Free Sundancer (Cheyenne Series) by Shirl Henke Page B

removed, and began to tug on the pants legs while the shaman shoved them below his narrow hips. When his sex was revealed, she caught a glimpse of it lying limply in a dense thatch of black hair, then quickly averted her eyes. The male member would always be ugly to Roxanna.
           Sees Much covered Cain's hips with a light blanket, then removed the packing he had placed over the wound. Congealed black blood crusted to his side and had pooled on the skins beneath him. Gently, Sees Much probed the ribs around the gored area, then instructed Roxanna, “Hold the compress against the wound while I turn him.”
           She moved closer and did as he instructed, but when the shaman rolled Cain on his side, she cried, “The bleeding's begun again.”
           He nodded as he deftly examined Cain's back, where a large ugly black bruise was forming. “Weasel Bear has much to answer for. Always he had an uncertain temper. It is good he has run away to hide his shame for this dishonorable act.” Satisfied no bones in Cain's back were broken, he turned him once more and reached out to take the compress from Roxanna.
           Her hands were red with gore. “Can he survive losing so much blood?” she asked.
           “It seems more than it is. The danger in such a wound as this, deep and narrow, is that the blood remains inside and poisons. That is why we must draw out the bad blood.” He pointed to a small mortar and pestle, then reached for a bag filled with dried red dock roots. “I will grind these while you fetch clean water from upstream and set it to boil on the fire.”
           When she had done as he asked, she watched as he poured the steamy water over the pulverized roots until he had made a sticky poultice. While it cooked, he cleaned Cain's wound of the dried blood. Satisfied with the cleansing, the old man began to apply the medicine, then opened another pack and removed a fistful of dried cattails, which acted as a soft absorbent bandage.
           “Now we must bind his ribs. At least one has been cracked where the buffalo's horn struck him.”
           To assist him in swaddling Cain's body in the long strips of soft doeskin, Roxanna had to kneel by the half-breed's side and lean over him. She could feel his heat, touching his flesh so intimately, knowing he wore nothing beneath the blanket. As they finished the task, a stray lock of night-black hair fell across his forehead and she reached up, gently stroking it back without realizing what she was doing.
           Sees Much beamed to himself as he gathered up his medicines and implements. “I will sit with him through the day. Go and eat, then rest, for you will take the night turn when I grow weary.”
     
    * * * *
     
           Cain fought his way up through what seemed a deep well of blackness and pain. Blinking his eyes, he tried to focus on the blurry figure leaning over him. All he could make out was a silvery halo glowing around her head. Alexa . Had he said it aloud? Before he could decide, the ache in his side roared to life and he sank back into the dark well.
           Roxanna sponged his face with a cool cloth, then rinsed it out and applied it again. When he first rode into camp, she had thought his features harsh and dangerous, but lying unconscious, she could see the incredible male beauty in them, the best of two worlds, red and white. She touched his beard-stubbled cheeks with their high Cheyenne bones, then ran her fingers over the ridge of his straight nose and elegantly sculpted mouth, recalling the whiteness of his smile in that bronzed face.
           How would those lips feel pressed to yours? Where had that appalling thought come from? She removed her hand with a startled jerk and sat back, looking away from Cain's face, so young and guileless in repose. The bucket filled with soaking feverweed caught her attention. No help for it, Sees Much had shown her what she must do