supports and were piled on the platform to the right of the fire pit. The smoky hut smelled of tobacco, herbs, and wet fur.
Wolf Shadow was crouched to the left of the fire pit beside the patient. His welcome was no warmer than that of the others. “You have no business here,” he said harshly.
Ignoring him, Fiona moved toward the woman in labor. She lay on the low platform on a bed of furs, eyes closed, round face contorted with pain. “Don’t be frightened, I’ve come to help you,” Fiona began.
“Don’t touch her.” Wolf Shadow took hold of Fiona’s arm. “This is no place for you.”
An old woman shook her fist and muttered something that Fiona knew could only be unpleasant. A swell of distrustful murmuring rose from those around the fire. The baby began to cry again.
“Please,” Fiona entreated. “I’ve tended many cases like this. If you’ll only let me look at her.” She clutched her medicine case and looked up into Wolf Shadow’s irate face. “I have herbs here that—”
A muscular brave leaped up from beyond the fire and handed the weeping toddler to the old woman. “You go,” he ordered, motioning with his hand.
“Leave my house. You have no welcome here.”
“I can help,” she insisted. “Are you the husband? Spear . . . Spear Thrower?” He nodded. “I know about such things. I can use white medicine to help Sage.”
Wolf Shadow made a sound of impatience and propelled her toward the doorway. “Outside.”
Her face flamed as she heard the Shawnee shouting approval. “You don’t understand,” she protested. “I—”
He shoved her through the door and followed her out into the cold air. “Are you stupid that you can’t understand a simple order?”
She twisted out of his grasp, her temper flaring. “Are you such a fool that you don’t see I only want to help? I’m trained for such cases.”
A muscle twitched along his tight jawline. “And naturally,” he replied sarcastically, “European knowledge of such matters is superior to the primitive customs of savages.”
“You said it. I didn’t.” She balanced the heavy physician’s case on one hip and glared at him with stubborn righteousness.
“Pah!” Wolf Shadow spat on the ground.
“My grandfather earned his medical degree at one of the finest universities. I studied under him for years. Will you let that woman lose her baby—maybe die because you’re too arrogant to consider I might know more about the complications of childbirth than you do?”
His features hardened. “I am a shaman—a moon dancer,” he explained with rigid patience. “I have studied medicine since I was six winters old. The suffering of women is not unknown to me, Irish Fiona.” He glanced around at the curious villagers, drawn near by the heated words exchanged between their shaman and the red-haired white woman. “Have you all nothing to do?” he demanded.
The onlookers scattered, pointedly turning their attention to other matters. Willow walked toward Wolf Shadow, an amused expression on her face, and spoke to him in Algonquian. “I knew when I laid eyes on her that she would be trouble, brother. Why, when you finally decide to cause woman trouble, must it be with an Englishwoman?”
“I have need of a sweat house,” he replied in English, ignoring her sarcasm. “Fiona says she is wise in the ways of Englishmanake medicine. She claims to be a healer in her own land. She says I will not let her treat Sage out of arrogant pride.”
Willow shrugged and continued to speak in the Indian tongue. “Only you can know if that’s true, brother.” She turned an appraising look on Fiona, and the amusement faded from her brown eyes. “Sage and Spear Thrower trust you,” she murmured. “If their unborn child is lost, they will not blame you. But . . .” She left the rest unspoken.
Wolf Shadow looked at Fiona. “I will accept your assistance, since you are so certain of your abilities. But you must understand, if the child
Wolf Shadow was crouched to the left of the fire pit beside the patient. His welcome was no warmer than that of the others. “You have no business here,” he said harshly.
Ignoring him, Fiona moved toward the woman in labor. She lay on the low platform on a bed of furs, eyes closed, round face contorted with pain. “Don’t be frightened, I’ve come to help you,” Fiona began.
“Don’t touch her.” Wolf Shadow took hold of Fiona’s arm. “This is no place for you.”
An old woman shook her fist and muttered something that Fiona knew could only be unpleasant. A swell of distrustful murmuring rose from those around the fire. The baby began to cry again.
“Please,” Fiona entreated. “I’ve tended many cases like this. If you’ll only let me look at her.” She clutched her medicine case and looked up into Wolf Shadow’s irate face. “I have herbs here that—”
A muscular brave leaped up from beyond the fire and handed the weeping toddler to the old woman. “You go,” he ordered, motioning with his hand.
“Leave my house. You have no welcome here.”
“I can help,” she insisted. “Are you the husband? Spear . . . Spear Thrower?” He nodded. “I know about such things. I can use white medicine to help Sage.”
Wolf Shadow made a sound of impatience and propelled her toward the doorway. “Outside.”
Her face flamed as she heard the Shawnee shouting approval. “You don’t understand,” she protested. “I—”
He shoved her through the door and followed her out into the cold air. “Are you stupid that you can’t understand a simple order?”
She twisted out of his grasp, her temper flaring. “Are you such a fool that you don’t see I only want to help? I’m trained for such cases.”
A muscle twitched along his tight jawline. “And naturally,” he replied sarcastically, “European knowledge of such matters is superior to the primitive customs of savages.”
“You said it. I didn’t.” She balanced the heavy physician’s case on one hip and glared at him with stubborn righteousness.
“Pah!” Wolf Shadow spat on the ground.
“My grandfather earned his medical degree at one of the finest universities. I studied under him for years. Will you let that woman lose her baby—maybe die because you’re too arrogant to consider I might know more about the complications of childbirth than you do?”
His features hardened. “I am a shaman—a moon dancer,” he explained with rigid patience. “I have studied medicine since I was six winters old. The suffering of women is not unknown to me, Irish Fiona.” He glanced around at the curious villagers, drawn near by the heated words exchanged between their shaman and the red-haired white woman. “Have you all nothing to do?” he demanded.
The onlookers scattered, pointedly turning their attention to other matters. Willow walked toward Wolf Shadow, an amused expression on her face, and spoke to him in Algonquian. “I knew when I laid eyes on her that she would be trouble, brother. Why, when you finally decide to cause woman trouble, must it be with an Englishwoman?”
“I have need of a sweat house,” he replied in English, ignoring her sarcasm. “Fiona says she is wise in the ways of Englishmanake medicine. She claims to be a healer in her own land. She says I will not let her treat Sage out of arrogant pride.”
Willow shrugged and continued to speak in the Indian tongue. “Only you can know if that’s true, brother.” She turned an appraising look on Fiona, and the amusement faded from her brown eyes. “Sage and Spear Thrower trust you,” she murmured. “If their unborn child is lost, they will not blame you. But . . .” She left the rest unspoken.
Wolf Shadow looked at Fiona. “I will accept your assistance, since you are so certain of your abilities. But you must understand, if the child
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