled. “Aw, c’mon, Johnny, there ain’t no sense in you acting humble about it. From what I heard that woman and her baby would have probably died if you hadn’t come along.”

  It suddenly dawned on him that Eddie was talking about the Apache girl who’d given birth in Johnny’s truck yesterday morning. Dear God, how long ago that seemed now, he thought.

  “A woman? What happened?” Rosalinda pressed to hear the rest of the story. “I haven’t heard anything!”

  Johnny shrugged one shoulder. “A young woman was in labor—stranded in the snow on the side of the road. I just happened to come by and help.”

  The waitress’s eyes widened with disbelief. “You mean you delivered a baby? Johnny, that’s incredible!”

  Johnny was about to set the record straight and inform Rosalinda that a doctor, not he, was the one who delivered the baby, but at that moment another customer called to her from across the room and she had to leave her position behind the bar.

  Once she was gone, Eddie leaned his head closer to Johnny’s. “I won’t tell her that Doctor Donovan was with you,” he said with a conspiring wink. “That might cramp things, eh?”

  Johnny shot him a sober look. “I don’t care what you tell Rosalinda. I’m not interested in her in that way.”

  For a moment Eddie appeared taken aback by Johnny’s remark, then after a moment, he thought
fully removed his baseball cap and wiped a hand over an unruly mop of brown hair. “Oh, so that means you’re interested in the Donovan woman in that way. I wondered why you two were together.” Slapping the cap back on, he shook his head. “Damn Johnny, you’re living dangerously, ain’t you?”

  Johnny started to get up and leave, but something held him to his seat. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Well, I heard—naw—it was nothin’. I’d better not say.”

  “I think you’d better say,” Johnny ordered under his breath, “Or you’re going to wish you’d never opened your mouth.”

  Eddie swallowed hard. “I always did talk too much,” he muttered. “But I heard some old-timers talking once about—well, about your mother.”

  Johnny’s eyes squinted to dangerous squints. “Go on.”

  Eddie glanced desperately around him as though he was looking for an escape route. “I—maybe we better forget this, Johnny.”

  Ignoring the plea in Eddie’s voice, Johnny pulled a bill from his wallet and tossed it down on the counter for the coffee. Then rising from the stool, he snatched a grip on Eddie’s arm.

  “C’mon, we’re going outside,” he said for Eddie’s ears only.

  Once they were outside, shielded by the side of the building and a blue spruce, Johnny released his hold on the man’s arm, then stood back, arms folded against his chest as he waited for Eddie to spill his gossip.

  Seeing he had no choice in the matter, Eddie swiped a hand over his broad face and began to speak in a halting voice.

  “Okay—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything about you and the Donovan woman. It’s none of my business.”

  “You got that right.”

  The other man jammed his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground. Johnny almost felt sorry for him. But just almost.

  “I’m just trying to save you some trouble later on. That’s all.”

  “Since when did spreading tales about other people help anybody?”

  This jerked Eddie’s head up and from the defiant look on his face, he appeared to have suddenly gathered some courage from somewhere. “Well, it could this time! You might—well, it’d be pretty damn awful if you found out later on that the Donovan woman was your half sister!”