Deborah Camp by Lady Legend

understanding smile. Memories of the war crowded into his mind. He propped his elbows on the table and raked both hands through his hair. “I can’t stand the thought of another battle … more blood and death … brothers killing brothers. It’s insane!” He stared at his hands, half expecting to see specks of blood on them.
    “Have you killed many men?”
    “So many I’ve lost count.” He shifted onto one hip, extending his splinted leg in front of him, and hooked an elbow over the back of the chair. “I don’t want to talk about that, Copper. It’s hard enough to think about … to live with. Talking about it …” He shook his head, mentally cowering from the images pressing on him. “I just can’t.” A sharp pain raced from one temple to the other. He winced and shut his eyes.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Headache. I get them now and then … the memories rise up and then my head starts pounding.”
    “You need to start making new memories. Ones that don’t hurt.” She stood up and came aroundbehind his chair. “I have healing hands, you know. Give me that aching head of yours, soldier man.” She flattened her hands on either side of his head and tilted his head to rest against her stomach. “What rank are you?”
    “Captain.”
    “So high up!”
    He smiled sardonically. “You kill enough men, you get to be captain.”
    “Shhh. Don’t think about spilled blood. Close your eyes.” She massaged his temples in slow circles and matched the cadence of her voice to the rhythm.
    “Ummm … nice,” he murmured.
    “I’ll tell you how I discovered the secrets in my hands. It was the week I began my first womanly flow. Smiling Moon, uncle of my Crow father, had a terrible stomachache. He ate snake that had poison still in it. My family tended to him and, oh, he was in pain. He rolled and moaned. Watching him, I felt my fingers tingle. The tingle spread to my palms and then my entire hands, then up to my elbows. My hands became hot. But I wasn’t scared. I knew … something inside told me that my hands could help Smiling Moon. So I went to him and lifted his shirt.” She laughed, recalling the hubbub. “My Crow father and mother thought I was touched in the head … that my flow had somehow drained my brains from me. But I went on with what my inner self told me to do. I placed my hands on Smiling Moon’s stomach—on his flesh—and he got real still. I rubbed him like I’m rubbing you.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, sensing Tucker’s total relaxation. “Soon, his moaning stopped. He said it felt like Father. Sun was pouring healing rays into his gut. By the time my hands cooled, Smiling Moon was no longer paining.”
    He opened his eyes. “Smiling Moon was right. Your hands are like the sun. It’s amazing. You’reamazing. How did you end up out here? You told me a little about it, but I don’t rightly recall …”
    “My people cast me out.”
    “Because?”
    She made a face. “Because they were afraid. Anything they don’t understand, they turn their faces from it.”
    “And they didn’t understand you?”
    “My husband died.”
    He nodded, waiting for her to embellish, but she didn’t. “They threw you out because he died? Not very charitable of them.”
    “Why are you so nosey?” She moved away from him to busy herself with clearing the table. “You must be feeling better to be so full of questions.”
    Tucker inched up in the chair. His headache was gone. He missed the sweet pressure of her fingers. “I’m just trying to get to know you a little. Didn’t mean to rile you.”
    She released a sigh of defeat. “Okay, I’ll tell you this much. I’m telling you because you should know, so you can be forewarned not to cross me, not to try anything with me.” She squared her shoulders and leveled her dark eyes on him. “I’m a witch.”
    A witch? Tucker pursed his lips to keep from smiling. Her gaze became a glare, and Tucker covered his grin with one hand. “I’m