Witch Dance (21 page)

“Perhaps.” She let her own smile match his. Demure. Not triumphant. Not secretive.

“What are your immediate plans?”

“I thought I’d do a little traveling.”

“Good. It’s a great time of year to see the sights.”

She knew Witch Dance had some beautiful sights. Clayton had talked about them enough so that she could picture them without ever setting foot on Tribal Lands. But it wasn’t the sights she was going to see.

Back in her bare room she opened her purse and took out the cards. Then she spread them on the bed and counted them. Eight. One every Christmas and one every year on the anniversary of Clayton’s death.

Although she knew them by heart, Melissa read them all again. Then she put them back in her purse and closed the snap.

Did that redheaded bitch think eight cards made up for stealing Clayton?

 o0o

Kate and Mark worked tirelessly every day, searching medical records, questioning parents, and following false leads. And at night they fell into separate beds, exhausted. Finally the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

All paths led to Witch Creek.

They left early Saturday morning, on horses. The creek was swollen with recent rains, its muddy waters overflowing the banks in some spots.

“Holy shit!” Mark said as two large carp landed at his feet, their bloated bodies ready to explode. He knelt quickly, studying the fish then gazed out over the creek. Rusty cans and broken sticks floated by . . . and other dead fish. “Pay dirt, Kate. Look at that.”

Across the way the Witch Dance Tool and Die Plant spewed plumes of smoke into the air, running full tilt. The eight o’clock whistle rent the silence, and a large group of blue-shirted workers poured out the front door, while another large group went inside, changing shifts.

Quickly Mark and Kate gathered samples of the water.

“What do you bet we find carbon tet?” he said.

Kate had a sudden vision of children playing in the water, laughing in the sunshine while the deadly solvent, carbon tetrachloride, was absorbed through their skin. It made perfect sense. And yet to find a factory guilty of pollution of that nature, either intentional or otherwise, would be politically and economically explosive.

“We can’t know that yet.”

“Until we do, this place had damned well better be off limits to everybody in Witch Dance. Who can do that, Kate?”

One man. Eagle Mingo.

“Monday I’ll go and see the governor,” she said.

 o0o

Eagle watched for her out the window like a jealous lover. Kate’s car stopped at the curb and Mark Grant helped her out. They stood close, too close for mere colleagues.

Anna had told him all about Mark, describing the young doctor in excruciating detail, right down to his boyish grin, never knowing that every word she uttered lacerated Eagle’s soul.

Witch Dance was a small village where everybody’s business was up for discussion, particularly the business of the governor’s former lover. Eagle was ashamed of the way he had stationed himself beside the village gossips the past week, listening for the latest word on Kate. He became a regular at places he usually shunned, Graden’s Pool Hall, Jimmy Running Bear’s Bar.

“The medicine woman’s found herself some new medicine,” a man at the bar had said Saturday night. “A doctor with a great bedside manner.” He slapped his hand on his knee, tickled at his own pathetic humor.

Depraved maniac that he was, Eagle picked up his beer and casually changed stools so he’d be closer.

“So I heard,” the woman with him said. “My brother was coming off the night shift at the plant and saw them down at Witch Creek together. Kissing.”

“Kissing? You don’t say?”

“Well, he could have been mistaken, but he said it sure looked like it to him.” She slugged back her drink. “He’s staying right there in her house. I don’t even have brains, and I’ve got that figured out.”

“You got brains, honey, but they’re not in your head.”

“Where are they, Joe?”

“In the right place, Pearl.”

The memory of that conversation still plagued Eagle. He’d released her five years before. What right did he have to know what she was doing now? Or to care?

“Dr. Malone is here,” his secretary said over the intercom.

“Send her in.” Eagle didn’t have to freeze his face into a careful mask: It had been frozen for years. So had his heart.

“Hello, Kate.”

“Eagle.”

There was a brightness to her smile and a quickness to her step that hadn’t been there before. Was Mark Grant responsible? Were the sleazy gossips right?

“As you know, I’ve been investigating the death of my patients.”

He didn’t pretend ignorance. He made it his business to know everything that went on in Tribal Lands. Kate, of all people, knew that about him.

“Yes.” So far, so good. He sounded interested, yet cool and removed. As befitted a governor.

“Dr. Mark Grant is helping me.”

How? Is he cooling your hot skin with his tongue? Do you fly with him as you did with me?

Waka
ahina uno, iskunosi Wictonaye. Waka.

Her voice flowed over him like warm honey as she told him of their discoveries at Witch Creek . . . and their suspicions.

“The area needs to be quarantined,” she said.

“Even before the investigation is complete?”

“Yes. I’m not willing to take chances with the lives of children. Are you?”

The minute she asked the question, Kate was ashamed of herself. For the first time since she’d walked into the office, Eagle dropped his careful mask.

“Do you think I’ll let more children die if I can prevent it?” Suddenly the thunderous rage went out of him, and he became businesslike once more. “If Witch Creek is polluted, as you and your colleague suspect, then the rest of the investigation will be the responsibility of this office.”

“But—”

“I know you, Kate. I’ve seen you charge into battle with a mop.”

Memories threatened to be her undoing.

Be generous, Kate, he said as she tangled herself around him like a morning glory vine.

She stood up. While she still could.

“I’m interested only in the medical aspect of this investigation, not the political. I’ll do my job and you can do yours. Without me and my formidable mop.”

Eagle watched until she was out the door, then he went back to the window and watched her walk all the way down to the street. She smiled when she saw Mark, smiled when he put his hands all over her, helping her into the car.

Eagle gripped the edge of the windowsill. It wasn’t Kate’s mop that was formidable. She was a powder keg and he was the match. Or was it the other way around?

Where would they go in Kate’s red car? Back to her cottage to make love on her white sheets while the setting sun gilded her skin and turned her hair to flame?

Sitting at his desk, Eagle suddenly felt drained of all energy. Overwork was partially responsible. There was more to do in his second term as governor than in his first. More industries were discovering the advantages of locating on Tribal Lands. Some of the legislators wanted owners of gambling casinos to be allowed building permits. There was an ongoing battle between environmentalists and the manufacturers.

He went back to the window to see if he could catch a glimpse of Kate’s car. She was long since out of sight.

Foolish at his age to be watching out the window for a woman he couldn’t have.

He was not getting any younger. Perhaps his father was right. It was time for him to be looking for a wife.

“I’m getting old,” Winston had said. “I’d like to live to see your issue, Eagle.”

His issue. They would have to be full-blood, of course. Mentally he ran down his list of full-blood women. Most of them were already married, and the others were far too young. Only one woman came to mind. She was lovely, intelligent, and single. A perfect candidate to bear his
issue
.

Everything in Eagle recoiled at the idea. Visions of his future came to him, a future empty of love and devoid of children. A brilliant image of Kate flashed into his mind, Kate, with the wind and the sun in her hair, galloping across the prairie on Mahli.

He’d sacrificed his love for the good of the Chickasaw Nation. Surely he could sacrifice his pride for the sake of family.

With his jaw set in steely determination, he picked up the phone and dialed. Never let it be said that Eagle Mingo had destroyed the sacred lineage.

“Hello?” The female voice at the other end of the line was full of life and spirit.

“This is Eagle Mingo,” he said, committing himself to a course of action that would forever rip asunder the fragile ties that still bound him to Kate Malone.

Chapter 24

Deborah hated keeping secrets. More than that, she hated feeling like a traitor. Actually, she hadn’t betrayed anybody, not yet anyhow; but she was certainly tempted. Oh, how she was tempted.

“Deborah . . .” Kate came up behind her, and she nearly dropped the chart she was working on. “You’re as jumpy as a cat today. Is anything wrong?”

“No.” Now she was a liar too. “Just the excitement of sending all our patients home.”

“Not all of them, Deborah.”

The pain in Kate’s voice nearly broke her heart. She put an arm around her best friend’s shoulders.

“Three survived. Just remember that.”

“I’m trying.”

“While you’re at it, think how many lives you’ve saved by finding out about the carbon tet in Witch Creek.”

“It’s not over yet. And anyhow, I didn’t do it alone. Mark helped.”

“Are you going to the benefit dance for the Chickasaw Cultural Center with him?”

“How did you know he’d asked?”

“I have eyes and ears, Kate, and they rarely ever fail me, especially when I’ve been eavesdropping.” Kate laughed. “You should go. It’s time to move on beyond . . .”

“Eagle?”

“Yes.” Deborah felt her face flame. Was she trying to help her best friend, or was her advice self-serving? She turned quickly toward the coffeepot.

“What’s the matter with you, Deborah?”

“Nothing’s the matter with me.”

“Oh, yeah? Since when have you started turning your back instead of looking me straight in the eye and telling me exactly what I should do? I no longer fall apart at the mention of Eagle Mingo’s name.”

The cup slipped from Deborah’s hand, sending hot coffee and glass shards across the floor. She and Kate reached for paper towels at the same time. Deborah stepped back, redfaced.

Sudden comprehension dawned on Kate.

“
You’re
the one who is upset. What’s going on?”

“I didn’t mean to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“Eagle asked me to the dance. . . . But, Kate, I said no. I would never betray my best friend.”

Had the earth stopped spinning? Kate wondered. Was that why she felt off balance?

“Why on earth did you say no? He’s single; you’re single. He’s full-blood; you’re full-blood. It’s a perfect match.”

“I can’t do that to you, Kate.”

“It’s over between us. It’s
been
over.”

“You wouldn’t be upset if I said yes?”

“Of course not.” Not upset. Crazed was more like it. Kate was crazy with rage and jealousy and pain. Maybe she needed a psychiatrist.

Or a good stiff belt of whiskey. That’s the way Mick Malone faced all his problems. Maybe she was her father’s daughter after all.

“Call him back and accept.” She was saying that with a smile? Was Deborah fooled?

“I will . . . if you’re sure . . . oh, my gosh, Eagle Mingo. He has to be the catch of the century.” She gave Kate a quick, sympathetic look. “Not that I can catch him.”

Kate forced a laugh.

“Of course you can catch him. You’re a beautiful, desirable woman. Any man would have to be a fool not to want you. And believe me, Eagle Mingo is no fool.”

Waka
ahina uno, iskunosi Wictonaye. Waka.

By all the saints, she was going to make a fool of herself in front of Deborah.

“Look,” Kate said. “I’m going to take off early. You’ll have the clinic all to yourself. Don’t wait till you get home. Call him from here.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m absolutely, positively certain.”

 o0o

Of course she was certain. That’s why she was on her third glass of whiskey. Hell, why stop with the third glass? Why not take the whole bottle?

With the bottle clutched in her hand, Kate attempted to rise from her chair. The kitchen wavered, then tilted. She caught the edge of the table.

“Whoopsy-daisy.” Hanging on to both table and bottle, she waited for the room to stop spinning. Finally, it did, but the furniture wouldn’t stand still. She held on to it anyhow, crossing the kitchen inch by inch, and then navigating the treacherous den. The damned furniture kept coming up to meet her.

Her shins would be black and blue tomorrow. If there was a tomorrow.

Collapsed in an ignoble heap on the sofa, Kate contemplated the level of liquor in the bottle. There was still plenty to provide total oblivion.

She tipped the bottle up and felt the sting as the whiskey hit her throat. The front door banged open with such a racket that Kate nearly fell off the couch.

“Whoops!” With parts of her on the floor and parts of her on the couch, she giggled. “Damned treasherous furnishure.”

“Holy cow.” Mark stared at her, dumbstruck and, then he began to laugh. “You’re totally smashed.”

“Nope. Didn’t shmash a thing.” She waved the bottle at him. “Wan’ a drink?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He helped her up and propped her on the sofa, then sat down beside her. “What’s the occasion?”

“Shelebrashun.”

“You heard already?” He took a swig. “Eagle’s going to nail those bastards to the wall if he finds out they deliberately dumped carbon tet into Witch Creek.”

“Too busy danshing.”

“Who is?”

“The governor.”

“I see.” He saw far more than she was telling. Everybody in Tribal Lands knew that Kate Malone had once been the governor’s woman. Mark set the bottle aside and gently pulled Kate to her feet. “No sense in letting anybody get ahead of us. May I have this dance, Dr. Kate Malone?”