The Doctor's Medicine Woman (3 page)

“One such chief,” she continued, “was called
Half Moon. He got his name from the pale, crescent-shaped scar he had here.” She reached up and gingerly touched her face high on the left cheekbone. “When he was a small child, he wandered into a pen of wild horses. His mother watched helplessly as the animals stampeded. They reared and bolted and bucked. They thrashed and finally broke the fence. Half Moon could have been killed.
Should
have been killed. But instead he walked from the pen all on his own. He’d been kicked in the face, the horse’s hoof leaving a curved gash on his cheek. The whole tribe knew that Half Moon had survived what any normal child would not have. The People knew that Half Moon would be a great man when he grew. He would be smart. And brave. And he would lead The People toward wonderful things.”

Her words were like magic, drawing them deeper and deeper into the moment. Her eyes danced with emotion, her tone rose and then softened for the greatest impact. It was clearly evident that she’d told this tale many times. That she herself reveled in the history of her tribe. And that in this verbal tradition—whether the story was myth or reality—she was celebrating her proud heritage.

Travis tore his eyes from her beaming face and looked at the boys. They, too, were held entranced by the enchantment she conjured. This connection to the past
was
a good thing for Jared and Josh. Of that he couldn’t be more sure than he was at this moment, seeing the fascination in their eyes.

“And Half Moon did grow to be a great man,” Diana said. “He was all the things The People knew he would be. He was a great chief. Wiser than many
others. Half Moon was the man who made the Big Negotiation. He knew the Europeans were in our land to stay. He knew they would soon outnumber The People. So he made it possible for us to have a place. A home. He gathered his tribe and moved them to what is now known as Vermont. The Kolheek, People Of The Smoke
—your people—
survive today because Half Moon knew when to talk peace rather than engage in war.”

Pride seemed to emanate from her. Her spine was straight, her slender shoulders square. There was no conceit or arrogance in the way her chin tipped upward; however, there was a good measure of old-fashioned self-respect. And Travis couldn’t help but admit that he found it alluring.
Highly alluring.

Movement at the periphery of his vision had him darting a glance down the length of her body. Gravity tugged at the hem of her robe, parting the bottom facings to reveal a slice of her bronze-hued thigh. The sight of her finely honed muscle caused heat to curl in the bottom of his belly, his abdomen tensing with a sharp but pleasant pain. The sudden discomfort was a shock and the urge to suck in a lungful of air was overwhelming, but he successfully restrained it.

As inconspicuously as possible, he pressed his balled-up fist to his diaphragm, hoping to quell the constriction. Never before had he reacted to a woman in such a…a
physical
manner.

Women are trouble,
a shadowy voice in his head warned.

Averting his gaze to the far corner of the room, he clenched his jaw. He didn’t need any dark warnings.
He knew all about women. Knew the kind of wounds love inflicted. Had seen it in his parent’s marriage. His brother’s. Hell, he’d even experienced the pain firsthand back in college.

He wasn’t interested in becoming trapped in any woman’s web, no matter how beguiling it might seem.

He was just going to have to snuff out these feelings of attraction he felt for Diana. He could do it. Anytime
—every time—
he felt something even remotely resembling desire, he’d simply squash it. Like an irritating gnat.

Simple plans were the easiest to accomplish. And this plan couldn’t be more simple. He could do it. She wasn’t going to be here for long.

Apparently she’d finished her story. She was standing now, smiling at Jared and Josh. Then Diana turned that gorgeous smile on Travis, and it was as if he’d been struck between the eyes with a ball peen hammer.

“I’m going to say good-night,” she told him.

Her voice flowed over him—through him—like the mellifluous notes of some haunting melody. Again, his gut tightened.

This is crazy,
he told himself.
Damned crazy!

“I’ll leave you to tuck in the boys.”

And then she was gone.

You can fight this. You’re stronger than these idiotic feelings. Ignore this ridiculous attraction. Just ignore it.

But even as the thoughts marched drill-like through his brain, he unwittingly turned his head to inhale the faint, citrusy scent she’d left behind.

At last the house was quiet. Diana had brewed a pot of her own herb tea and was sitting in the all-season sunroom, looking out at the darkness, listening to the muffled quiet of the silent, wintry night. Pale moonlight cast a beautiful mélange of deep shadow and pearly glow among the thicket of pine and bare hardwood trees.

When she’d left Travis and his boys, Jared and Josh were both sleepy-eyed and ready for the sandman to take them on whatever dream adventure was in store for them this night. They were great kids, full of energy and imagination. They had delighted in the story she’d told of Half Moon, that much had been clear to Diana. But then, they were bright, inquisitive children. She knew she was going to enjoy spending time with them, aquainting them with their Kolheek heritage.

Travis had paid close attention to her story, too, Diana silently mused, lifting the mug to her lips and taking a small swallow of tea. Well, she hoped it was the legend that had held him so enthralled. His onyx eyes had latched onto her, making her feel as if he were staring into the very depths of her soul, and she’d had a hard time concentrating on the storytelling. She’d wanted to reach up and smooth her hair, fidget with the sash of her robe, but she’d forced her hands to remain in her lap. She hadn’t liked feeling like a silly, squirming schoolgirl. Thank heaven she’d been able to quell the nervousness Travis’s intent gaze had provoked in her. Soon, the training she’d received in the nearly lost art of storytelling had kicked in and she’d become engrossed in the past herself.

Still, when she thought about how his gaze had been riveted to her face, his attention focused on her every word…The memory caused shivers to careen down her spine like an icy mist, and she curled her hands around the heated ceramic mug to ward off the imagined chill. She tucked her bare feet under her on the padded seat of the wicker chair.

His interest had been in nothing more than the story, she firmly told herself. She refused to think anything else. He’d been captivated by Half Moon’s experience. Anyone would be fascinated by the history of such a great chief’s life.

But Travis’s gaze was so dark, so…She couldn’t quite put a name to what she saw in his eyes. Like secret windows. Seemingly filled with something deep and profound. Something mysterious. Haunting her. Calling to her.

Huffing out a frustrated sigh, she looked toward the ceiling. Why was she so intent on conjuring fantasies around this man? Her thoughts had seemed to have a mind of their own ever since she’d first laid eyes on Travis.

Head shaking slowly, she tried to clear her mind. She simply refused to allow her imagination to get the better of her.

But the thoughts persisted, refusing to be banished. What was it about him that provoked these sensuous notions running through her head? She’d had no trouble whatsoever deflecting the approaches made by other men since her divorce. She’d easily turned down all offers of dates, and she’d done so politely and tactfully so as not to hurt a single living soul. Yet here she was fancying that Travis Westcott—a
man she barely knew—was staring at her…desiring her.

Desiring
her? Is that where her thoughts were heading?

No. No. No. She couldn’t have that. She wouldn’t allow herself to be undermined by her own ridiculous imaginings. Travis had become caught up in her story. That was all—

“I’m glad to see you’ve made yourself at home.”

She looked toward the French door that led into the house. His frame was backlit by the soft light being thrown from the kitchen. He looked strong. Safe. Protective.

Shaking her head slightly, she shoved the impressions from her, but not before she realized this wasn’t the first time she’d been plagued by these same out-of-the-blue reflections. Ridding herself of the fanciful thoughts shouldn’t be very difficult. Especially when she knew that
no
man would ever make her feel safe and protected.

“I’m in the habit of drinking some chamomile tea before bed,” she told him, relieved that her voice sounded much less quivery than she felt inside. “So I made myself a pot.”

His dark head bobbed slightly. “I hope you don’t mind. I helped myself.” He lifted the mug he held in his right hand. “May I join you?”

“Please.”

This politeness, this formality, made her feel too awkward for words.

“Look, Travis, I’m awfully sorry that I’ve been foisted on you like this. I know you see me as an intruder in your home. Especially when, I’m sure, all
you’re thinking about is getting to know the boys, letting them get to know you and becoming a family so you can enjoy the Christmas holiday together.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just sipped his tea, peering at her over the rim of the mug. Finally one of his shoulders lifted a fraction. “This is what’s best for the boys.”

She couldn’t tell whether or not he believed what he said, but she was fascinated with those eyes of his. Even in the dim light of the porch, his gaze gleamed with some unnameable force, a humming energy she found mesmerizing.

The apology had been meant to somehow lessen the tenseness in the air. But all their small exchange seemed to accomplish was to make the oxygen denser, harder to breathe. She wanted to say something, to somehow break this awful silence, but it was as if the ability to speak had suddenly been lost to her.

“So—”

Not ready for the sound of his satiny voice, Diana actually started.

“—was it true? The story you told the boys?”

Nodding, she answered, “Yes, the events I relayed to the boys really happened. Generations ago. Of course, I didn’t go into too much detail. Jared and Josh are young. The simple version of the story is good enough for the time being.”

“The simple version?” he asked. “There’s more?”

“Oh, yes. Much more.” She shifted in the seat. “Half Moon didn’t come to the decision to negotiate
with the Europeans easily. The Kolheek are proud and stubborn people. He fought first.”

“As well he should,” Travis said. “The land he lived on belonged to him.”

Diana slowly shook her head in modest dissent. “No one can really own the earth. But the right to hunt and live on the land was ours.” She paused. “Well,” she lightly amended with a tiny smile, “Half Moon believed the right belonged to The People.”

Travis nodded, a new understanding—or was that interest?—lighting his eyes.

“Many men from the tribe, young and old, lost their lives in battle,” she said, “before Half Moon decided to bargain with the Europeans. The wars went on for years. They were bloody. And relentless. It was an awful time in our history.”

He sat with his feet planted apart, both hands grasping the mug of tea, his elbows resting on his knees. He was utterly silent, his gaze focused.
And he was staring directly at her mouth.

Anxiety churned in her stomach at the realization. Was he hearing a word she said? It seemed as if he were in some sort of trance.

Ever so slowly, his tongue roved across his bottom lip. The action appeared utterly subliminal. As if he wasn’t even aware of what he was doing. She didn’t sense he was trying to flirt with her, but she did recognize that her worst fears were true. When she’d thought he might be feeling something for her, it hadn’t just been her imagination. He
was
attracted to her. She was sure of that now.

Panic sent her thoughts into total commotion. She
should tell him this instant that she wasn’t interested in any kind of association with him other than the purpose for her being here. Jared and Josh.

Just be honest with the man.
Her grandmother’s wise words echoed through her mind.

Diana opened her mouth to speak, but then the most extraordinary thing happened. Travis sat up straight. He looked out the window into the cold, snow-coated night. His chest rose and fell with a heaving, seemingly steeling breath. And when he directed his gaze at her again, there was not a single nuance of fascination or temptation or intimate interest expressed in his eyes. It was as if he’d extinguished his feelings like they were a candle flame that could easily be snuffed between a moistened index finger and thumb.

She felt her strained back muscles relax. Okay, so she now knew the truth. He
did
desire her. It wasn’t her imagination. But it was also obvious that he intended to suppress his feelings, just as she meant to stifle hers.

The reason behind his decision didn’t matter to her. She wasn’t interested in what motivated him to mask his emotions. She was only glad he intended to control himself.

As long as they both contained the attraction they felt, everything would be just fine.

“Y
ou brought home
who?
”

“She’s a
what?
”

Travis suppressed a frustrated sigh as his medical partners and best friends, Greg and Sloan, asked their questions in unison. He’d known the men would be surprised by his news. But he hadn’t expected this degree of astonishment.

“Look, guys,” he said. “I can’t go into too much detail. I have a patient due in at any moment.”

“Oh, no.” Sloan shook his head, catching Travis by the sleeve. “You aren’t going anywhere until you explain.”

His shoulders slumped in surrender as Travis turned back around. “I brought home a Medicine Woman from the reservation.”

Greg snickered. Travis tossed him a narrow-eyed glare conveying a silent warning.

“So,” Sloan said, “we did hear you correctly the first time.”

Travis nodded.

Sloan’s brow furrowed and he shook his head. “Why?”

“Well, the boys will be due for their…” The words caught in Travis’s throat. He had no idea how his friends would react to what he was about to say.

In all the years he’d known Greg and Sloan, Travis’s Native American heritage had never really been discussed. The opportunity for an earnest conversation about that fact had never arisen. Of course, they knew he was half-Kolheek; however, it had never been a subject that the three of them had ever delved into too deeply.

He’d become interested in his ancestry when he’d applied for college. The particular incident that had sparked his curiosity didn’t make him very proud, but the important thing was that he’d finally become inquisitive about his Kolheek past.

For some reason, though, he’d more or less kept his interest to himself. Most peoples’ family trees had roots in England, Ireland, China, Italy, or one or more of the dozens of other countries in the world. Just because the limbs and roots of his own family tree—half of it, at least—were buried deep in the soil of North America was no reason to go making a big deal of himself.

But he’d begun to read about his native tribe. Learned the Kolheek reservation was located in Vermont. He’d even made the effort to become a bona fide member of the Kolheek Nation by registering himself with the tribe. His mother hadn’t been happy
about his interest in his heritage. In fact, she’d been so upset by his actions that she’d disowned him altogether. It troubled him to think that she could feel such embarrassment by the same birthright he’d become so proud of. It also saddened him to know she wanted nothing to do with him because of his determination to explore his ancestry. However, it was really no great loss since his mother had always been more concerned with herself than she’d been with anyone else. So he hadn’t let her opinions stop him. Once he began receiving the tribe’s newsletter, he’d learned about Jared and Josh, orphans who needed heart surgery. Since then, his whole life had changed.

Still he hesitated in telling his friends the truth about Diana Chapman’s presence in his home. He didn’t like feeling anxious about being judged by his friends.

Looking down at the patient file he held in his hand, he ran his finger down along the stiff edge of the manila folder. Greg and Sloan had never judged him before. Why should they now?

“The boys are due for a naming ceremony about now,” he told them, tipping up his chin to look them in the eye. “And because I know nothing of the heritage we share, I really can’t prepare them the way Diana can. So she’s going to teach them about the Kolheek culture. And then, when the boys are ready, she’ll perform the ceremony. Give them their Indian names.”

As he spoke, he noticed that the smirk that had been smeared across Greg’s mouth slowly dissolved and then disappeared altogether. Both Greg and
Sloan sat up straighter, conveying clear and obvious interest in his explanation.

“Wow,” Greg said, his voice soft. “That’s great, Travis.”

Sloan’s head bobbed slowly, his eyes glittering with fascination. “The boys will get the chance to learn their heritage. I think that will be wonderful for them. Everyone needs to feel proud of who they are.”

Relief washed over Travis. How could he ever have doubted these men? They were his best friends. The ones who stuck by him through thick and thin.

“It’ll be perfect for the boys,” Sloan continued. “And…for you.”

Travis wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Well, you are curious, aren’t you?” Sloan asked. “About your heritage, I mean.”

Shrugging, Travis had to admit, “Sure I am. I have been for years.”

“We figured as much,” Greg chimed in. “We know you’re a compassionate person. We also figured you’d have helped the boys out with their medical problems no matter what their race. But it meant something to you. The fact that they’re Native American…almost makes them…” He lifted one shoulder a fraction, then let it fall. “Family.”

Becoming a father had changed Travis. He wasn’t normally an emotional basket case. But as he looked from Sloan to Greg, his heart seemed to swell in his chest. It grew all achy. And unexpected moisture welled in his eyes, burning the backs of his lids.

He felt so lucky to have met these extraordinary men while the three of them had attended medical
school together. And after discovering that, for one reason or another, they all lacked a close-knit family unit so essential to surviving the stresses of med school, they had decided to become—for each other—the support they didn’t have. The three of them might not be blood brothers, but they were as close as three people could be. They laughed together. They cried together. They propped one another up when the chips were down.

Yes, Travis felt lucky, indeed.

His buddies had understood exactly how he felt, and he hadn’t had to say a single word to explain his actions over the months that had turned into years since those sick little boys had first entered his life.

He sighed. “You guys…” Words lumped in his throat. He tried again, feeling the desperate need to let them know how he felt about them. About their friendship. “You guys…”

Sloan stopped him with an upraised palm. Greg’s mouth quirked at the corners.

“Now don’t go gettin’ all mushy on us,” Sloan said sternly.

“Yeah,” Greg agreed, pushing his chair back, averting his gaze as he put unnecessary focus on rising to a stand. “Before we know it,” he complained, his voice gruff, “we’ll all be crying like a bunch of big babies. We can’t have that. All of us have patients to see.”

Travis just stood there looking at them.

So. Words weren’t needed. Still, he was glad they knew how he felt.

Friends. There was nothing else like them in the whole wide world.

Shaking his head, Travis offered them a small smile, and then he went off to do his job.

The tingle of awareness Diana felt over every inch of her skin alerted her that Travis had entered the kitchen. Before meeting him, she’d never before experienced this prickly sensation. It was silly, she knew. She’d been a married woman not all that long ago. She knew all she wanted to know about men, women and their relationships. But still, every time she was near Travis, she became engulfed by this delicious giddiness that had her wanting to grin like a senseless child. However, simpering like an idiot didn’t fit in with the professional image she was trying to project to him—so she strangled the urge with imaginary hands.

“Hi,” he greeted.

The sonorous timbre of his voice made her flush with heat. She nodded a hello and then reached up to smooth her fingertips over her lips and chin. The action might have looked inconsequential, but it helped her to keep her smile in check. It wouldn’t do for him to discover just how happy it made her merely to see him.

“How did it go at the school?” she asked.

After work, Travis had gone to register the boys for kindergarten at the local public school.

“Pretty good.” He set his attaché case on the table beside her notepad and began to unbutton his overcoat. “I met the boys’ teacher. Her name is Mrs. Brown. She seems nice.”

“Good. What did she have to say about the…situation?”

He pulled off his coat and tossed it over the back of the nearest kitchen chair. “She made a great suggestion.”

Interest had Diana’s eyebrows raising, her silence encouraging him to elaborate.

“Mrs. Brown thought, with all the new things the boys are already trying to become accustomed to, me, their new home, you, and learning something about their culture…well, she felt that the boys should just take a couple of weeks at home. School will break for the Christmas holidays soon. And Mrs. Brown felt it would be good to have the boys start school when all the other kids come back at the beginning of the new year.”

Diana nodded. “So they can take this new life of theirs in stages.” She pulled her hand from her face, her smile broadening. “Sounds like Mrs. Brown is a smart woman.”

He chuckled. “I think so, too. I don’t mind having a little extra time with the boys. I’ve already worked on getting my schedule lightened up so I can spend more time with them.”

Glancing toward the doorway, he frowned. Then his dark eyes once again found hers.

“They seem skittish,” he said. “Like they think I’m going to take them back to the orphanage, or something.”

“That’s pretty normal, I would think,” Diana said, wanting to assuage the worry that clouded his gaze. “They’ve voiced some fears to me. Nothing that a little time and trust won’t cure.” Then she assured him, “I let them know they can trust you as often as I can.”

That prickly sense skated across every inch of her skin when she saw gratitude soften his features.

“Thank you. Very much.”

His tone was like warm honey, golden and sensuously sweet, and Diana had to fight the urge to close her eyes and get lost in it.

“Oh, I nearly forgot.” He reached for his briefcase, opened it and extracted several sheets of paper. “Mrs. Brown wants to know if the boys know their numbers and letters—”

“Sure thing.” Diana reached for the papers. But when he didn’t release them, she lifted a questioning gaze to his.

Awkwardness coated his face like a sheen of perspiration.

“I wasn’t giving out orders,” he told her gently. “I didn’t mean that this was something you should do.”

“Oh.” Automatically she tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. She let her fingers slide from the sheets, her hand dropping to the tabletop. “It sure wasn’t my intention to step on your toes. I only meant to offer to help…”

Clearly they were both discomfited by the moment. The air turned stiff. Thick. And she got the distinct sense that this awkwardness had nothing whatsoever to do with the papers he’d brought home from the school.

Finally he said, “Look, we need to relax. Every time we’re around each other we seem to get all…bent out of shape.”

Relax. The suggestion was a good one, but for some reason Diana couldn’t see it happening.

Awareness scampered over her nerve endings whenever he was anywhere near her. She might be able to suppress her reaction to Travis—and she was sure determined to hide what she felt—but to really and truly relax? That just wasn’t going to happen.

Travis cast another glance toward the living room where Jared and Josh were sitting in front of the television. “They’re busy watching that Robin Hood video, so I think I’ll start some dinner.”

“Let me finish my notes,” she told him, “and then I’ll give you a hand.”

He went to the pantry and pulled open the door. “What are you writing? Something about the boys?” He pulled out several potatoes and an onion and carried them to the counter.

“Yes. Actually I am.” She picked up the pen that lay on the tabletop. “They fascinate me.” She knew her eyes glittered with her memories of the day spent with Josh and Jared. But she couldn’t help it. Not having spent much time with children in the past, she hadn’t really been sure what to expect. She’d enjoyed herself, and she’d discovered that she liked the boys. Very much. “They’re twins. They look so much alike. But they’re as different as night and day.”

Travis stood at the counter peeling the vegetables. He smiled. “They are, aren’t they?”

“We bundled up this morning,” she continued, “and took a long walk out back in the woods. I asked them to point out as many living things as they could. Jared ran and jumped and rolled.” Diana chuckled as she remembered the child’s antics. “But Josh mostly stayed by my side. Quiet. Contemplative.”

“There’s a good reason for that, I think.” He put down the paring knife, turned to face her, leaning his hip against the edge of the counter. “The boys developed heart defects very early. Josh was much sicker than Jared. He ended up needing several operations. The poor kid wasn’t allowed out of bed for months while he was recuperating. He’s much less physically active than his brother.”

Curiosity got the better of her. Curling her fingers around the pen, she tucked her fist under her chin and quietly said, “I heard that you were the one who made the operations possible. Tell me…what moved you to help them?”

One of his muscular shoulders lifted in a small shrug, as if he wanted to cast aside the importance of what he’d done. He returned to the task of peeling the potatoes.

“I don’t know,” he said. But he was quick to continue. “I was still working my residency. I’d just received confirmation of my membership into the tribe. And that very week the first tribal newsletter showed up in my mailbox.” His hands paused and he glanced toward the ceiling as if contemplating some deep, philosophical notion. When he looked at her, his coal-black eyes were intense.

“Do you believe in fate?” he asked. Then he chuckled. “Maybe I’m just being silly.” Again, he shrugged. “But I couldn’t get those boys and their problem out of my mind. The article I read said the state and the reservation were feuding over who should pay for the twins’ medical needs. I had to step forward and do what I could. I had to. Time was running out for those boys.”

“So you contacted the hospital?” Diana said.

“Uh-huh. And I harassed and badgered my fellow residents, the teaching doctors, and anyone else who would listen until a heart surgeon stepped forward.” Travis laughed. “I think Doctor Harris agreed to operate on the boys simply to shut me up. He did all the necessary procedures—and they turned out to be substantial—at no cost to the state or the reservation. He’s a good man.”