Dancing on the Wind (29 page)

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consciousness. Fallon glanced down at him and kept walking, heading for the bedroom

and the clothing Bolivar had laid out for him to wear.

* * * * *

Keenan patted a handkerchief across her forehead. It was swelteringly hot now that

the hurricane had blown itself. The old-fashioned, outdated calico dress she was

wearing fell midway down her calves and allowed very little cooling air to reach her

legs. With the long sleeves buttoned tight at the wrist and the high collar, she was

roasting and feeling as confined as if she were wearing a steel corset beneath the loose,

unflattering garment.

Breslin—with his threadbare wool suit, wide sixties-era loud tie and scuffed

boots—wasn’t faring much better. His face was slick with sweat, his cheeks red from

the oppressive heat, and he was fanning his straw Panama fedora in an attempt to get

some relief. He mopped his own handkerchief down his chin and neck.

“Goddamn it’s hot,” he complained as he watched the Exchange personnel as they

set up the shoddy tent that would be Tandy’s stage.

“You don’t miss having air conditioning in a car until you don’t have it, do you?”

Keenan asked as she glanced at the 1963 coupe with its severe case of body cancer and

dirty wide whitewall tires. “Having a radio in that thing would have made the trip at

least bearable.”

Breslin laughed. “Yeah, it would have, but at least we had some interesting

conversations.”

Matty Groves—who had been ordered by the Supervisor to join in on this leg of the

operation—came ambling up. He looked just as uncomfortable as Keenan and Breslin

with his short-sleeve white shirt stained under the arms and his clip-on bow tie cocked

at an angle at his neck.

“I am really beginning to regret being chosen for this assignment,” he stated.

“I still don’t know why the Supervisor thought we needed you,” Breslin

complained.

Keenan knew for Matty and she had been called in for a secret meeting with the

Supervisor. What they had learned had been sobering, scary, and Matty was now

giving Keenan surreptitious looks that made her uneasy.

“I guess that will manifest itself to you in due time,” Matty said. It was obvious he

didn’t like Breslin and the feeling appeared to be mutual. “If he’d wanted you to know,

he’d have told you.”

“Don’t wax smart with me, Groves,” Breslin snapped.

“Quinn,” Keenan corrected. “His name is Dr. Regis Quinn, our third cousin from

the Cove.”

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“Yeah,
Nate
,” Matty said, stressing Breslin’s undercover name. “I’m the one in the

family who went to the big city and studied medicine, made something of myself.

Remember?”

“And you lost your fucking license because you were an incompetent alcoholic with

an addiction for gambling,” Breslin grated. “I know the scenario, asswipe.”

“Zack, please stop,” Keenan said. “This isn’t a game.”

“Don’t think for a minute I don’t know what you’re up to, Reggie,” Breslin hissed.

“That makes two of us,” Matty threw back at him.

“Gentlemen,” Keenan said with exasperation. “This isn’t helping. We…”

“Truck coming,” one of the Exchange workers called out to them.

“An expensive truck,” Breslin observed as the three of them turned to look at the

bright red truck headed toward them. “And lookee at the emblem on the door.”

“Mother Bolivar’s Mission,” Matty read. “Well now, ain’t that right neighborly of

them to come calling?”

“Into character, people. It’s showtime,” Breslin said unnecessarily, and Keenan saw

Matty stick out his tongue behind the agent’s back.

* * * * *

“Oh my God, will you look at that piece of shit clunker?” Bolivar quipped as the

rusted-out blue and white coupe pulled up before her motor home. “Talk about

yokels!”

Fallon was sitting on the steps of the trailer, leaning back on his elbows. His heart

was thudding wildly in his chest. It had been nearly three weeks since he’d last seen

Keenan, and though he couldn’t see her clearly through the dirty windshield of the car,

he could feel her presence as sharply as the air he was breathing. He wished with all his

being he could communicate with her but Roland was standing only a few feet away.

Fallon knew Coim would have warned Keenan about the man so he couldn’t expect her

to send him a mental message either.

Breslin got out of the car first, pushing open the driver’s door that squealed loudly.

“Lord, help us,” Bolivar muttered under her breath, and rolled her eyes.

“Be nice,” Fallon told her. He was surprised to see Matty exit the car next from the

backseat. His gaze locked with the physician’s and he saw Matty shrug slightly.

“Mother Bolivar!” Breslin said, hurrying forward with his hand outstretched.

“What an honor! What a real honor!”

Bolivar flinched as her hand was engulfed in the tall man’s and squeezed firmly.

Her upper body shook as he enthusiastically pumped her hand up and down.

“A real honor!” Breslin said again, his face eager, eyes open wide. “I am tickled you

sent your man to see me!”

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“This is Nathan Lynch, Mother,” Ollie introduced. “And his sister Tandy. The other

gentleman there is their cousin Dr. Quinn.”

“Dr. Quinn, medicine man?” Fallon questioned with a quirk of his lips. He made no

effort to get up, barely glanced at Breslin and completely ignored Keenan.

“That would be me,” Matty said, stepping forward to shoot out a hand, jabbing it

right at Fallon who had no choice but to sit up and take it.

“This is my head of security, Robin Marks,” Bolivar offered.

“And do you?” Matty inquired.

Fallon’s eyes narrowed. “Do I what?” he asked as Matty kept possession of his

hand.

“Go about robbing marks?”

“Let go,” Fallon growled, wresting his hand from Matty’s grip.

“Reggie thinks he’s one of them comedians you see on the television,” Breslin said.

“He’s right clownful that’s a fact.” He shot Matty a warning look.

Bolivar took a step toward Keenan and held out her hand. “Hello, Tandy.”

Keenan bobbed a curtsy. “How do, ma’am,” she said, and looked to Breslin. At his

nod, she shyly took Bolivar’s hand limply in hers.

“I’m told you have been graced with the gift of the Laying on of Hands,” Bolivar

said gently.

“Mark 16:18 says, ‘Lay your hands on the sick and they shall be healed’,” Breslin

quoted. “That’s what she does. She touches them sick folk and they get well. The Lord

has been good to us, praise Jesus.”

“I’m sure,” Bolivar mumbled, refusing to look at the man. Her gaze was on Keenan.

“Where are you from, Tandy?”

“I’m from Regis Cove,” Breslin answered. “Up Kentuck way, in the mountains.” He

laughed. “Reggie here was named after our birthplace.”

Fallon braced his elbows on his knees, threaded his fingers together and stared at

Breslin although every fiber in his body was aware of Keenan standing not more than

three feet away.

“How long have you been healing people, Tandy?” Bolivar asked.

“She started when she was about ten, as I recall,” Breslin interrupted again. “There

was a cave-in up to one of the mines, and when they brought them miners out, most

was dead or a’dying. Tandy went over to one who hailed from the Cove and put her

hands on him and he made it through just like that!” He snapped his fingers. “I realized

she had been given the Gift and knew I had to share it with the world one day.”

Bolivar reached out to take Keenan’s hand and was stunned when Keenan jerked

away, putting up an arm as though she expected to be hit. Everyone except Breslin,

Matty and Fallon gasped.

“Honey, I’m not going to hurt you,” Bolivar said, looking to Fallon for help.

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“Oh, she ain’t always right in the head,” Breslin said in a hard voice, his face

suddenly turning red. It was obvious the agent had his obnoxious persona down pat,

and when he lurched toward Keenan to grab her, Fallon shot between them, moving so

fast he was little more than a blur, coming chest to chest with the other man.

“Back off,” Fallon said.

“Now you look here, mister…” Breslin said, anger making his eyes glitter.

Fallon brought up a hand and shoved Breslin. “I said back off.”

“Tandy, honey, come with me,” Bolivar said, holding out her hand.

Watching Keenan from the corner of his eye, Fallon saw she was making herself

tremble violently and her fingers were twisting in the skirt of her shapeless gown. He

had to dig his fingernails into his palms to keep from grinning at her frightened

appearance.

“Look here now, Mother Bolivar,” Breslin said, “I didn’t come here to be treated

disrespectful by one of your hired guns. I thought I was here to talk about joining my

revival with yourn.”

“Your revival?” Fallon questioned sarcastically. He moved so he was standing

almost nose to nose with Breslin, glaring into the other man’s face. “You a healer too or

just a loud-mouth prick who likes to beat on women?”

“Get outta my face, bubba, or I’m gonna…” Breslin snapped, made the mistake of

shoving Fallon back, and before anyone could react, took a roundhouse swing at his

opponent. Fallon ducked then drove a meaty fist into Breslin’s gut, knocking the air out

of him and sending him staggering back to land on his ass in the dirt.

“Tandy, come in the trailer. Now!” Bolivar said in a firm voice. She slipped her arm

around Keenan to lead her.

Keenan stumbled along in Bolivar’s wake, tossing fearful glances at her “brother”

as he scrambled to get to his feet.

“Don’t let ’em fight, ma’am,” she pleaded. “Don’t want to be no cause for Nate

shedding that gentleman’s blood.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Bolivar said with a satisfied grin.

“But ye don’t want ’em to fight fist to skull, ma’am. Ain’t Christian and Nate be a

ornery one when hit comes to fightin’. He don’t do it fair-like,” Keenan protested as

Bolivar opened the motor home door and pushed her gently inside.

“You let Robbie take care of your brother, Tandy,” Bolivar said, closing the door

behind them. “Why don’t you take a seat and let’s get acquainted.”

Keenan had both hands buried in the skirt of her dress and was looking about her

as though she expected bogeymen to jump out at her at any moment.

“Go on, sit,” Bolivar insisted, and took a seat on the sofa.

“But, ma’am…”

“Honey, sit. That’s man stuff out there. In here, we’re ladies.”

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Keenan hesitated a few beats. Letting go of her skirt long enough to brush the back

of it several times as though she didn’t want to soil the upholstery, she eased down into

one of the overstuffed chairs sitting at angles to the sofa. Her lips parted.

“Lordy be!” she said. “Hit’s like sittin’ on a toadie stool!” She wiped her hand on

her skirt then ran it along the velvet arm of the chair as though in wonder.

“You don’t have soft chairs where you live, Tandy?” Bolivar questioned.

“No, ma’am,” Keenan said in an awed, hushed voice. “T’weren’t nothin’ nowhere

as nice as this here cheer.”

Bolivar winced at the mountain twang and vocabulary. “I see we will need to get

you a language instructor,” she observed.

Keenan blushed. “Beggin’ yer pardon, but I allow how I don’t talk too good,

ma’am. I dint get me much ed’cation like Nate and Reggie done.”

“I don’t speak well,” Bolivar corrected.

“Oh no’m! You speak real good, ma’am.”

“I mean the correct English for what you said is I don’t speak well,” Bolivar told

her, smiling encouragingly.

Keenan’s lips quivered as though she were trying to answer the smile then she took

a deep breath. “I don’t speak well,” she repeated.

Bolivar clapped soundlessly. “Now tell me all about you. How old are you,

Tandy?”

“I be…”

“I am,” Bolivar cut in.

Keenan nodded emphatically. “I am twenty and nine.”

“Just twenty-nine.”

“Oh,” Keenan said brightly. “I am just twenty-nine.”

Bolivar laughed. “You are a breath of fresh air, Tandy. You truly are.”

Keenan ducked her head, blushing beneath the compliment.

“Do you have a boyfriend back in Regis Cove?”

Keenan drew her shoulders up as though she were a turtle trying to hide its head

and didn’t look up as she spoke.

“No’m,” she said. “Me, I was just a little bit choicey when it come to them boys

what was a’tryin’ to court me.” Her hands went to her lap and tangled themselves in

her skirt again. “I knowed all the families in the kentry and all their chillen. Most of

them I be kin to, you see? Them what I weren’t kin to didn’t interest me none ’cause

they was rough types and all.” One shoulder rose higher than the other. “I wanted to

pick me out the handsomest boy in the Cove, but he got took by my friend Anise and

the only other one he went and left to jine the Army.”

“So you’ve never dated?” Bolivar asked.

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Keenan shook her head. “No’m unless you count the times Reggie took me to the

pitcher show since we left the Cove.”

“Reggie’s your cousin though, so that wouldn’t be a date.”