White Wolf. Lindsay McKenna
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Would the wolf charge him? Dain wasn’t at all sure, but something whispered to him that she had full control over that huge, white beast and wouldn’t allow it to attack him. As he drew closer, he could see her face more clearly. The sunlight touched her, making her coppery skin glow with a golden radiance and her expressive brown eyes look almost black. It was her eyes that drew him, mesmerized him. He could swear he saw laughter in them—but he somehow knew she was not laughing at him, but simply relishing some funny cosmic joke known only to herself.
As he approached more closely, he heard her speak firmly in a language unknown to him. Instantly, the white wolf sat down at her side, thumped his tail in a friendly way and looked up adoringly at her. When she placed her long, thin hand upon the wolf’s head, Dain almost felt as if she were reaching out and touching him! It was a ridiculous thought, but then, maybe this place was magical, as Luanne had warned him. She’d said Rainbow Butte had been a sacred place to the Hopi and Navajo people for thousands of years. Many ceremonies, powerful ceremonies honoring Mother Earth and the Navajo Yei and Hopi Kachinas, had taken place here.
Dain didn’t believe in magic, but he couldn’t ignore the powerful thrumming now beating through his chest. His racing heart felt light and an unexpected emotion deluged him as he drew within a hundred feet of the woman. That feeling was hope.
Chapter Three
She was breathtakingly beautiful, like a wild animal trapped inside a woman’s body. To Dain, she looked more wolf than woman. He couldn’t help but smile as he halted, craned his neck upward and simply absorbed the golden radiance of her features. He saw her full lips curve into a smile of welcome—and he felt an incredible warmth come over him, blanketing his head and shoulders, and falling around him like a thick cloak. A security blanket, Dain decided.
He placed his hands on his hips and grinned back at her, feeling like a reckless kid of nineteen again. The sunlight emphasized the ebony quality of her braided hair, and now that he was closer, he could see the details of her clothes and jewelry. A leather thong hung from her neck and disappeared inside the thick, fuzzy green sweater she wore beneath her white deerskin jacket. He saw a huge piece of turquoise-and-silver jewelry wrapped around her right wrist.
Drawn to her hands, which were long and expressive, he vaguely wondered if she was an artist. And then Dain recalled that she was a rug weaver. She was taller than he’d expected; probably around five foot ten or eleven inches. He could tell that despite her ethereal radiance, she was a strong woman who could live in this godforsaken desert and not only survive, but probably thrive.
“I’m stuck,” he said by way of greeting, gesturing to his vehicle.
“Yes, you are. In more ways than one, I’d say.”
Her low, husky voice flowed across him like a lover’s caress. Her eyes sparkled with laughter and even though her mouth never lifted into a smile, Dain felt her smile. But he knew she wasn’t making fun of him. It was a benign, loving thing he felt.
“I’m looking for a medicine woman. Her name is Tashunka Mani Tu. Are you her?”
“What do you want with her?”
Dain saw her expression close up, heard her voice lose some of its embracing warmth. The white wolf pricked up his ears in interest, watching him. “They said she could heal anyone. I need a healing from her.”
Her lips lifted, the corners curving slightly. “She doesn’t cure anything.”
His brows fell and he felt sudden anger. “They said she cured cancer.”
Not wanting to show her fear, she lifted her hand in a graceful gesture and said, “The only person who can cure you is yourself.”
Erin wrestled within herself. Why did he have to be a white man? Anything but a white man!
Thunderstruck, Dain swayed, caught himself and glared at her. The momentary lightness he’d felt in her presence was smashed beneath the tunneling, annihilating anger that surged through him now. Her low, vibrating words were like a slap in the face.
“Just what the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m not responsible for whether you keep or get rid of the tumor you carry.” Panic set in and she felt as if she wanted to run—but she knew her duties as a healer, so she remained, even though every shred of her being wanted to flee from this angry white man.
His eyes narrowed and his mouth became a thin line of fury. “Who the hell do you think you are?” he snarled. “They said you cured anything. Well, I want to be cured.” He jabbed a finger up at her. Instantly, the white wolf was on his feet. The animal gave a low, warning growl, the hackles on his neck standing up.
“Maiisoh,” Erin murmured in her native tongue, looking down at her wolf, “be patient…”
The animal reluctantly sat down and stopped growling. Nevertheless, his amber eyes never left Dain.
Dain had no idea what the woman had said, but when he saw the wolf sit down, he felt less threatened—for the moment. But when he looked at her, saw how she stood there with such a serene look on her face, his anger rose once again. He was dying and she really didn’t give a damn! Fury made his voice vibrate. “They said to bring you groceries and ask you to help me.”
Erin saw the dark anger in his narrowed blue eyes and felt it all the way to her soul. He was pale, his brow beaded with small droplets of perspiration. A small piece of her felt compassion toward him, but the rest of her simply wanted to run and disappear—as she had done so many years before, from her own reservation.
“Then the groceries are a payment, not a gift of generosity?”
He stared at her. “Luanne Yazzie said to bring you groceries. Do I give a damn whether they’re payment for your services?”
“You should,” she said as lightly as possible, gesturing toward the vehicle in the wash. “I was hoping you would come with open hands and an open heart.” Her experience told her no white man ever had an open heart. Not ever. They were selfish. Self-serving. Why had this white man been sent to her?
“Is that what you want?” he growled. “You want me on my knees, begging you? Well, lady, I don’t beg anyone for anything. You got that? I followed the rules of this reservation. I brought groceries. Now I expect something in return.”
Her lips curved a little more. She couldn’t help but smile at his blatant arrogance and self-righteousness. Fine. She’d treat him like all the rest who came to her with this type of belligerent attitude. “Very well, Mr…?”
“My name is Dain Phillips.”
“All right, Dain Phillips, you are approaching me with your groceries to buy something from me? Is that correct?”
Suddenly, Dain didn’t trust this woman. He heard the lightness in her voice, as if she was teasing him, and that angered him even more.
“You tell me how many groceries you need to cure me of cancer and I’ll make damn sure you’re supplied with them.”
Laughter bubbled up from her. She saw the dark disapproval on his square face, felt the anger aimed at her. She countered his anger with her compassion for his situation.
“I have never been approached with such an offer,” she admitted, trying to hide the slight smile that pulled at the corners of her mouth.
“Well,” he said waspishly, “though you find this so damned funny, you still haven’t told me who you are. Are you Tashunka Mani Tu?”
“I am many things to many people,” she replied, sobering. Over the years, her fame as a healer had traveled to other reservations. Lakota people who came to see her for help always called her Tashunka Mani Tu, which meant Walks With Wolves. “Who do you need me to be for you?”
“I don’t need you to be anything for me,” he retorted.
“Then you must leave, for I cannot