Cherokee Baby. Sheri WhiteFeather

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СКАЧАТЬ younger man poured himself a cup of the godawful coffee and sipped casually. “What’d you do?”

      “I touched her. With a little too much familiarity, I suppose.”

      “Who is she?”

      “A good-looking redhead. She just arrived today. She seemed receptive at first. But she got upset after she found out who I was. I guess she thought I was taking advantage of my position here.”

      Michael removed his hat and tossed it on the desk. He wore his hair long and loose, as free and wild as his half-cocked grin. “What were you doing? Trying to get laid?”

      Bobby shook his head. At times Michael still acted like a smart-mouthed, bad-assed fifteen-year-old. But he knew it was a defense mechanism. Michael’s troubled heart had been wounded by his missing girlfriend—a young woman who’d deliberately left town, then disappeared.

      But at least the boy hadn’t lost his passion, his emotion, the fire that drove him. Bobby had a few stirring moments now and then, but for the most part, he felt dead inside.

      As dead as his wife.

      As disconnected as his amputated leg.

      “It’s normal to want, Uncle. To see a woman you desire.”

      “I’m not looking for a lover.” He missed the masculine release that came with sex, but he wasn’t about to share his stumped, disfigured body with anyone. He didn’t give a damn how active or athletic he was. Sex wasn’t the same as riding a horse or running on a dirt path or working out in the gym.

      Lovemaking required a partner. Human contact. And he couldn’t give of himself. Not anymore.

      “Apologize to her,” Michael said.

      “I did.” And now the only thing left to do was to avoid Julianne McKenzie. “I’m going home for a while. I’ll see you later.”

      “Uncle?”

      “Yes?”

      “You’re a good man.”

      Bobby’s chest constricted. The only love still left inside him was for Michael, for the youth he’d struggled to raise. “I’m not the champion you think I am.”

      “Yes, you are.”

      They stared at each other for a silent moment and then Bobby walked out of the barn and into the sun, unable to convince Michael that he wasn’t the warrior he used to be.

      As he took the path that led back to the lodge, where his truck was parked, he glanced up at the sky, looking for a picture in the clouds. A wolf or a deer. A protector of some kind.

      When he saw nothing but white puffs floating in a sea of blue, he cut across the grassy terrain and spotted her in the distance.

      For a second he thought she was a figment of his imagination. But the nervous jab in his stomach told him otherwise.

      She was real. And headed straight toward him.

      So much for avoiding Julianne McKenzie.

      Her hair billowed around her shoulders like a fire-tinged halo. And suddenly he was reminded of who he was.

      Robert Garrett Elk, from the A-ni-wo-di, the Red Paint Clan. No wonder the color of her hair fascinated him. The ancient members of his clan were noted for using red paint to attract lovers.

      Her hair had put a spell on him.

      “Bobby.” She said his name in a soft voice.

      He stopped, knowing he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t just slip past her.

      “Your receptionist told me I’d probably find you out here.”

      He glanced back at the building behind him. “I’m usually at the barn.”

      Julianne shifted her stance. She still wore the jeans and the simple T-shirt she’d sported earlier. But her hair, that scarlet, spellbinding hair, blew gloriously in the wind. “I owe you an apology.”

      “No, you don’t.” He jammed his hands into his pockets, thinking how small she was, just a sprite of a woman.

      “But I was rude to you,” she said.

      “That’s all right. I had it coming.”

      “That isn’t true.” She paused, took a breath. “It was a misunderstanding. I saw your ring and I assumed you were still married.”

      “Oh.” Taken aback, he kept his hands in his pockets. He couldn’t explain why he wore the wedding band Sharon had given him. He couldn’t admit the truth, not to anyone but himself. “That was a logical deduction, Ms. McKenzie.”

      “Julianne,” she corrected. “I’m so sorry about your wife.”

      Everything inside him went still. Dead still. He would never forget the pain and guilt that tainted Sharon’s memory. “Thank you.”

      “I’m divorced,” she offered.

      “Is that good or bad?”

      She shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.”

      “So what brought you to Texas?” he asked, trying to ease into a simpler conversation.

      “My birthday.”

      She made a sour face, and he found himself smiling. “That bad, huh?”

      “I’ll be forty.”

      He’d suspected as much. Although she wore her age well, he could see the maturity in her eyes, in her gestures. “You’ll survive. I did. Two-and-half years ago.”

      “You’re a man. Gray hair looks good on your gender.”

      And all those brilliant Irish locks looked incredible on her. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to the lodge.”

      She gave him a suspicious look. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

      “I’m headed that way. And I assume you barely got a chance to relax. Besides, I think you left your cane in the lobby. And your granny glasses. Oh, and those dowdy housedresses old ladies wear. I’m sure I saw one in your suitcase.”

      “Very funny.” She bumped his arm and started toward the lodge. “My cousins are going to have an over-the-hill party for me.”

      “Black balloons? A cake with a tombstone on it?”

      “Exactly.” She stopped, gazed up at him. “What did you do on your fortieth birthday?”

      He tried not to flinch. He’d been emotionally ill that day, churning about the condition of his body. He remembered throwing his prosthesis across the cabin and smashing a lamp to smithereens. Although he deserved to be punished for what he’d done to Sharon, the constant reminder wasn’t easy to bear. СКАЧАТЬ