His Medicine Woman

by Stella Bagwell

  Clenching his teeth, he entered the building and walked straight to a low counter where a blonde receptionist had a phone jammed to her ear. Behind him, he could feel the curious stares from a few of the waiting patients, but he didn’t bother to glance around and acknowledge any of them.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the woman ended the call and addressed him.

  “Do you have an appointment?” she asked. “If you don’t, I’ll have to check and see if Doctor Donovan can take any more walkins today. She’s been extremely busy.”

  “I’m not sick.”

  With a sly smile on her face, the blonde planted her elbows on the counter and leaned slightly toward him as though she found him incredibly interesting. But Johnny was hardly in the mood for flirtation of any kind.

  “If you’re not sick, then why are you here? I have the sneaky suspicion that you’re not a pharmaceutical salesman.”

  “Do I look like I sell anything?”

  Her hand flew over her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Not exactly.”

  “I’m here to speak with Bri—uh, Doctor Donovan,” he told her.

  “Does she know you’re coming?”

  “No,” he said curtly.

  Put off by his coolness, the receptionist became all business. “Oh. Well, I’m afraid she’s in with a patient at the moment. And you can see from the waiting room that she’s very busy.”

  “She’s busy every day,” he reasoned. “Go tell her that I want to speak with her.”

  A bit taken aback by his command, she straightened her shoulders. “And what is your name?”

  “Just tell her it’s a man from the reservation.”

  “But a man from the reservation was just here to speak with Doctor Donovan,” she pointed out. “She’ll—”

  “Tell her that this time her visitor is a real Apache,” he interrupted. “She’ll know.”

  “Wait here,” she told him. “I’ll be right back.”

  Bridget was standing outside an examining room, poring over a chart when Janna hurried up to her.

  “Sorry to interrupt again, Doctor, but someone is waiting up front to speak with you.”

  “Janna, there’s a whole waiting room full of people wanting to speak with me. Whoever it is will have to wait. I’ve already had too many interruptions today.”

  With that, Bridget started to enter the room, but Janna practically screeched, “Wait, Doctor! I can’t go back up there and tell him that. He’s—not the type of man who would take kindly to being put off.”

  Frowning, Bridget sighed with frustration. “Janna, you’re paid to handle things up front. I can’t—”

  “He said to tell you that this time it’s a real Apache to see you. And I can tell you, Doctor, he—well, he’s the kind of man that makes mothers worry about their daughters.”

  Bridget froze. “Johnny,” she murmured wondrously.

  “Who?”

  Galvanized now, Bridget nudged the receptionist toward the waiting room. “Show him to my office. Now!” she added, as she whirled and started down the hallway.

  Once inside the private space of her office, Bridget didn’t bother to sit down. With a rain of questions darting through her mind, she was far too keyed up to attempt to appear casual. So she simply stood waiting in front of her desk, her hands in a tight steeple, her heart pounding anxiously in her ears.

  Johnny had never set foot in this clinic. In fact, he’d never met with her in Ruidoso at any time for any reason! What could have brought him here?

  Finally, just as her nerves were on the verge of flying apart, Janna ushered Johnny into the room, then quietly shut the door, cocooning the two of them in the quiet space.

  As his purposeful strides carried him toward her, Bridget’s first urge was to rush to him and fling her arms around his neck. But the sight of his tight features held her off. Obviously, he hadn’t shown up today to make amends.

  Hoping her voice didn’t crack, she said, “This is quite a surprise, Johnny.”

  Even though her office was fairly large, his presence made it feel more like a tiny closet with hardly enough oxygen to keep a person conscious. To compound the problem, her lungs refused to draw in more than tiny sips of air at a time.

  “Is it?” he asked bluntly.

  Confused by his strange attitude, she stared at him. Johnny had never been the sort to show much emotion, even anger. The fact that she could read it so clearly on his face, told her that something drastic had occurred. But what? She’d not seen him since their day at the cabin.

  “You’ve never bothered to visit my clinic and see where I work.”

  “I’m not here for social reasons,” he growled.

  His sarcasm stiffened her resolve to meet him head-on and she stepped toward him, her nostrils flaring with disgust.

  “You’ve never done anything for social reasons.”

  Keeping a foot of space between them, he stopped in his tracks. “No. But I’m sure the good doctor from the reservation does.”

  Stunned by the jealous sarcasm in his voice, her eyes searched his face. “Why should anything about Natan Kenoi bother you? At least he’s not afraid to have an open relationship with a white woman.”

  Disbelief widened his eyes, as though her remark was the last thing he’d expected her to say and then without warning his hand snaked out to wrap a hold on her arm. Bridget wasn’t sure if he tugged her toward him or if the sudden snare of his grasp had caused her to teeter on her slender high heels. Either way, she stumbled and very nearly fell against his chest.

  Steadying her, he asked sharply, “Is that what Kenoi was doing here? Seeing you personally?”

  Lifting her chin to a challenging angle, she answered, “Not exactly. But he’s made it clear that he’d like for us to be more than friends.”

  His hand tightened on her arm. Or at least it seemed that way. The only thing Bridget could be certain of was that his fingers were burning her flesh and shooting electric shocks all the way up to her shoulder.

  “I’ll bet,” he muttered.

  Squaring her shoulders with resolve, she said, “You’ve told me more than once that you want me to find someone and move on with my life. Maybe I have.”

  Releasing his grip, he stepped back from her as though she’d suddenly morphed into a serpent. “If that’s true, then why are you trying to meddle in my life? Why did you put Brady up to calling me?”

  Totally stunned, Bridget’s head jerked back and forth. “Brady? What are you talking about? I’ve not seen my brother since Saturday morning and the only thing we discussed was the Breeder’s Cup race!”

  Cursing under his breath, he began to pace back and forth in front of her. “You arranged this. You had to. All this time—all these years—a job offer with the sheriff’s department didn’t just happen to open up.”

  Very confused now, Bridget caught him by the arm. “Are you trying to tell me that Brady called and offered you a job? That’s—wonderful!”

  A sneer spread his lips. “Actually, he said he was calling on Sheriff Hamilton’s behalf, but I seriously doubt that.”

  Furious now, Bridget yanked hard on his shirtsleeve. “Don’t you dare call Brady a liar! He loves you like a brother and that’s the way you repay him, by doubting him? You’re—disgusting, Johnny Chino!”

  He turned his back to her, but not before Bridget saw a look of shame wash over his face. Her words had cut, but she’d meant for them to. Sometimes a person had to hurt before he could open his eyes and truly see. She wondered if that time would ever come for Johnny.

  “Okay, I shouldn’t have said that,” he muttered. “Brady wouldn’t lie to me. But I—” With dark, wounded eyes, he looked over his shoulder at her. “I’m certain you had something to do with this. You think you know what I need! That you can manipulate my life and turn it into something you want. Well, it doesn’t work that way, Bridget! I am my own man!”

  Astounded, Bridget grabbed his shirtsleeve and yanked until he twisted back
around to face her. “Do you honestly believe Ethan Hamilton consults me over who he hires or fires in his department? Sure, Johnny! That’s as far-fetched as me conferring with him about a medical diagnosis! That’s how stupid your thinking is right now!”

  “You’re personally acquainted with Sheriff Hamilton and Brady has worked for him for years,” he argued.

  “That’s true. And when you helped on Lass’s case nearly two years ago, Brady told the whole family that Ethan wanted to hire you. He told you, too, didn’t he?”

  Johnny’s eyes fell guiltily to the floor. “Yes. But I turned down the offer.”

  “Why?”

  Before he could make any sort of reply, a faint knock sounded on the door. As Bridget went to answer, he said, “You’re busy and I need to get out of here anyway.”

  Reaching for the doorknob, she tossed over her shoulder, “No! Not yet! Just give me a moment to deal with this.”

  Opening the panel slightly, she saw Maura standing in the hallway. A frown of concern marred her sister’s face. “Bridget? Is something wrong? The patients are—”

  “Maura, please explain that I’ve had a slight emergency and I’ll see them shortly. And tell Janna not to schedule any more appointments for today.”

  For a moment Maura looked as though she wanted to step into the office and see for herself what was going on, but she must have thought better of it because she finally gave Bridget a reassuring smile.

  “All right, Brita. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

  “Thanks, sis,” Bridget said with a rush of relief.

  Shutting the door, she hurried back over to Johnny, who’d walked deeper into the room and was now standing in front of a large picture window that looked over a connecting atrium. Even before she approached him, she sensed from his stance that his anger had evaporated somewhat.

  Thankful for that much, she rested a hand against his back. “I apologize for the interruption,” she said quietly. “Today has been hectic.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice low and flat. “I—don’t want to talk about it now. In fact, I was wrong to even come here—to accuse you of fixing things with the sheriff on my behalf. It was probably Brady—thinking he was doing a friend a favor.”

  Oh, God, she prayed, why did this man not see himself as she saw him? A good, strong man, worthy and capable of achieving any goal he wanted in life, including being a husband to her?

  “You’re wrong in all that,” she told him. “But not wrong in coming here. It’s time we started letting our families see us together. Because that’s the way it’s going to be from now on.”

  He didn’t say anything, and encouraged by his silence, she ventured on. “Now tell me why you turned down the job offer two years ago? And don’t tell me that being a deputy wouldn’t suit you. Back when we were together you often talked about getting into law enforcement.”

  “That was a long time ago,” he murmured. “A lot has happened since then.”

  “Maybe you should tell me about it.”

  That stirred him away from the window and he looked at her with a mixture of defiance and regret. “Why? What difference does it make?”

  “Whether you cared or not, for the past five years I’ve devoted my heart to you. I think I deserve to know what’s pushing you to hide from life. From me.”

  “None of it is simple,” he said, his face a stony mask. “And this is not the place.”

  “According to you it’s never the time or place. Why did you quit tracking? Is that why you won’t accept the job with the sheriff?”

  His jaw twitched and then he closed his eyes. “I don’t want to take it—because I don’t deserve it. I’ve made—mistakes.”

  “We all make mistakes, Johnny. Some of us quite frequently. Including me.”

  He opened his eyes and shook his head. Bridget’s heart ached at the defeat she saw etched upon his features.

  “Little mess-ups maybe—but not the life or death kind,” he countered. “You save lives, Bridget. I—caused a young child to lose his.”

  Stunned, she stared up at him. “How? I’ve not heard such a story. Brady hasn’t said—”

  “Brady doesn’t know,” he interrupted. “No one around here knows—not even my grandparents. It happened about three years ago—after you and I parted. It was out in California and thankfully, only the local media reported the incident, so the story didn’t follow me back here.”

  “What happened?”

  A long breath rushed out of him as he swiped a hand over his face. “A family was vacationing, camping out in the wilderness as a treat for their two boys. It was in an area where the desert stretched for two or three miles before it reached the mountains. The younger boy, he was eight at the time, wandered away in the late evening and before his parents realized he was gone, darkness had enveloped the campgrounds. Law officials were called in and several searches of the immediate area were made, but Davey—that was his name—was nowhere to be found. After a couple of days, the parents called me—said they’d heard I’d had a high rate of success and they were begging for my help. I flew out with the dogs and began to search.”

  “But how? After that length of time weren’t all the traces of the boy’s movements gone?” Bridget asked.

  Johnny shook his head. “No. At first it was easy to pick up his trail from the point where he’d left the campgrounds. And I felt certain I would find him before—well, before the elements got him. But on the second day after I began the search, the Santa Ana winds began to blow. Every ounce of humidity evaporated from the air and the heat became dangerous. The winds picked up the sand and blew every track, every scent away. At that point the dogs were useless and I was working on blind instinct, trying to figure out where the boy had gone to seek shelter. I decided to direct my search toward the mountains, thinking he’d view the rocks and trees as a place to hide from the blistering sun. I was wrong. He’d made a huge circle, then turned back. I found him about a mile away from the campgrounds where he’d collapsed in a shallow ravine. Dead from heat exposure.”

  Heartsick, Bridget reached for his hand and clutched it tightly. “Without some sort of guide, you couldn’t predict what the boy was thinking or where he was trying to go.”

  “You’re right, I couldn’t foresee. Because I couldn’t think like that little boy. He saw his parents as his shelter, his safe place. I saw the mountains as my safe place, because they never changed or moved. They were always there to hide me from my troubles. If I’d searched nearby first, I would have found him in time.”

  Tears burned her throat as she tried to speak, “You didn’t cause that little boy’s death. It was a horrible accident. To blame yourself isn’t right.”

  “You want to hear something ironic?” he asked bitterly. “Davey had told his brother he was going out to search for arrowheads. He thought it would be neat to find where an Indian had hunted.”

  Aching for him, Bridget tried to reason, to make him understand that no one was infallible, even him. “He was a little boy with a head full of imagination. Clearly, even the parents couldn’t figure their son’s thinking. Otherwise, they would have found him.”

  Johnny remained silent and in his eyes she could see his tumbling thoughts, the doubts and fears that had haunted him for so long. Oh, God, if she could only make him toss them at her feet, she prayed.

  Reaching for both hands, she tightened her fingers around his. “I lose patients,” she said quietly. “Even after I try my very best to keep them alive. But when that happens I don’t blame myself. I like to believe that for each one that I lose, I save many, many more. Think about it, Johnny. Think about all the good you could do by working with Brady—the lives you would protect and save.”

  Rising up on her toes, she pressed a kiss against his cheek. “I’m glad you told me, my darling. Really, really glad.”

  He let out a mournful groan and then suddenly his lips were on hers, kissing her deeply, hungrily. For a few desp
erate moments Bridget clung to him and then he swiftly set her aside and headed out the door.

  With the back of her hand pressed to her throbbing lips, she was still staring after him, when Maura appeared in the doorway.

  “Brita, are you—”

  “I’m fine. I’m coming,” she interrupted as she hurried toward her sister. “Do you have all the charts ready?”

  Maura remained in the doorway as she closely studied Bridget’s face. “Everything’s in order. Are those tears I see in your eyes?” she asked suspiciously.

  Clearing her throat, Bridget shouldered past her sister. “Don’t ask me about them now, Maura. People are depending on me to take care of them. I don’t have time for tears.”

  Maura walked briskly alongside Bridget as the two women headed to the nearest examination room. “What was Johnny Chino doing here? Why would seeing him upset you like this?”

  Because I love him. And I have to find a way to make him see that I need him and he needs me.

  To Maura, she said, “I’ll explain later.”

  And this time, Bridget wasn’t going to hold back. Whether Johnny Chino wanted it or not, her family was soon going to learn about their love.

  Chapter Twelve

  Two days later, in the small atrium connected to Bridget’s office, the two sisters were taking a quick lunch break and Maura made use of the private moments to bring up the subject of Johnny Chino.

  Now that Maura had learned the whole story about Bridget’s secret love life, she wasn’t about to allow her little sister to sit back and lose her man.

  “Have you talked to Johnny today?” she asked as she peeled the wrapper from a chocolate bar.

  Avoiding Maura’s blunt question, Bridget said, “Every time I see you bite into one of those things, I get sick.”

  “Why? I thought you loved chocolate.”

  Rolling her eyes, Bridget picked up a carrot stick and munched halfheartedly. “I do. That’s why it makes me sick. I wish I could eat it like you do and never see an extra pound. It has to be your metabolism.”