The Highwayman by Catherine Reynolds Page B

shall tell you that, indeed, they are.” In a more sober voice, he added, “But I can also attest to the fact that they are among the most noble and admirable people who ever walked this earth.”
    “How strange that they should be both,” said Jane with wonder.  “But what I started to ask about is their knowledge of herbs and medicine. I have heard that their experience with such things is considerable. Did you meet any of them? You must have done, since you seem to know so much about them.”
    “I did,” he told her. “As a matter of fact, I lived for several months with a band of the Sioux. That is the name given them by the Americans and the French, but they call themselves the Dah-ko-tas.”
    “Good God!” she exclaimed. “Were you captured?”
    “No. Had I been, it is unlikely that I would be here to tell the tale. As it happened, I was in a position to do a service for the chief’s son. Little Fox had been wounded by some American cavalry who were chasing him, and I was able to hide him until the danger had passed.” He shrugged and added, “The chief was so grateful that he adopted me into the tribe.”
    “Oh, my,” she breathed. “I should love to hear all about your time with them. But first tell me, please, about their healing practices.”
    “I shall be happy to tell you what little I know, but I fear it is not much. Healing among the Indians is done by medicine men—or in some cases, medicine women—who guard their secrets most jealously. But you must first answer a question for me. How in the world did you become so interested in herbs and healing?”
    “Oh, there is no mystery to that. Even as a young girl, before my mother—that is, before I lost my mother, I used to visit our tenants and try to help them when they were old or in need. I always felt so helpless, though, in the face of illness, until the vicar gave me a book on healing, and it has fascinated me ever since. But now, if you please, do not keep me in suspense any longer.”
    Pride and Prejudice was forgotten as Jon told Jane all he knew of herbal healing among the Indians. Although it was something of a disappointment to her that he could not give her the English names for many of the herbs used by the natives of America, she did not really mind. What he did tell her was so very interesting that she lost all track of time.
    At last, however, her gaze fell upon the mantel clock, and she jumped up, saying, “Oh, good heavens! I shall be late for my meeting with Mr. Phillips, my estate agent. I must go at once.”
    He grasped her hand before she could turn away, and said, “Come back to me when you are done.”
    She looked down at her hand, which had never looked so dainty and feminine as it now did, clasped in his own larger, stronger one. She swallowed before saying doubtfully, “I don’t know. I have already spent hours with you, and...” Her voice trailed off.
    “But there is so much more I wish to tell you about my life with the Indians. For instance, there are their courtship and marriage customs, which I know will fascinate you.”
    Heat rose in her cheeks, but she gave him an indulgent smile as she said accusingly, “I believe you delight in making me blush, sir.”
    “I do,” he admitted, “for it is vastly becoming to you.”
    “I must go,” she said again, attempting to pull her hand free.
    He retained it, saying, “I’ll not let you leave until I have your promise to return. You cannot know what a dead bore it is to lie here with none but my own company.”
    “Well,” she conceded, “perhaps later, after dinner. But you must promise not to put me to the blush with your stories.”
    He grinned. “You make it very difficult for me, my dear, but I shall do my best.”
    Daringly, Jane cocked an eyebrow at him and asked, “Your best to make me blush, or to refrain from doing so?”
    “You are too clever by half, sweetheart,” he answered.
    Jane quickly left the room to the sound of his laughter. But