His Medicine Woman

by Stella Bagwell

  Wordlessly, he gestured for her to precede him down the short hallway. Pulling back her shoulders, Bridget moved past him, then on to the small kitchen where a bare lightbulb over the sink illuminated most of the room.

  A small pine table with matching chairs worn smooth from years of use was situated along the outside wall. As she moved toward it, she unbuttoned her coat. She was shrugging one shoulder free of the cream-colored cashmere garment when he came up behind her and with both hands lifted it away for her.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  While she took a seat, he carried the coat over to a hall tree standing by a door that exited the house. After hanging it next to a jean jacket with a sheepskin collar, he moved to a white gas range and switched on a burner beneath a granite coffeepot.

  “The coffee was made for supper. It’s strong.”

  “That’s fine,” she assured him. “I need for it to be strong.”

  With the burner blazing beneath the simple pot, he turned away from the stove and as his dark eyes focused on her, Bridget felt exposed and all too aware of how she must look to him. She’d not taken the time to change from the formal clothes she’d been wearing for Conall’s wedding reception. Now she desperately wished she’d taken a moment to race upstairs and change out of the strapless dress fashioned of emerald-green faille. To make matters worse, diamonds glittered at her throat, her ears and hair, while high, high heels of the same emerald color adorned her feet. No doubt he was viewing her as someone who lived far away from his world and she hated that this unexpected reunion was displaying her in a way that didn’t depict her normal day-to-day life.

  When he failed to make any sort of comment, she felt compelled to explain. “I—was—when you called—it was at the wedding reception for my brother, Conall. I didn’t want to waste time changing clothes. That’s why—I’m dressed this way.”

  “I’m sorry I interrupted your evening. I didn’t want to.”

  He was still brutally honest, she decided. She figured eating a sandwich of nails and sandpaper would have probably been easier than calling upon her for help. Not that he disliked her or even held ill feelings for her. No, the end of their relationship had been far more complex. There had been no hateful, judgmental words or spiteful arguing. They’d parted just as they had met, with love.

  “I wasn’t complaining,” she told him. “Just explaining.”

  “I don’t need that.”

  He turned back to the coffeepot while Bridget closed her eyes and tried to get her breathing back on an even keel. Of course he didn’t need explanations from her, she thought. What she was wearing or what she’d been doing didn’t concern him.

  Behind him, Johnny heard the coffee strike a boil and he turned his back to her in order to switch off the burner and gather cups from the cupboard. After he filled both of them with the dark, pungent liquid, he carried them over to the table where she sat, then went to the refrigerator to collect a can of evaporated milk.

  When he placed the milk can in front of her, a faint smile crossed her face. “Thank you for remembering,” she said.

  Johnny could have told her that taking milk in her coffee was not the only thing he remembered about her. And seeing her again tonight was bringing those recollections back in a violent rush. Oh, God, he’d rather have taken a knife blade to his chest than call her tonight. But she was the only doctor his grandmother would agree to allow in the house. And with Naomi’s health rapidly deteriorating, he’d had no choice but to ask Bridget for help. Now as he looked at her, he felt sick with wants and regrets.

  Somehow these past years he’d managed to avoid running into her. It had meant declining invitations from her brother and his good buddy, Brady Donovan, to visit the Diamond D, and making sure he didn’t go near anywhere he suspected she might be. But that hadn’t taken much effort. His lifestyle rarely took him off the reservation and he’d never traveled in the same social circle as the well-to-do Donovans.

  Pulling out a chair across from her, he eased onto the seat. “What do I need to do for Grandmother?”

  She spilled a small amount of milk into her coffee and slowly stirred it with the spoon he’d left in her cup. “See that her room gets more heat and try to get as much liquid down her as possible. Things like chicken broth, fruit juices or even sports drinks. She hasn’t been consuming much food or drink, has she?”

  “No. Only a bit of goat’s milk. It was the only thing she wanted.”

  A soft sigh escaped her and Johnny’s gaze was drawn to her heart-shaped face. She was still breathtaking, he decided. Eyes as pure and green as a mountain meadow were framed by delicately arched brows and long lashes, both of which were a few shades darker than her copperred hair. Smooth, milk-white skin was sprinkled here and there with pale freckles, especially across the bridge of her straight little nose and the crest of her shoulders. Soft, dewy lips, the color of a raspberry, were full and tilted sweetly upward at the corners.

  The lips, the freckles, the white satin skin of her body had all been touched by his mouth, he thought. But not enough. Not nearly enough.

  “That’s fine, too,” Bridget was saying. “Anything she’ll take to hydrate her and give her strength is good.”

  She took another long sip of coffee, then spoke again. Though this time she kept her gaze on the liquid in her cup rather than him. Johnny decided it was almost a relief not to feel her green eyes on his face.

  “She’ll need to take several more medications. Early in the morning, I’ll fetch them and drive back.”

  This jolted him. He’d only expected to see her just this once. Just long enough for her to diagnose his grandmother’s illness and prescribe medicine. He wasn’t sure he could take being around her any more than that.

  This isn’t about how you’re feeling, Johnny. This is about your ailing grandmother and what she needs.

  “Write the prescriptions and I’ll get them,” he told her.

  She shook her head. “It would be a waste for you to make the trip when I’ve got to return anyway.”

  “Why do you have to return?”

  Her brows shot upward and he realized she considered his question stupid. And maybe it was. But having her here, seeing her so close was ripping him apart, like two hands tearing a piece of cloth. Much more of her presence and there would be nothing left to hold him together except a few fragile threads.

  “I don’t think you understand the severity of your grandmother’s illness, Johnny. She needs an IV drip and that will have to be monitored. Plus, I’ll need to make sure her lungs haven’t worsened overnight.”

  Her voice had gone firm and professional and he was glad for that. The sound jerked him out of the past and away from the time when her soft words had excited him, soothed him, nestled in his heart like golden sunshine saved for a dark and lonely night.

  He let out a heavy breath. “And what if they have worsened?”

  She pressed fingertips to the tiny crease in the middle of her forehead. “My plan is to keep that from happening. If it does… Then you or your grandfather will have to do your best to change her mind about the hospital.”

  His grandmother was a stubborn soul, Johnny thought. Though she loved her husband and grandson, she had her own ideas about life and how she should live it. If she believed the Great Spirit was calling, then she’d give up her earthly fight to survive.

  “My grandparents have very little money. But whatever charges you need to make I’ll see that you’re paid in full.”

  Staring hard at him now, she lowered her cup to the tabletop. “I’m not here for money, Johnny,” she said stiffly. “Not any money.”

  “I don’t expect such favors from you.”

  “No,” she said softly, sadly. “You’ve never expected anything from me, have you?”

  A tight fist was suddenly in his throat, twisting and clawing. He swallowed. “I’ve already taken enough from you, Bridget.”

  She didn’t say anything. Instead, she reached across
the small tabletop and touched her hand to the top of his. Something hit him deep in the gut and for a moment the room around them faded. The urge to lift her hand to his lips, to pull her from the chair and gather her close was gripping him like an iron claw.

  But having her body next to his wasn’t part of his plan. She was a luxury he couldn’t afford. A sin he couldn’t commit. Not again. She belonged in her own world. Not his. But he didn’t offend her by jerking his hand away. Instead, he endured the sweet torture until she finally cleared her throat and pulled her hand back to her side of the table.

  While he deliberately avoided making eye contact, she drained the last of her coffee and rose to her feet.

  “I’ve done all I can do for right now,” she said. “But I’ll be back in a few hours with the medications she needs.”

  By the time she drove to Ruidoso there wouldn’t be much left of the night, he realized. Rising from the chair, he said, “You should rest first. And your clinic is—”

  “Accustomed to dealing with my emergency leaves,” she interrupted, then added with a faint smile. “Don’t worry, Johnny, I’m a doctor. I’m used to going on very little sleep.”

  She was a doctor because she wanted to be. Not because she needed a job or the income. She was a giver. Not a taker. Yet she’d taken his heart and he’d never been able to get it back.

  Nodding slightly, he said, “I’ll walk you to your Jeep.”

  “That isn’t necessary.”

  “The dogs don’t know you,” he explained.

  Starting out of the kitchen, she said with a bit of humor, “By the time I get Naomi back on her feet, I’ll have the dogs eating out of my hand.”

  And what would she have him doing? Johnny wondered. Forgetting that he was a man of honor? Forgetting his vow to never touch her again? For his grandmother’s sake, he was going to have to push his emotions aside and deal with this woman in a reasonable way.

  But there was nothing reasonable about the way he was feeling as he walked along beside her. He wanted to jerk her into his arms and kiss her. He wanted to carry her off to some dark place and make love to her as though they’d never parted.

  Reasonable? Hell, it would be a miracle if he managed to resist her. But he had to, because letting her go the first time had nearly broken him. And he wasn’t sure he’d survive it again…?. That’s why he couldn’t let himself take a second chance with Bridget. Giving her up twice would crush him.

  Chapter Two

  “Bridget? Are you in there?”

  The sound of her sister’s voice broke through the fog of Bridget’s sleep and she opened her eyes to see early morning sunlight streaming through her office window.

  Slowly she sat up and swung her legs to the floor. “Yes—come in,” she called groggily.

  As she attempted to push a tangled web of hair away from her face, Maura strode in carrying a foam cup filled with steaming coffee. Her older sister was dressed in a pair of bright colored scrubs, while the happy smile on her face said the night of partying had hardly affected her energy level.

  Bridget was often amazed at how her sister always remained so young and beautiful and bubbly. She and her husband Quint had two little boys, Riley and Clancy, and both were under the age of three. When she wasn’t working here at the clinic as Bridget’s supervising R.N., she was taking care of her husband’s and children’s needs, along with keeping a close eye on her grandfather-in-law, Abe. But Maura was in love, Bridget thought wistfully. And she had a husband who loved her back. Maybe that made all the difference.

  “Oh, my, you do look awful,” Maura exclaimed as she came to a stop in the middle of the room. “You’d better get some of this coffee down. Your first patient will be arriving in about an hour.”

  Groaning, Bridget scrubbed her face with both hands. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time for the coffee. Is Janna here yet?”

  “She just came in, why?”

  “Because my morning appointments are going to have to be rescheduled. Tell her I’ll try to work in the most serious cases this afternoon, the rest will have to be scattered through the remainder of the week.”

  “Oh. What’s up?”

  Rising from the couch, Bridget took the cup from her sister and downed several fortifying sips before she answered, “An emergency. Johnny Chino’s grandmother is very ill. I need to leave in a few minutes to travel back to the reservation and treat her again.”

  Maura frowned. “Is that where you raced off to last night? Brady told us you had an emergency, but he didn’t know where.”

  Nodding, Bridget handed the cup back to Maura, then plucked her high heels from where she’d stepped out of them early this morning. Thankfully her private office was not only large enough to accommodate a couch for her to crash on during emergencies, it was also equipped with an ample-size shower and a closet with enough room for several changes of clothing. Ileana Sanders McCleod, the physician who’d originally built this clinic, had definitely understood what a doctor needed to keep herself on schedule.

  “That’s right,” she said, answering Maura’s question.

  “But why call you? I mean, there’s an Indian hospital right on the reservation.”

  Bridget kept her face carefully averted from her sister. Although, she wasn’t sure why she needed to guard the emotional upheaval she’d gone through last night. Maura had no idea that she’d ever had any sort of connection to Johnny Chino. Nor did the rest of her family. Without that knowledge, there was no way Maura could read anything into her expressions.

  “Naomi Chino is ninety-three and refuses to go to the hospital. She—asked for me to come and I—couldn’t refuse.”

  “Hmm. I suppose you should feel honored that she wanted you treating her instead of a doctor from her own tribe. But frankly, it doesn’t make sense. Have you met her before?”

  Bridget kept herself busy pulling bobby pins from her thick mane and allowing the curls that had managed to stay fastened to her head fall to her midback. “Years ago. I went to a few festivals on the reservation and we…talked during those occasions. But I figure Brady’s long friendship with Johnny is probably the reason she wanted me to doctor her.”

  “Oh, yes. They’ve been like brothers since way back. Probably since kindergarten days.”

  Bridget smiled to herself. Imagining Johnny as a five-year-old boy was an almost impossible task. To her he’d always been a tall, bronze warrior, a man who made her heart beat fast and dreams blossom. How shocked would Maura be if she told her that? Bridget wondered wryly. What would her sister think if she told her that she’d once loved, still loved the Apache? It was a question that often entered her mind, but had never been put into spoken words.

  “So what’s wrong with Mrs. Chino?”

  Forcing her thoughts to the present, Bridget moved behind her desk, and searched through a drawer for a hairbrush. “Flu. And I’m afraid she’s near pneumonia.” Finding the brush, she began to tug it through the tangled curls. “So how did the rest of the reception go? Conall and Vanessa seem so happy, don’t they?”

  “They’re glowing like neon signs,” Maura agreed. “And everyone at the party seemed to have a great time. And the band was fabulous,” she added, then chuckled. “Who knew Conall liked doo-wop music! It was so much fun!”

  “I’m glad I got to be there for part of it.” With a few quick flicks, Bridget coiled her hair into a knot and pinned it to the back of her head. “I’d better get out of this dress and head to the shower. Would you tell Janna what’s going on?”

  “Sure.” Peering more closely at Bridget, Maura pushed her hip away from the desk. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine. Why?”

  Shrugging, she said, “I’ve never seen you looking so exhausted. Maybe you should ask another doctor to go to the reservation in your place.”

  “That’s out,” Bridget said flatly. “I’m handling this.”

  With a palms-up gesture, Maura made a move to leave the room. “Okay. It was just a suggestion.�
�� At the door, she paused to look back at Bridget. “What time do I tell Janna that you’ll be back here to the clinic?”

  “If all goes as planned I should be back by lunchtime. I’ll call if that changes.”

  Nodding that she understood, Maura said, “Be careful driving over the mountain. And don’t worry, I’ll help hold down the fort here.”

  “Thanks, sis.”

  Once Maura had slipped through the door, then shut it firmly behind her, Bridget jumped into action. Five minutes later, she was showered, dressed in a pair of neat gray slacks, black turtleneck and dress boots. After deciding to leave her hair loose, she grabbed a red woolen jacket and headed out a back exit of the clinic.

  By now, the morning sun was beginning to filter through the golden autumn leaves of a nearby aspen. Maura’s truck, along with the receptionist’s car, was parked alongside her Jeep in the private parking area. Sharp north winds were swooping across the parking lot, forcing Bridget to pull on her jacket before she climbed in and started the engine. As she backed the vehicle onto the quiet street running adjacent to the rear of the building, she was glad that she’d filled the gas tank last night, rather than having to take extra time to do it this morning.

  As for the medications Naomi needed, Bridget didn’t bother making a stop at the nearest pharmacy. She’d pulled the medicines from the private stock of drugs she kept on hand for use at the clinic. If Johnny happened to notice there were no pharmacy labels on the bottles, she’d explain they were samples and leave it at that. From past experiences, she knew that he and his grandparents were proud people and didn’t want or expect handouts of any kind.

  Even though it was daylight and the road clearly visible, it took more than thirty-five minutes to drive to the Chino home. During the trip, Bridget tried to keep her mind on Naomi and the treatment she’d mentally mapped out for her. But even as Bridget pondered the old woman’s ailment, Johnny was right there, haunting, reminding her that so much had changed and yet so much was still the same. His strong, solemn face was the last thing she’d seen last night as she’d driven away from the Chino home and this morning when Maura had woken her, it had been Johnny’s image who’d instantly rushed to the forefront of her thoughts.