Witch Dance (11 page)

A romantic at heart, Deborah thought it only fitting that the son of the governor should marry the most beautiful woman in Witch Dance and the daughter of a U. S. senator besides. A mating of royalty. Suddenly she had a brilliant idea how she could accomplish that goal and repay Kate for her kindness and friendship at the same time.

“I have much experience with many boyfriends and from reading novels where the nurse always gets the doctor. I’ll teach you how to make him fall under your spell.”

“Thanks, Deborah, but I think I’ll pass.” Kate lifted her heavy hair off her neck. “My, it’s hot in here.”

Riveted, Deborah leaned forward and touched Kate’s skin just below the earlobe. Her finger came away red and blue.

“That looks like war paint.”

Kate flushed scarlet. Her mother had always warned her to wash behind her ears. In her hasty bath, she’d missed the telltale evidence of her night of passion with Eagle.

She was saved by a commotion at the front of the store. Eagle Mingo was galloping by on his black stallion, and the rush toward the windows emptied the aisles of the store.

He sat tall and proud in the saddle with the wind in his hair and the sun on his face.

Bewitched
,
bewitched
, her mind whispered. But it wasn’t she who had bewitched Eagle; it was he who had bewitched her.

Kate leaned against the counter, weak with wanting, and as the sound of hoofbeats died away, she knew with absolute certainty that she couldn’t return the horse and end the affair; that, in fact, she would take the first opportunity to mount the horse and fly through the darkness to Eagle.

Now and always.

 o0o

Clayton heard her leave.

He lay in his bed, listening to her soft footsteps in the hall. The back door creaked on its hinges, and then the sound of hoofbeats filled the night.

Kate. Riding to meet her lover. Flying to him on the wind as she had every night for the past two weeks.

The nights were torture for Clayton, and the days even worse. Flashes of them came to him in short bursts of color and agony. Eagle on the clinic rooftop putting on shingles and Kate gazing up at him as if he were the sun. Eagle, his bare chest shining with sweat, bending while Kate poured water over his head. Eagle and Kate. Kate and Eagle. The secret smiles. The secret touches.

As if he couldn’t see. As if he didn’t know.

Rage filled him. He panted as he raced down the hall to her bedroom. Her nightshirt lay across the bed, where she’d tossed it in her haste. His lips curled back against his teeth as he snatched the shirt up. It made a small snapping sound as he stretched it tight. One more tug and it would rip apart.

Clayton closed his eyes, imagining the satisfaction of tearing her nightshirt to shreds. The smell of Kate filled his nostrils—the lotion she used to keep her hands soft, the shampoo that made her hair smell like flowers, the exotic musky scent that clung to her skin.

He fell to his knees and bent double with Kate’s nightshirt pressed over his face, moaning like a sick animal.

Exhausted, he lay on the floor. From somewhere in the distance came the sounds of the night—an owl calling someone’s name, a lone wolf howling at the moon, the soft slapping sound of flesh against flesh. Kate and Eagle tangled together in sweaty lovemaking.

Uncertain of what was real and what was imaginary, Clayton finally lifted himself up. Kate would never know,
must
never know.

 o0o

“You’re leaving?” Kate couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You can’t leave. The clinic’s not finished, these people don’t trust me, and—” She’d suddenly run out of reasons, all of them selfish. “I’ll never make it without you. Never.”

Clayton pushed aside his bowl of cereal, the decision he’d made the previous night firm in his mind. He longed to offer a shoulder to cry on, to touch her, but he dared not.

“You’ll be fine, Kate. You and Eagle will have that clinic finished soon. Once the people see what a wonderful doctor you are, they’ll flock to you. You’ll have to hire a guard at the door to keep order.”

“Thank you for those sweet lies.”

She came to him and put her arms around him. He felt the shock of her touch all the way down to his toes. Thank God her hips weren’t touching his, or she’d know exactly why he had to leave. He hoped she didn’t feel him trembling.

“I’ve been selfish to the core,” she said, walking away. “Of course I’ll be all right. It’s not as if everybody in this town mistrusts me. I have Deborah . . . and Eagle.”

“Yes. You have friends.” Did his rage show? His jealousy? His lust?

“I never even asked why you’re going. There’s nothing wrong, I hope.”

“No. A small family matter. Melissa is giving a benefit dance for AIDS, and she needs my support.” How easily the lie came to him. Melissa could plan and execute the liberation of a small besieged country without his help.

“Will you be back?”

“Of course. This is
our
clinic, Kate. Yours and mine. I’ll help get it on its feet and running before I return to my practice in Boston.”

“I wish you would decide to relocate . . . you and Melissa. We’d make a great team, Doc.”

Yes
, he thought. A great team. Working side by side. Sharing the day-to-day triumphs as well as the tragedies in a field they both loved.

And at night, sharing the same bed, sleeping between her thighs with the scent of her filling his nostrils.

He looked at her smiling face. Clearly, she respected him and enjoyed his company. Was there hope for him, after all?

“I’ll be back, Kate.” He patted her cheek, so soft, so fragrant. Surely he was due that much.

She covered his hand. “Thanks, Doc. You’re like a father to me.”

He kept his tears inside. Tomorrow on the plane back to Boston would be soon enough to cry.

Chapter 10

Signs of approaching fall appeared in Witch Dance. A herd of antelope began their migration, and the fur of foxes, rabbits, and coyotes thickened. At night, when the stars hung low, winds blowing down from the Arbuckle Mountains brought chills and a promise of snow.

The two people sat huddled in front of the cabin with the moon a pale sliver in the cold sky and the shadow of the mountain hiding their faces. Hal and the Great One. Planning for the future of Witch Dance.

“Tonight,” the Great One said.

“I’m ready.”

“You know what to do?”

Hal nodded. He’d gone over the plans in his head a dozen times. Nothing could go wrong, for he had the power of the wolf and the power of the peyote stirring his blood.

“You’ve done well. Because of you, Witch Dance will soon be free of this tainted influence.” The Great One put a hand on Hal’s shoulder and he felt ten feet tall. “Go quickly now.”

“Do you want me to report back to you?”

“No. I’ll know when the deed is done.”

The Great One sat in the doorway of the hut until Hal disappeared into the night. Then he built a small fire and sacrificed the fattest and finest portion from a loin of venison he’d kept inside. The fire flickered over his face as he danced slowly around it, calling upon the spirits to send down great things to his people and success for Hal’s mission. His chants echoed off the walls of the mountains.

And from the distance there came an answer, the call of the screech owl. The man froze in mid-step. Shivers tingled along his spine.

The warning of the screech owl. Witches were about.

He snuffed his fire and went inside his hut. Then he pulled off his moccasins and left them upside down in the doorway to ward off the witches.

 o0o

Eagle covered Kate with the blanket. She slept soundly under the stars, with one hand pressed under her cheek and one knee slightly bent. The delicate skin at the base of her throat and across the tops of her breasts was still flushed where he’d kissed her.

Softly he touched her hair, careful not to wake her. Even that small contact made him want her—the soft, shiny feel of her hair.

With the bright tendrils clinging to his fingers and the bright memory of their bodies joined making his blood sing, Eagle felt the cold winds blowing off the mountains, the cold winds of good-bye.

“You have bewitched me, Kate,” he whispered as softly he kissed her hair and pulled the blanket close around her shoulders.

Kate didn’t stir, even when he mounted his stallion and raced off into the darkness. Her sleep was peaceful and deep.

“You’ve made the dreams go away, Eagle,” she’d told him.

Had it been only two weeks ago? It seemed like a lifetime, as if he and Kate had been together forever, would
be
together forever.

“What dreams?”

“The ones that have haunted me for years.”

“Do you want to tell me about them?”

And she had. Leaning against his chest, she’d told him of her brothers, of the small sailboat they’d taken into the waters, of the sudden storm and of her desperate search for them in the unyielding sea.

“I killed them.”

“No. You had nothing to do with it, Kate. They were weighed on the path and made to be light.”

“I can’t excuse my negligence by saying it was an act of fate.”

“The days appointed them were finished. There was nothing you could do to change that.”

Her sleep had been peaceful after that, as it was now.

A hawk disturbed by his passing rose toward the night sky, and branches stirred by the wind off the mountains whispered secrets as he galloped toward the clinic. Summer was almost over, and the knowledge was heavy upon his heart.

Eagle drew his horse to a halt atop the hillside. The moon lay upon the clinic like a blessing. There was a sudden calm, as if even the wind dared not disturb his deep contemplation.

For weeks now there had been no hostile moves toward Kate and her work. She was euphoric, thinking the opposition dead, but Eagle knew better. Whoever was behind the hostilities was waiting his moment to strike.

Eagle watched with perfect stillness, watched and absorbed the grandeur of the land around him. There was too much beauty to mar a single moment of it with impatience.

From the opposite hillside came movement, a slight figure racing through the darkness as only a Chickasaw could, light and fleet and soundless. The runner stopped in front of the door of the clinic, where the moon shone brightest. In his hand was an ancient sacred musical instrument, and as he plucked the strings, he began to dance.

Chills raced along Eagle’s spine and prickled the back of his neck, for he knew the ceremony. It was the
Keetla
Ishto Hoollo
, a dance before the holy one designed to drive away witches.

Suddenly Eagle knew the enemy, knew his power and his motives, knew him without seeing him. Certainly it was not the slender boy dancing in the moonlight. He was hardly more than a child, and not capable of owning such an instrument, let alone understanding the significance of the dance.

No, the enemy was not the youth; the enemy was far more deadly. The enemy believed Kate to be a witch, and he would do everything in his power to stop her.

With the discordant sounds of the instrument and the muffled beat of moccasins ringing in his ears, Eagle descended toward the clinic. The young man was so lost in his task that he never heard Eagle’s approach.

“I know you. You are the son of Lightfoot.”

The boy dropped his instrument. “What the devil?”

“No, not the devil. But close.”

Eagle dismounted and caught him around the back of the neck so swiftly that the boy had no time to run. A box of matches fell from his pocket.

Eagle ground it under his foot.

“You won’t be needing those.”

“Let go of me, you bastard.” Hal had absolutely no hope of freeing himself, but he tried anyhow. He twisted and jerked, knowing that the iron grip of Eagle Mingo would hold him fast.

“You will take me to the one who commanded you to do this.”

“It was all my idea.”

“You speak with the
sente
soolish
.”

“And you speak like a savage.”

“The
sente
soolish
—the snake’s tongue.”

The boy spat in the dirt at Eagle’s feet. “That’s what I think of your damned crazy talk and your damned white witch woman.”

Hal refused to cringe before the murderous rage in Eagle’s eyes. Eagle lifted him onto the stallion as if he were a child. The arm holding him was as hard as a band of steel. There was no possibility of escape.

“Tell me where he is,” Eagle commanded. Hal remained stubbornly silent. The band of steel tightened around his chest. “Tell me.”

“In a cabin . . . east, at the foot of the Arbuckle Mountains.”

As they thundered off into the darkness, Hal wished he could die. He’d rather be shot down like his mother than to face the disappointment and wrath of the Great One.

 o0o

“I’ve been expecting you.” The Great One stood outside his hut dressed in full regalia. Streaks of dark umber and bright vermilion decorated his face, and pouches of various sizes hung on leather thongs around his neck. In his right hand he carried a gourd rattle, and in his left, the tailfeather of an eagle. Tools of his trade. “When the screech owl called, I knew my mission would fail.”

The medicine man’s face was old and lined with many wrinkles, but his body was erect, and he held himself proudly.

“I should have known it would be you.” Eagle dismounted, taking the boy with him.

“Let the boy go home,” the old shaman said.

“I don’t want to go,” Hal stuck out his chin. He could still feel the power of the peyote working in his blood.

The Great One turned a stern face to him. “Go home. I am the one he seeks. Without me you are nothing.”

As soon as Eagle’s grip loosened, Hal raced toward home, the rebuke stinging in his ears. Someday he’d show them. He’d show them all.

The medicine man turned toward his visitor. He could feel the supremacy of his opponent. It was a strong magic enhanced by noble visions and unselfish commitment. He was proud his opponent was worthy.