White Wolf. Lindsay McKenna

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СКАЧАТЬ knocked out of it, Dain clung to her serene, beautiful features. Her image haunted him and for a moment, in his fevered state, he wondered if she were really an angel in disguise.

      She’d admitted she couldn’t heal him. He had to heal himself. How? Intrigued by her challenge, his mind bounced over their conversation. During the last year all he’d heard was how doctors could heal many things—just not his illness. So why was she saying he could heal himself, that she couldn’t do it for him?

      As he lay weakly against the seat with the warmth of the sun just beginning to strike the top of the truck, Dain tried to understand what Erin had said. If healers didn’t heal, just what the hell did they do? Medical doctors healed with their shots, their drugs and their expensive equipment. If she was who she said she was, he knew she’d healed others of terrible, encroaching diseases. Why would she lie to him then?

      Barely opening his eyes as he felt trickles of sweat winding their way down his temples, Dain cursed. She was an arrogant bitch. Oh, he’d met her type back in the boardrooms and halls of power around the world. Erin didn’t fool him. What had thrown him off guard was the fact that she was Indian and a shepherd.

      But a voice, barely heard, niggled at him. Was she really arrogant? Wouldn’t arrogance, true arrogance, preclude her saying something like, “Of course I can heal you of your brain tumor”? And had she said that? No.

      “Dammit,” he snarled, forcing himself to sit up. Reaching for a thermos filled with water, he unscrewed the cap with trembling hands.

      Okay, so maybe she wasn’t arrogant. At least, not in the true sense of the word. She’d promised him nothing. She’d thrown his disease back into his lap, into his hands, which no doctor anywhere in the world had ever done to him.

      Something wasn’t right, Dain decided as he poured himself some water. He gulped it down and poured some more. Soon the dryness in his mouth abated and he stashed the thermos away. Lying back, he sighed raggedly. The fever was eating at him, making him feel weak as a baby.

      He opened his eyes. How the hell had she known about him being abandoned as an eight-year-old? How? Stymied, he tried to explain it with the kind of logic that had made him billions. She lived out in the middle of a godforsaken desert where there weren’t any phone or electric lines. And besides, he made damn sure that his life story wasn’t privy to any news media, having had things about it sealed up permanently through court injunctions. No, Erin couldn’t have known about his young, miserable life—but she had. How?

      “Damn her,” he muttered weakly, closing his eyes again. Because he didn’t have a logical answer for her intimate knowledge, he felt a little frightened of her. That was power over him, as far as he was concerned. And yet the look in her eyes when she’d shared that with him had touched him as nothing ever had. He’d seen such love and pity for him in her eyes. He hated pity in any form and he had wanted to hate her in that moment, but the feeling wouldn’t form within him. If anything—and Dain fought this feeling violently—he’d sensed he could trust her with his life.

      It was a silly, crazy thought brought on by the fever, he rationalized. Or some stupid hallucination of hope that would dissolve when the fever left him in a couple of hours. Trust! Yes, she had a trustworthy face. He liked her voice, even if he didn’t like what she’d said to him. It was a low, husky voice laced with honeyed warmth that was undisguised, untainted by anything except…what? Truth.

      Well, here he was again with that word and Erin Wolf. Truth and trust. His damnable heart, the heart of that eight-year-old boy, wanted to trust her and believe her truth. The man did not. Not now. Not ever.

      So what was he going to do? Hitchhike back to the highway, stay here with the truck or go to her hogan? The prideful part of him said to leave and walk to the highway. The rational part said stay with the truck for the next three days, wait for the ground to dry out sufficiently and then drive back to Many Farms. He certainly had enough groceries in the back to live off of in the meantime.

      But his heart whispered that he should go to her hogan and leave everything in the vehicle.

      Dain didn’t know what to do, so he slept as the fever ate away more and more of his limited supply of energy. He couldn’t even think straight. He was crazy to think of going to her hogan. He wasn’t going to give the arrogant woman the pleasure of showing up on her doorstep. His pride wouldn’t let him.

      As he spiraled into darkness, he heard what he thought was singing. It was a woman singing. It was Erin, he realized from the dark embrace of sleep. The song, soft and gentle, was in an Indian language. As he lay there, feeling very warm and safe, the song embraced him and he sighed. Yes, it was a lullaby. He had no idea what the words were, but the song was so beautiful that it brought tears to his tightly shut eyes.

      In his sleep, he felt the warmth of tears oozing from the corners of his eyes, trickling down his face. The song was warm and husky, filled with love and hope. And though he had no idea what the lyrics meant, it didn’t matter. He felt their meaning, felt it vibrating through him, touching his walled-off heart and wrapping him in a sensation he’d never experienced before.

      A part of him panicked because he never wanted the song to end, because it fed him, nurtured him like the arms of the mother he’d never known, and he felt as if Erin were invisibly with him, cradling him against her tall, strong and protective body. He swore he could feel his head resting against her full breasts, hear the beating of her passionate heart, which throbbed with such vital life. Feel her arms move protectively around him, drawing him in.

      Yes, he was being held and rocked gently as she sang to him. Dain knew she was there even if he couldn’t see her in the inky blackness. He could smell the odor of wool, taste the sunlight that had touched her skin, and he heard the lulling bleat of sheep in the background.

      A broken sigh slipped from him as he relaxed within her invisible arms. He felt her compassion and it soothed his fevered body and gave him a sense of peacefulness he’d never known. The song continued to flow through him, touching him with the lightness of a feather. For the first time in his life, he felt safe. Safe! The sensation was wonderful to Dain, and he surrendered to it—and to her.

      The lullaby continued—haunting, melodic and healing. As he moved deeper and deeper into the darkness of sleep, Dain let go of all his anger, his fears and, finally, his anxieties. He slept the sleep of a baby who was protected by a mother who loved him, a mother who would protect him—always.

      Chapter Four

      One step in front of the other, one step in front of the other…

      Dain kept repeating that litany as he forced his foot to lift, move forward and then land on the damp clay ground beneath him. It was dusk. An all-pervading silence flowed across the land as the sun’s rays withdrew from the desert. Looking up, he saw the remnants of the fiery red-and-orange sunset touch the long, wispy clouds high above him.

      Those clouds had reminded him of Erin’s hair. Even though it had been plaited, he knew that her hair was long, thick and flowing just like those reddish clouds that moved slowly across the darkening vault of the sky.

      Trying to take his focus off his own misery, which was considerable, he kept his gaze locked skyward as night descended. Never had he seen stars look so close, or glimmer so brightly, as they now did. He turned to see the bare outline of Rainbow Butte, behind him in the distance. Dain’s mouth thinned momentarily as he resumed his slow progress. This land had a raw, primeval beauty about it—just as Erin did.

      Erin. Tashunka Mani Tu. Ai Gvhdi Waya. Asdzaan Maiisoh. Maybe Luanne Yazzie had СКАЧАТЬ