His Medicine Woman. Stella Bagwell
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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.
These past few years, she’d only heard snippets of information about him, mostly through her brother, Brady. And though she’d desperately longed to ask him more in-depth questions, she’d not done so. Johnny had never wanted anyone, especially Brady, to know about their short-lived affair and she’d always respected his wishes. But there had been many occasions she’d wanted to break down to one of her sisters, her mother, even her grandmother and pour out her feelings. Maybe they would think it a bit scandalous that she’d loved a man so different from them, but they would never condemn her for it. No, they were her family and they would console and support her in whatever way they could.
But discussing the situation with anyone wouldn’t help to change matters, she realized. And for the past five years, she’d tried to move on and hope that someday she would meet a man strong enough to drown out Johnny’s memory. So far that hadn’t happened. And she wasn’t really expecting it to. The weak flicker of a candle couldn’t take the place of an all-out blaze.
When she eventually parked in front of the Chino home, the dogs were the first to greet her, but this time their barks were only halfhearted and their tales were wagging.
Bridget didn’t wait for Johnny to step onto the porch; instead she snatched up her bag with the medicine and hurried toward the house. She was about to rap her knuckles on the facing of the screen door when the inner door creaked open and Charlie Chino stood staring out at her.
“Good morning, Mr. Chino.”
He pushed the screen wide and gestured for her to enter the house. Bridget stepped inside and waited while Johnny’s grandfather dealt with the door. As he did, she took note of his tall, straight posture, the long gray braid lying against the middle of his back. She was glad to see he was very agile and alert for someone his age. In fact, he hardly looked a day older than the last time she’d spoken with him.
“Naomi is awake,” he said. “She’s been asking for you.”
Doctors had rules. They weren’t supposed to get emotionally involved with their patients. But this was Naomi, the woman who’d mothered Johnny from the time he was an infant, and the fact that she was reaching out for Bridget caused her heart to wince. “I have more medicine to help her.”
Expecting the old man to immediately usher her back to the bedroom, she was surprised when he turned his quiet, wrinkled face toward hers.
“Naomi didn’t care if she got well. Until you came last night. I thank you.”
Bridget reached for Charlie’s big bony hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m glad I could help, Mr. Chino. Naomi has always been special to me. And so have you. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure she gets well.”
She didn’t bother adding that Johnny was equally special to her. The old man didn’t have to hear spoken words to see or understand things. She figured last night her feelings for his grandson had shown on her face and Charlie had read them clearly.
Charlie nodded and gestured toward the doorway leading to the back part of the house. As the two of them passed through the kitchen, Bridget was pleased to feel the house was somewhat warmer than it had been last night, which meant that Johnny was doing his best to follow the instructions she’d given him.
Glancing to her left, she noticed the table where she and Johnny had sat drinking their coffee was now cluttered with breakfast leftovers. Two plates smeared with congealed egg yolk sat among cups, jelly jars and other condiments. The sight reminded her that she’d not yet taken time for food. But apparently Johnny and his grandfather had already eaten.
She was wondering