His Medicine Woman

by Stella Bagwell

  “If you have news about Peter, then spit it out!” he directed at the sheriff. “Otherwise, I don’t want to see any of you worthless lawmen!”

  Ignoring the man’s rudeness, Ethan gestured to Johnny. “Mr. Holland, this is Johnny Chino. His business is tracking and he’s done this sort of thing before. He’s been kind enough to volunteer his services and for now, my department is going to step back and allow him to take over the search.”

  Outrage washed over the man’s face. “Are you kiddin’ me? You’re gonna let a—an Indian—that probably didn’t even finish elementary school take over? You’re gonna put my son’s life in his hands? Over my dead body!”

  Brady looked as though he wanted to grab the man by the throat and toss him out of the building, but Ethan quickly spoke up before any sort of exchange could be made.

  “If you keep this attitude up, it may be your son’s body you’ll be standing over. Maybe you’d better think about that, Mr. Holland!”

  At that moment, the weeping mother left her chair and rushed over to Johnny. Her tearful face was pleading with him.

  “Please, Mr. Chino, don’t pay any attention to my husband.” She cast an accusing glare at the man. “He doesn’t have any manners. And he—he doesn’t really care if Peter is ever found. Our son is…an embarrassment to him!”

  “You little liar!” he practically shouted. “I ought to knock your head off for that!” Furious, the man lunged toward his wife, his hand drawn back as if to strike her.

  Before Holland knew what had happened Brady grabbed him and locked both arms behind his back.

  “Get him out of my sight, Brady,” Ethan instructed, clearly finding it a struggle to hide his disgust for the man.

  While the combative man was being hauled out of the snack room, Johnny gently took Mrs. Holland by the shoulders and eased her down into the nearest plastic chair. Bridget stood to one side, wishing she could ease the woman’s pain, but knowing that Johnny’s strength and calm assurance would be far more help.

  “I’m—I’m so—so sorry,” the woman sobbed. “Please—please—I’m not like him— I don’t think those things— Just find my son. I don’t have money, but—”

  “I’m not here for money, Mrs. Holland,” Johnny said quietly. “What your husband said—means nothing to me. I’m here for Peter. And I will find him. I promise you that.”

  The woman’s relief was almost palpable as she grabbed Johnny’s hand and gratefully squeezed it.

  “Thank you, Mr. Chino. I’ll be forever in your debt.”

  He patted her shoulder, then looked over to Bridget and signaled with his eyes that they should be leaving. Nodding, she motioned to Maura and once her sister was at her side, Bridget spoke close to her ear, “Come outside with us. My medical bag is in Johnny’s truck. I want you to give Mrs. Holland a sedative and try to get her to rest.”

  Maura was clearly puzzled. “You don’t want to treat her yourself?”

  “I’m going—with Johnny.”

  Maura’s mouth fell open, but she didn’t say more. After everything that had just transpired, hearing her sister announce she was trekking off into the dark mountains on foot with an Apache tracker was nothing to get worked up about.

  “And he’s letting you?”

  Bridget gave her sister a smile that she was far from feeling. “He can’t stop me.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ten minutes later, with backpacks strapped to their shoulders, Bridget and Johnny departed the stables and headed up the sloping terrain, toward pine-covered foothills. Ahead of them, Daisy and Rowdy trailed their noses to the ground and let out encouraging woofs as they followed the tracks of Peter’s mount.

  By now, twilight was shading everything around them, but Johnny was planning to use the dogs as his guide until the sky grew so dark that he and Bridget were unable to see their footing. When that time came, he would find a decent place for them to camp, then resume the search in the early morning light.

  “The dogs sound like they know where they’re going,” Bridget said as she carefully trod behind Johnny and the path he was making. For the past few minutes the two of them had traveled mainly over open ground, but now they were emerging into the edge of the thick forest, making the horse’s trail even harder to follow.

  “The dogs will follow the route the horse took until he turned around and headed back to the stables. We need to find where Peter and his mount got separated. That will tell us what might have happened or, God willing, Peter might still be at that point.”

  “I hope we find it soon,” she wishfully replied.

  Forty minutes into the climb, the dogs were still trailing Tumbleweed’s path. Far down below them, the lights of the stables now appeared only as tiny twinkles in the black night. And up ahead, the ground was rising to a near vertical grade.

  Since the elevation for the town of Ruidoso was nearly seven thousand feet, Bridget figured it was equally as high here on the ranch’s mountain range or perhaps even higher. Several times during the climb, she’d felt a bit light-headed from the lack of oxygen, but somehow she’d continued onward and upward.

  “Are you sure we’re traveling in the right direction?” Her breathing labored, Bridget eventually called out to Johnny. “A horse couldn’t maneuver such steep terrain.”

  While he paused and waited for her to catch up, he peered off to their immediate right. “The dogs went south and I’ve not heard them bark for the past minute or so. I figure somewhere around here the horse either fell or bolted or Peter could have just gotten off and lost hold of the reins. I think the dogs have probably picked up the boy’s scent and now they can’t decide if they should follow it or the horse’s trail back down the mountain.”

  She stood beside him, her chest heaving as she gulped in the thin air. “What should we do now?”

  “Stop. And start again in the morning. At this point, I’ve got to see the boy’s markings. Without them I might as well be trying to find a field mouse in a hay meadow.”

  Bridget glanced around her. In the darkened forest, she could barely see her hand in front of her face, much less the massive tree trunks and underbrush. For the past quarter of an hour, she’d been blindly following Johnny, who seemed to have the night vision of a cat.

  Obviously, it would be both foolish and dangerous for them to try to go farther tonight. Yet all she could think about was a little boy, cold and frightened.

  “I understand. But since we’ve gotten on the mountain, the temperature has really dropped. And being out here alone and in the dark—he’s bound to be terrified!”

  “If we’d gotten an earlier start we might have found him before this. But for now we have to make the best of a bad situation.” He called to the dogs, then reached for her hand. “Come on. Follow me this way and we’ll make camp on the first flat shelf we come to.”

  A short time later, Johnny had erected a tiny dome tent with just enough space to shelter the two of them. A few feet away, he sparked a flame to a stack of fallen twigs and limbs they’d gathered nearby.

  While the fire grew and spread its warmth, Johnny pulled packaged food from a section of his backpack and took a seat on the ground. Bridget sank down next to him and rested her back against the trunk of a pine. On the opposite side of the fire, the two dogs instinctively understood that the hunt was on hold for the night and lay curled in tight balls, already asleep.

  “This won’t be like a hot meal,” he told her, “but it will keep us from going hungry.”

  “Thanks. It’ll be more than little Peter will have.” Removing her gloves, she accepted the package he offered. After using her teeth to tear into the plastic covering, she bit hungrily into the crackers wedged with peanut butter.

  “Going without food is not the boy’s biggest problem right now,” Johnny told her. “If he decides to crawl into a cave to get out of the cold, he might meet a bear or a big cat.”

  She finished one of the crackers and fished another from the plastic. All the
while Johnny’s presence, the feel of his thigh pressed alongside hers, the brush of his arm against hers, filled her with a sense of comfort she’d never quite felt before. She was in his domain now and she knew that she could trust him to protect and keep her safe.

  “That thought crossed my mind,” she replied. “And packs of wolves have always run on the ranch. They used to threaten the foals. Until Grandfather had all the paddocks surrounded with electric fencing. Do you think wolves would attack the boy if he came across a pack?”

  “It’s possible. Depends on whether the kid is injured and vulnerable. Or if he has enough gumption to try to scare an animal away. Brady said the boy only knows about town living,” Johnny said. “But that he’s always telling his mother that he’s a cowboy.”

  Bridget nodded. “Dallas told me the same thing. Apparently Peter snuck around to the back of the stables where Dallas and Lass tether the saddled horses that are waiting their turn to be ridden. Somehow he managed to get one free and ride off before anyone spotted him. And from what Dallas says, the horse was only wearing a halter. She’d not yet had time to bridle any of them.” Bending her head, Bridget closed her eyes and tried not to let the horrible images in her mind take control of her common sense. “Oh, God, Johnny, could this situation be any worse?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Much worse.”

  To her surprise, his arm slipped around her shoulders. Grateful that he was offering her the comfort of his body, she rested her head upon his shoulder. It wasn’t until she’d nuzzled her cheek against the warmth of his jacket that she realized how desperately exhausted she was. Since long before daylight, she’d been going at a frantic pace, first at the hospital doing her rounds, then the clinic, and now the brutal climb up the mountain.

  “What impression did you make of Peter’s father?” she asked drowsily.

  “I think he is mean to his wife and his child.”

  Lifting her head, she studied the strength of his profile and the way the fire glow was bathing his bronze skin with a golden hue. And as she looked at him, she thanked God that he was a good man. Good to the core of his being. “You mean abusive?”

  He nodded and she shuddered. “I just wondered what you thought, because I was thinking the same thing, too.”

  “If the man threatened to strike her in front of witnesses, he would surely do it behind closed doors,” Johnny said in a voice heavy with disgust.

  “She needs help,” Bridget murmured thoughtfully.

  “First she’ll have to help herself. And I think she found the courage to do that tonight.”

  Bridget picked up his hand and pressed it between hers. “I was so proud of you back there at the stables.”

  “Why?”

  “For being so cool and classy when that man was firing insults at you. For being so gentle and caring with Mrs. Holland.”

  He grimaced. “I should have knocked him on his ass. Not for my sake, but for hers.”

  No doubt he could have easily flattened the man, Bridget thought. Brady had often talked about the brute strength Johnny had displayed on the high school football field. And then the years he’d spent in the military had taught him how to use all that strength to fight hand-to-hand combat, if need be. But the military had also trained him to remain composed, to think before he reacted. He had all the merits needed to make a great lawman. Would he ever realize that? she wondered.

  She ventured to speak her thoughts out loud. “When you were standing there with Brady and Ethan I couldn’t help thinking how perfect you looked beside them—what a great asset you would bring to their team.”

  He made a cynical grunt. “I looked perfect, all right. Perfectly out of place.”

  Twisting her head around, she met his gaze. “That’s your way of thinking, not mine.”

  The corners of his mouth turned downward. “You have this notion that if I cut my hair and wear a uniform I’ll be a different man. It doesn’t work that way, Bridget.”

  Her groan of frustration was nearly lost as wind suddenly rushed through the pines and fanned the campfire.

  “Ethan would never make you cut your hair. And I don’t want you to be a different man. I want you to be you. That’s all.” She cupped her palm against the side of his face. “Being a lawman is deep within you, Johnny. I saw it that day you helped me deliver Leyla’s baby, and tonight as you dealt with the Hollands. You came to the ranch because you believed you could help, that you could find Peter. Isn’t that true?”

  His gaze drifted away from hers and settled on the fire. After a long stretch of silence, he said, “Maybe. But I mostly came for you.”

  His admission caused Bridget’s breath to catch in her throat. “Me?”

  Slowly, he turned his eyes back to hers. “I didn’t want to disappoint you. I’m tired of disappointing you.”

  Hope was suddenly bubbling, struggling to rise up in her. “Oh, Johnny! Does this mean—”

  “I can’t make you any sort of promises now, Bridget. Things have happened in the past—things you don’t know about. All the years we were apart—I wouldn’t let myself imagine a future with you. But then when Grandmother got sick and I saw you again—I hated myself because I wanted you so much.”

  She studied his face as confusion and optimism played a tug of war with her emotions. “What are you trying to tell me?”

  “When this search is over I’m going to have a talk with your father—that is—if he’ll agree to have a talk with me.”

  Stunned, her head swung back and forth. “Dad? Of course he would talk with you! But why? Do you honestly think you need to ask him for my hand in marriage? To get his blessing? Johnny, I’m—”

  “Damn it, this is about more than his blessing!” Rising to his feet, he walked over to where the dogs were still lying curled by the fire. Both of them immediately looked up at him and began to whine, as though they were ready and waiting for him to give them the signal to go do their job.

  Confused by his whole behavior, Bridget rose slowly to her feet and moved around the fire so that she was standing in front of him. “I don’t understand, Johnny. Please explain to me what all of this means.”

  With a shake of his head, he reached out and curled his hands around both her arms. “No, Bridget. Not tonight. Finding Peter is more important right now. Later—after we see what happens—then I’ll try to explain.”

  As Bridget searched his strained face, she realized she didn’t need to add to the problems he had on his mind right now. And in the end, he was right. Peter’s situation was critical. Finding the boy safe and sound was all that mattered. The issues with her and Johnny could be dealt with later.

  “You’re right,” she conceded. “We’ll talk about this later. Tonight—”

  The sound of Johnny’s cell suddenly emitted a broken ring interrupting the rest of her words. She waited anxiously as he fished the instrument from his pocket and snapped it in position against his ear.

  “Hello—Brady? Are you there?”

  After a moment, Johnny looked at her and shook his head. “The signal isn’t strong enough here on the mountain to maintain a connection. The call went dead.”

  “Maybe you can send a text to give him an update?” she suggested.

  “I already have. Before I set up the tent and you were gathering wood. If he has urgent information, he’ll send one back to me.”

  He’d hardly gotten the words from his mouth, when the phone signaled an incoming message. Johnny quickly flipped it open.

  “Snow coming,” he read. “Damn, that’s just great.”

  Fear raced down her spine and it was all Bridget could do from outwardly shivering. One child had already been lost to the Santa Ana winds. This time would it be the snow that would wipe away the crucial tracks of a lost little boy? Oh, dear God, don’t let it happen a second time, she prayed.

  She was about to ask him what he planned to do next when she spotted a few tiny flakes flying between them and she stared at them in horror.

 
; “It’s already here!” she exclaimed. “What will this do, Johnny? If the snow gets deep and we haven’t found Peter, I—”

  Before she could say more, he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly against him. “Don’t panic on me now, sweetheart.”

  Burying her face against his chest, she tried to give him a dry laugh but the sound actually came out as a choked sob. “I’m a doctor. I don’t panic. But I’m human and I worry.”

  He bent his head and pressed his cheek against the top of her head. “I shouldn’t have let you come on this search.”

  “You couldn’t have stopped me.”

  “No. But I can sure as hell take you back to the stables. It will take a while for us to get off the mountain—especially in the dark. But the movement will keep you warm and—”

  Jerking her head back from his chest, she shook it at him. “No! I’m not going anywhere! I don’t care how deep the snow gets. When daylight hits in the morning, you need to be here to continue on with the search. Not half dead from hiking all night!”

  “The weather could get brutal. I don’t want you to suffer.”

  Her chin lifted to a challenging angle. “We’ll keep the fire going,” she insisted. “And if you can handle this, so can I. We’re going to do this together, Johnny. Together.”

  He studied her face for long moments, then gently brought his hand up to push the hair off her cheek. Sighing softly, Bridget closed her eyes as his head dipped close and his lips pressed against her forehead.

  “Let’s build up the fire,” he told her, “and then we’ll get in the tent and out of this weather.”

  “The dogs—”

  “Don’t worry about them. They know how to fend for themselves.”

  Hours later, Johnny stared out the small opening of the tent at the bits of snow flying through the air. Mercifully, the weather was holding and only a small dusting of the white powder had fallen during the night. But even with the fire blazing and the warmth of Bridget’s body lying next to his, he could feel that the temperature on the mountain had plummeted. He prayed that Peter had found some sort of shelter. To find another child dead from exposure was too horrific to consider. So he refused to let his mind go in that direction. Instead, he thought about Bridget. About the positive hope she always projected, her smile and touch, her overflowing love.