The Medicine Man

by Dianne Drake

  “I have a nice salad for you today, DocJo,” Phyllis announced proudly. “From my garden. Nice fresh greens.”

  Promising, Joanna thought.

  “And enough for him, too.”

  “This is Dr Chayton Ducheneaux,” Joanna said.

  “Chay?” Phyllis’s eyes lit up. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  Chay took the hamper from Phyllis. “And how’s Jack? We were friends when we were kids…did a lot of fishing together. And we roomed together up at the community college at Fort Peck.” He chuckled. “Got ourselves into trouble a few times. Can’t wait to catch up with him, see if he can still put back the beer like he used to.”

  Joanna sucked in a deep breath and held it. Chay couldn’t have known. “He died last month, Chay,” she said, sparing Phyllis the grief of talking about it. It was still so fresh, so painful to talk about, even for Joanna. God only knew how it was for Phyllis. “Kidney failure.”

  “I…I didn’t…” Chay stopped, swallowed hard, drew in a deep, steadying breath. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice so quiet and somber Joanna had to strain to hear him. “He was a good man. Smart. A good friend. I’m…I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you, Chay,” Phyllis managed, fighting back her tears. “And yes, he could still put back the beer like he did when he was in college.” A single tear finally slid down her left cheek. “We miss him, but DocJo did everything she could to help.” She smiled at Joanna. “I have to get back to the little ones. But I’ll be back for my appointment later on.” In leaving she didn’t scurry, as she had in coming. Instead, she trudged away slowly, her shoulders slumped, her steps labored. She looked like the grief-stricken woman she was.

  “What the hell happened to him?” Chay hissed. “Kidney failure? He was my age, for God’s sake.”

  “Diabetes. Brittle. I couldn’t keep ahead of it.” Her words sounded a bit dispassionate, she knew, but they weren’t. In her six months on Hawk she’d lost six people to diabetes. One death for each of her months there. And there was nothing dispassionate about every bad test result she saw, every complication she tried to treat, every new diagnosis she made, every patient she lost. Nothing dispassionate at all. “Phyllis is diabetic, too. So’s her oldest daughter. The results of their latest A1C tests are horrible.” A1C referred to a test to determine an average blood-sugar level for the previous two to three months. It was used as a diagnostic tool to keep track of a diabetic’s overall condition. “Norm is six or below from someone who isn’t diabetic, seven for someone who is and who’s responding to treatment. Collette is at eight right now. Way, way too high for a child, and she needs treatment. Phyllis is at ten, which means she’s in danger. And she’s bringing us a basket full of cookies.”

  Chay whistled. “And I’m assuming they don’t take any kind of medication.”

  “Most of the people around here won’t take insulin shots, but I do leave pills for them. I leave pills all over the reservation, Chay. Some people do a good job managing their condition, but a lot don’t. Jack Whirlwind was in end-stage renal failure—a complication of his diabetes—when I got here. He was going to Billings several times a week for dialysis, while Phyllis stayed at home baking, and eating, cookies. And letting her kids eat like she does.”

  “So they accept the risk. There’s nothing you can do to force them to modify their habits.”

  “You’re right. I can’t force them. But maintaining such a potentially devastating disease out here where there’s no support, where it’s simply easier to revert back to the old ways, is damned hard. I really think they mean to take care of themselves, at least when I’m here. But I’m not here all the time.”

  “And diabetes is really that widespread on the reservation?”

  “That widespread,” she said glumly. “I have three new diagnoses here alone.”

  Lunch was hasty. A nice salad, actually. The two of them opted to split a fried pie, and skip over the rest of the sweets. As they were eating, Chay couldn’t get his mind off of Jack Whirlwind. Or off Jack’s wife and daughter, for that matter. Sure, he’d read the statistics and the journal articles about the alarming increase of diabetes in American Indians. But he sure as hell had never expected to come face to face with it on such a personal level. And now he was left to wonder about his father. Some of the symptoms fit. At least the ones he’d seen did—weight loss, tiredness, eyesight problems, headaches.

  “How do you do it?” he finally asked Joanna.

  “One patient at a time. That’s the only way you can do it or it will drive you insane.”

  He watched her setting out the supplies for the immunizations. It was a mundane task, and one she was approaching with such optimism. He admired her for that. Admired her for what he saw, admired her for what he didn’t see. She was the kind of doctor he should have been, the kind he’d never found the heart to be.

  “Why don’t you let me handle the shots this afternoon? I can do that while you see patients. That way, maybe we can get done early enough to go for a walk later on. There was this place down by the creek my dad used to bring me when he was up here on ranch business.” A nice place, greener than most places in the Big Open. Joanna would like it, he thought. Maybe they could take a few of Phyllis Whirlwind’s treats and have a picnic.

  Joanna smiled. “I haven’t had a real evening off in…well, weeks, probably. It’s been so long I can’t remember.”

  “Then it’s a date.”

  “A date,” she agreed.

  A date with Joanna. That, if nothing else, made staying at Hawk an extra few days worthwhile.

  Between immunizations and patients, the afternoon breezed by quicker than she’d expected it to. Normally these trips dragged out well into the night, but by suppertime her day was done. Completely done, and she was looking forward to her date.

  Angel Dupuis had drawn the supper chore, and thankfully it had turned out to be some hearty vegetable soup with fresh bread. Perfect, as Joanna had stopped by the Whirlwinds’ to deliver a month’s supply of medicine to Phyllis and Collette and had witnessed their evening fare—macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, bread and heaps of fried pies. She hadn’t lectured them about it. She didn’t do that. It would alienate them, and that would be the worst thing that could happen. So she’d handed over the pills, given them instruction on how to take them for the hundredth time in six months, left a pamphlet about diabetic eating habits, refused a generous, heaping plateful of their meal and had hurried away.

  “So how far is this place?” she asked, as she and Chay hiked south on an overgrown trail leading out of town. The prairie grasses came up to her knees and looked like they hadn’t been beaten down since for ever.

  “About a mile. We could have taken the Jeep, but I like to walk. Especially at night, when it’s quiet.” He chuckled. “In Chicago you never get quiet. The best you can do is shut your window and hope most of the noise stays outside.”

  “You like that?” His stride was much longer than hers, and even at an easy pace she was finding it difficult to keep up with him. “The noise? I used to live in Baltimore and I hated all the noise.”

  “You get used to it.”

  “I never did. Could you slow down a little bit?”

  “I could carry you.”

  She knew he was joking, but hearing him say it caused shivers to shoot up and down her arms. “I snuck a few extra bites of a fried pie before we started. After that, I don’t think you could lift me.”

  “I work out.”

  “I noticed.” Noticed in a big way! In fact, every time he wasn’t looking, she was noticing. Not smart but, oh, so good for her poor, tired eyes. Nothing better than a fabulous body like Chay’s to pop them right back open when they were fighting so hard to sleep.

  “I noticed you noticing a couple of times.” He reached out and took her hand. “So I guess that makes it worth all the money I spend at the health club to keep myself in shape. At least, I hope it does.”

  “You fishing fo
r a compliment, Doctor?”

  “Don’t need one, after the way I’ve seen you checking me out.”

  This was the first time they’d been away from medicine, and his father, and the affairs of the reservation, and especially away from their differences, and even though they were walking hand in hand through the middle of heaven only knew where, it did feel like a real date to her. All the anticipation and tingling over a first date with someone. All the expectations of a night out with someone. She…well, she wasn’t sure how she felt about. There was a complex mixture of emotions going on, both his and hers, and she didn’t want to ruin the moment trying to unravel them into something she could define better. So for now she was going to think about it as being out with someone who more than attracted her in the physical sense, someone she absolutely did like, and that was as far as she would allow it to go. For now.

  “This is lovely,” she said once they’d settled into a plush, grassy spot on top of a small butte overlooking the creek. Sitting atop a blanket Chay had brought along, they were nestled into a few scrub trees, nothing really secluded, yet very intimate, just the two of them together under all that fading sky above. The red sunset in the distance warmed the surroundings and Joanna had the feeling that no one had been there before—nothing or no one but the elk she saw silhouetted in the distance beyond the creek, and the lonely coyote who was hidden somewhere in the evening shadows howling for his lady love, or warning her about the human intruders in his territory. Or maybe he was howling at nothing at all, howling because he felt like it. She liked that—howling because he felt like it. She’d come out here with Chay because she felt like it. No other reason. She and the coyote, with similar motives.

  Drawing in a deep breath of pure, fresh air, Joanna finally relaxed. This was indeed a place for a long look at unobstructed beauty, and for the first few minutes there Joanna did nothing but drink it all in. “It’s amazing,” she whispered as reverently as she would have in a great cathedral. In a way, this was a great cathedral, one with perfect architecture that far surpassed anything sculpted. “During the day everything seems so…”

  “Desolate,” Chay supplied.

  Joanna nodded. “Desolate. But look at it now. At night. I’ve never seen it this way.” Before tonight she’d had neither the time nor the inclination to look. And describing it now as breathtaking didn’t come close to painting the true picture of it…of this wilderness all around them. Nothing did. “Did Leonard bring you here often?”

  “Not often, which meant that when I did get to come it was special.” Chay tossed his hat aside and propped himself against a small rock outcropping. “When I was a kid I really wanted trees in my yard. Trees anywhere. Something to climb, something to hang a swing from. But out here we don’t get trees, not real ones anyway, and I don’t think I appreciated the sunrises and sunsets, and especially the unbelievable skyscapes until my dad started bringing me here to the creek. And when you see all this, you realize that the only thing a tree would do is clutter the view.”

  “Do you miss it?” she asked, settling in next to him. “Living in Chicago, you have trees and water, but all this…do you miss it?”

  “Don’t think I knew how much until just now. And the best part is, in another few minutes, when the sun goes down, you’re going to see the blackest skies and whitest stars you’ve ever seen in your life. Millions of stars just hanging up there. In the city you don’t see stars, not like here. I used to love to make a wish on the first star I saw at night.”

  “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight,” Joanna recited wistfully. She’d done the same thing, too. “What did you wish for?”

  “Trees.” He chuckled. “Lots of trees, and I guess that wish came true because I’ve got them where I live.”

  She’d wished for a family. Of course, that had never come true. Star light, star bright…Joanna sighed, contented to let him sweep her along on his nostalgic ride. This was a wonderful place for a first date. Wonderful and romantic. She was just beginning to settle into the whole sensual ambiance of the evening, anticipating what might come next—maybe a kiss, maybe more—when Chay suddenly jumped up and headed down the side of the butte to the creek. “Going wading,” he called back. “Want to come?”

  Their first date…wading! Not what she’d expected. Definitely not what she’d have written in her personal journal, if she’d kept one. My first date with Chay—we waded. Not at all what she was hoping for. “Sure,” she called back, somewhat surprised, somewhat disappointed, somewhat relieved. “Why not?” Kicking off her shoes and going barefoot in the creek would have about the same effect as a cold shower, which was probably for the best since she’d been getting caught up in the romanticism of the moment, and even beginning to hope about all the places that moment would lead to. She knew it would lead Chay right back to Chicago, and that was as far as she should have gone with it. Problem was, even knowing the end of the story wasn’t stopping the thoughts from creeping in.

  Joanna sat on the butte for a minute, watching him play in the creek. It had taken her months to develop any kind of feelings for Paul. Months and months, and even then she hadn’t been sure about them. It was more like she’d forced them into place, then accepted them for what they’d been.

  But with Chay the feelings came easily. Too easily.

  That was bad. Even though the consequences were all so clear to her, she was willing to accept them, regardless. And she was beginning to understand how desperately regardless was going to hurt.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “NO!” SHE squealed, slipping over the slick shale on the creek bottom to get away from him. “Don’t you dare pull me down.”

  “You can’t run fast enough to get away from me.” Chay laughed as he reached out to grab Joanna by the back of her T-shirt. “And I have some experience playing in a creek, so give up, Joanna. You’re going down, and you can do it the easy way or the hard way.”

  “Wanna bet?” She squirmed free of him, then, in water up to her knees, she jumped into the night shadows of a scraggly bush overhanging the creek and held her breath until Chayton passed by her. “Oh, Chay,” she called from her hiding place. “I’m waiting.”

  She could hear him splashing closer and closer, and she held her breath and waited until she could sense his presence so close to her that she could reach out and touch him, even though the bush blocked her view. Then she lunged out of the shadows and knocked him over, laughing as he lost his balance and went all the way down. “Serves you right,” she said, bending down and splashing water at him, “thinking you’re better at this than I am. I’ll have you know that West Virginia has lots of creeks and I’ve had my feet in a fair share of them.”

  “You’re so bad,” Chay said, struggling to his feet. “And you’re about to get all wet.”

  “And you’re so back in the water.” As he pushed himself up to his knees she tried to shove him over again, but he caught her by the arm and pulled her down in with him. “You’re going to pay for that, Chayton Ducheneaux,” she squealed as she struggled to find her footing. But he kept pulling her back to him. “Once you let me up…”

  “Big talk, that’s all you are. Big talk.” He laughed. “And all wet, just like I said.”

  It had been years since she’d been wading or, as it was turning out, swimming. Last time she’d been immersed in water other than that intended for a bath or shower, it had been a swollen, muddy creek in Haiti and she’d been wading across it to get to a village on the other side. TB outbreak, and she’d been the only doctor for hundreds of miles.

  “Big talk?” She was glad it was dark, otherwise Chay would have been getting his very own wet T-shirt show right about now. She’d opted for braless tonight, somewhat for the heat, mostly for the comfort. And, OK, maybe she’d been jumping a bit ahead with Chay. There was some chemistry going on, they were two consenting adults, he had no expectations and neither did she. Not really. “You think I’m just big talk? Well, you think wrong, Doct
or. I never talk if I can’t deliver.”

  Twisting out of his clutch, Joanna turned and splashed him, then tried to get back to the relative safety of the bush, but he was too quick for her as he grabbed her by the ankle and dragged her back down into the water before she could fend him off. When she surfaced again, it was straight into his arms. “Like I said, big talk, Joanna, and apparently no delivery. You said you were going to make me pay and I’m still waiting.”

  “And just what are you willing to pay?” she asked, her face so dangerously close to his that her words came out more as a suggestion than the challenge she’d intended.

  “First you’ve got to tell me what you want from me,” he growled.

  What she wanted, and couldn’t have. Joanna could feel her heart speed up. Crushed to his chest, surely he could feel it, too. “Do you know what this is about?” she whispered, her voice so hoarse with need she barely recognized it as her own.

  He reached down to the bottom of her wet shirt and pulled it slowly above her waist, his hand skimming along her flesh causing her to shiver. Upward, ever so slowly, he stopped just before the shirt crossed over her breasts and ran his thumb over her erect nipples, which were more prominent under the soaked fabric than they would have been totally bare. “This is where I stop, Joanna, or go on, depending on what you want. It’s tonight for us. Maybe tomorrow or the day after, but…”

  She knew the rest, and it didn’t matter. She wanted tonight more than anything she could remember wanting in her life. And if that was all there was, so be it. Raising her index finger to Chay’s lips, Joanna sucked in a quivering breath. “It is what it is, Chay. I understand that. So this is where you stop talking and start paying.” She took hold of his hand and guided it under her wet shirt to her breast. “And if it is only tonight, make tonight count.”