Stone Dreaming Woman (13 page)

“Why did you hide the fact that you’re a physician? That would have gone a long way toward changing the bad first opinion I also formed of you.”

She sighed. “That’s a long story. My father is Chief of Neurosurgery at Northtown Surgical Clinic in New York. You’ve probably never heard of it, but believe me, there’s not a physician on this continent who hasn’t. Northtown is one of the foremost research clinics in the country. I hope to practice there someday. It’s been my only goal in life since I was ten years old. The only problem is Father. He has been blocking the Board’s approval of my application. You see, he’s a strict, old-fashioned, unbending man. He tolerated my earning a Bachelor of Science degree, but then he wanted me to come home, marry the man he’d chosen for me, and become the proper New York society matron. Needless to say, I refused, and what’s more, I entered medical school against his express orders. We haven’t spoken save in passing for five years. And after all that work I still couldn’t find either a hospital that would hire me as a staff physician or a practice to buy into. I asked Uncle Richard to keep my secret because I didn’t want everyone here looking at me like I’m some sort of sideshow freak.”

“Sideshow freak?” he echoed. “No, I don’t agree with that at all. People here can’t afford to hold prejudices. There are simply no choices to be had. There are doctors aplenty in big cities, but out here? Well, see for yourself. Angus is the only doctor between here and the Quebec border. Granted, there are a couple doctors in River Bend, but west of town the only other one I know of is clear up at the north end of my territory in Castlereigh, and I suspect he’s running from some sort of trouble. I leave him alone because he’s needed so badly. People out here die for lack of simple medical care. Just two months back a teenage boy severed an artery in his leg with an axe. Angus was out on a call somewhere and nobody knew what to do. I tried to help him, but…but I was too late. Last summer a farmer named Charles Gunther died of blood poisoning from a broken arm. We regularly lose women in childbirth, too, and I know that doesn’t have to happen. There’s a place for you here, probably a very big one. Please give it careful consideration. At least talk to Angus and see what he has to say. You’re truly needed, and if I may make a purely personal observation, you’re the strong, levelheaded type who does well on a frontier.”

“Thank you for your confidence. You argue your case effectively, barrister that you are. I really hadn’t considered staying here, but it’s a pleasant place so far. And as far as talking to Doctor MacBride goes, I have to. I’m out of surgical dressings. I’ll have to beg some supplies and also find out where he orders his.”

“I’ll take you there in the morning and introduce you, then.” She looked out over the landscape, brilliant in the slanting moonlight. It was so quiet that all she could hear was the creak of tack and the susurration of the horses moving through the dry snow.

The moon was just dropping below the horizon when they arrived at Richard’s little ranch. Shane turned down the lane with her.

“Mavis said she would leave food for us. Please come in with me? I know you had to have missed supper,” Jenny said as they approached the house.

“Mrs. Hammill will feed me. She doesn’t mind, as long as I don’t make a practice of it.”

“Please? It’s so cold out. I know you could stand to warm up. And even though you might not welcome the reminder, right now it won’t do to let yourself get chilled.”

“All right. Just for a while, though. It’s getting late, and it’ll be an early morning for both of us.” With something that amounted to telepathy, Toby came out to take the horses. It surprised her. Usually by this time he was sound asleep. Shane took the medical bag, and they came into the assembly room, still redolent of supper. She divested herself of four layers of clothing, then went to the stove and peeked into a pot that had been left on the back to stay warm.

“Ham and beans. And the other one is corn bread. How perfect for such a cold night!” She put two more sections of split alder into the firebox and pulled the pan over it, then placed the teakettle right behind it. “This won’t take fifteen minutes, I promise.” She measured tea into the warmed ironstone teapot, and he gave in and set the table while she tended the stove. Very soon the beans were hot. She put the corn bread on a plate and brought the whole to the table. Then she ladled beans into his bowl and hers and poured tea for them both. He rose and bowed his head while she said the blessing, and then they both sat down.

“Do you remember what that Indian woman called me today? Stone Dreaming Woman? You said you’d explain it on the way down, and we both forgot,” she began after they had assuaged their initial hunger pangs. His hands paused on the corn bread he was buttering.

“You’re right. It slipped my mind entirely. Well, when a boy like Jimmy is fourteen or fifteen, he undergoes a manhood ceremony. It consists of certain ritual preparations, and then he goes into the woods and fasts and prays until he has a vision. It is interpreted by the shamans and elders, and it determines the course of his future. At that time he is given a man name and a ceremonial name. Boys who dream about weapons and game are warriors and hunters. Future shamans dream of birds and flying and are often called Dream Flyers. Chiefs and leaders have visions of bears, but those whose visions are of mountains and hills—things made of rock—are called Stone Dreamers. They become healing shamans. However, women don’t undergo the vision quest. Except under unusual circumstances they do not have ceremonial names. It was an honor for Madame LaPorte to give you one. She is a tribal elder, so she speaks for everyone. And when she asked if you were married and your mother was alive? When you said no, that severed your connection to your people. You see, their families are matrilineal. And since you are single and obviously have no children, you are without any tribal ties. In effect, you are eligible for adoption. So, in giving you a ceremonial name, she made you Iroquois. Now you may be adopted into a family if you choose.”

“Interesting. But you speak their language so well, and aboriginal languages are always very complex. They’re difficult to learn unless you do it as a child.” He could have ignored the unspoken question, but he decided to sidestep it instead.

“As I said, my grandparents raised me after my family died in a smallpox epidemic. Since he was an old-fashioned voyageur, we lived way out in the woods. All my playmates were Iroquois children. I even went to Father André’s mission school until I was eleven, when I had gone as far as the mission school could take me and I transferred to the school in town. I had to live with Mavis and Ira Conner during school term then. Mavis civilized me. Ask her, and she’ll probably tell you it’s the hardest thing she ever did.”

“You’re fortunate. It’d be hard to work with those people as closely as you do without speaking their language well. I wished this afternoon I could communicate with them a little better.”

“As you saw with Madame LaPorte, most of them have enough French to get by. But if you ever decide to learn Iroquois, I’ll teach you.”

“You’re certainly working on me to stay here, aren’t you?”

“How did you ever guess?” There was a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

“As I said earlier, I was born at night, but it wasn’t last night.” She buttered a morsel of corn bread and felt it literally dissolving in her mouth. Mavis’s corn bread was another of her miracles.

“All jesting aside, you are a very shrewd and open-minded person. Knowing what I do about your background, I was wondering if you’d object to coming to the Indian village with me. After all, it’s a far cry from—what was it? North…what?”

“Northtown Surgical Clinic. Sergeant, my oath precludes racial prejudice. Indians have the same blood as everyone else, and need is no respecter of skin color. Also, I grew up in a remarkably frank household, and I’ve escaped a good many of the current biases. My mother passed away when I was ten, and although I was basically raised by two aunts, they confined themselves to teaching me things like etiquette and embroidery, and they left the issues of moral guidance to Father. Since he is a physician, he was very frank with my questions. Even though we’re not close now, he was attentive to me when I was younger.”

“You’re fortunate.”

The mantel clock softly chiming eleven interrupted their conversation.

“Goodness! I hadn’t realized it was so late. Please, stay here tonight. If you don’t, you face that long ride into town only to have to get up early and come all the way back here and ride to town again. And I can tell you’re tired.” He drew breath to demur, but she interrupted him. “Don’t you dare say no. You still need your rest. And if you do insist on leaving, I won’t hear of your coming for me tomorrow. I’m perfectly capable of finding my way to Elk Gap unescorted.”

“I didn’t realize the railroad tracks ran through Richard’s house. But they must. I’ve just been flattened by a freight train!”

She giggled and filled his bowl again, giving him a full blast of Southern debutante cane-syrup charm. “Good. You’re staying. I’m so glad.”

“I can’t do much else.”

They finished their food, and he helped her clear the table. She discovered they made as good a team doing something as mundane as picking up dishes as they did saving a life. She rinsed the bean pot and the bowls, then put all the dishes in the pot and covered them with water. Then she dried her hands on the flour sack towel and anointed them with her favorite Honey Almond Cream.

“There. That’s good enough. We’ll do them with the breakfast dishes in the morning,” she said. He had moved behind her to return the butter to the cooler, and when she turned she bumped into him.

“Sergeant! Excuse me!” A toucher, she laid her palms above the breast pockets of his tunic by way of apology. Impulsively he covered her hands with his.

“Miss Weston, I can’t thank you enough for what you did today, for being kind enough to come to North Village with me, and for saving Jimmy’s life. He’d have been in dire trouble without you, Miss Weston…” He paused awkwardly, stumbling over her name. “No, I… Doctor Weston? I’m not certain how I should address you now. After today, ‘Miss Weston’ sounds so frivolous…”

“ ‘Jenny’ will do quite nicely, Sergeant.”

His gaze leveled on her, and he gave her a deeply searching look that was all grey eyes and hugely long lashes. “I have a first name too, you know,” he said softly.

“Touché. Shane.” She smiled and felt her cheeks flush. “Then have a good night.”

“You too.” Her hands lay trapped against his Red Serge. She turned them beneath his and held them palm to palm for a moment.

“Until tomorrow, then…Shane,” she said, her composure disturbed by his nearness.

“I look forward to it.” Then he reluctantly let her hands go, drawing a deep, nervous breath.

“Jenny? May I call on you, then? With Richard’s permission, of course.”

“It would be my honor entirely.”

His hands went slowly to the points of her shoulders, and he drew her to him. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back. All her senses were full of him, from his warmth to the masculine scent of soap, sunshine, and the wool of his Red Serge. She let her hands travel to his muscular shoulders, and as he gathered her into his arms, her left hand slipped over the standing collar of his tunic to the slightly long hair at the nape of his neck. It felt soft, satiny, and much finer than her own. Then his lips met hers, gently and tenderly, the stimulating touch of warm velvet. As she flowed up against him, the night turned to fireworks.

The kiss was exactly what she would have expected from Shane: undemanding, powerful, and thoroughly exciting. Then he held her close and pressed his cheek against her hair and she let her arms encircle his back. He was a big armful for her. His lips traveled across her cheek and he nuzzled into her hair.

“Oh, Jenny,” he whispered, sending a shiver from her heels to the top of her head. Then they kissed again. This time his red-clad arms engulfed her and she was lost in the incredible power that was Shane Adair. She went weak all over and plastered herself against his chest. She wanted to blurt out that she loved him madly, but that was a frightening idea. She laid her hand against his cheek and backed up a few inches. His face held high color and he was breathing hard through flushed, slightly parted lips.

“Do I owe you an apology now?” he whispered. Her arms tightened about him. Then she raised her head just enough to look up into his eyes.

“No. That was just as much my idea as yours. Don’t apologize to me unless it was just a one-time impulse and you intend never to repeat yourself.”

He proved to her that he was up to her one-line stingers. “Chèrie, I’ll kiss you goodnight every night for the next eighty years if you’ll have it,” he said softly.

“In eighty years I’ll be a hundred and five! Who in their right mind would want to kiss a hundred-and-five-year-old woman?” The grey eyes tilted again.

“A totally smitten one-hundred-eight-year-old man,” he whispered, holding her hands against his chest. She laughed softly.

“I swear, one of your ancestors had to have kissed the Blarney Stone!”

“Just wait eighty years and you’ll know that I’ve never meant anything more.”

“I’ll check again tomorrow, thank you.”

“Tomorrow, gladly.” He raised her hands to his lips.

“Then good night, Shane.”

“Good night, Jenny.” He leaned down and bestowed a chaste peck on her forehead.

“Sleep well.”

“I don’t think I’ll sleep at all, after this,” he sighed.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” She backed away from him, letting her hands run softly through his. Then she was gone, leaving behind an aura of Honey Almond Cream.

When she came up the stairs, she saw a thin slice of light under her uncle’s closed door.

“Uncle Richard?” she called softly, rapping one knuckle against the center panel.

“Come in, Jen.” His voice was quiet too, lest they wake Mavis. Jenny let herself in. Richard was at his desk, two books open and papers spread around him.