Dancing on the Wind (36 page)

hundreds of sparkling copper beads and the short cap sleeves were made of lace in the

same color as the gown. The effect of the light hitting the crystal beads was stunning.

“Show him your shoes, sweetie,” Bolivar told her.

Keenan flicked the hem of her skirt back so he could see the copper-colored leather

sandals embellished with crystal beads.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Keenan asked.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered, lost in the hazel depths of her eyes.

Bolivar stiffened then turned to give Keenan a gentle look. “Would you go back to

the bedroom and get my shawl?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Keenan replied.

As soon as she was gone, Bolivar shot out a hand and grabbed Fallon’s arm.

“Don’t even think about it,” she hissed.

Fallon blinked and his eyebrows drew together.
What was this?
he asked himself. He

had instilled strong sublims regarding Keenan and himself in Bolivar’s mind—sublims

that would make it possible for him to be with her without suspicion. Now those

sublims had been erased.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” he said.

“Hell yes, you do. You keep away from her, Robbie,” Bolivar said, jabbing a finger

into his chest. “She’s off limits to you.”

Trying to slip into Bolivar’s mind proved to be impossible. Something—or

someone—had countermanded his psychic suggestions. There were impenetrable

psychic roadblocks that had been erected in the few short days he’d been gone.

Roland’s smirking face crossed his mind and he silently cursed the gypsy bastard.

“Are we clear on this, Robbie?” Bolivar pressed.

“Is something wrong?” Keenan asked as she came back with Bolivar’s shawl.

“Nothing I can’t handle, sweetie,” Bolivar replied. She took the shawl and swung it

around her slender shoulders, adjusted the gold folds of her dress then smiled warmly

at Keenan. “Tonight’s your night and I’m not got to allow anything,” she glanced at

Fallon, “or anyone to spoil it for you.”

A light tapping at the door alerted Bolivar that the crowd was in the tent and it was

time for her to make her appearance.

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“All right,” the evangelist said. “It’s showtime!” She went to the door and waited

for Fallon to open it for her. “Thank you, Robbie.”

“I live to serve,” Fallon mumbled as he spied Roland standing just outside with the

bodyguards who would be escorting Bolivar into the tent.

“What’s wrong?” Keenan questioned as she joined Fallon at the door.

“Nothing, Miss Tandy,” he said, locking gazes with her. He couldn’t transmit an

explanation to her for Roland would intercept it. All he could do was give her a look he

hoped she would translate as a warning. He was relieved when she gave him a slight

nod then took the arm he proffered to her.

The crowd inside the tent went wild when they saw Bolivar, but there was also a

charged atmosphere as people took in the beautiful woman walking behind her being

escorted by the tall, grim-faced man in black.

“Who is she?” people were asking loud enough to be heard over the rollicking

choir.

Fallon felt Keenan’s hand clench on his arm and he laid his free hand over it for

encouragement. One look down at her and he could see a vein beating frantically in her

neck. She was terrified of this crowd—he could sense it like a cold rag slapped in his

face. His savage frown made those who had thought to reach out to touch her as she

passed think twice and move back. Once he had escorted her onto the stage and to the

smaller throne-like chair that sat beside Bolivar’s, he was being bombarded by her fear.

“My Brothers and Sisters!” Bolivar said as the music died down to a low, soothing

melody. “The good Lord has seen fit to send unto me a helpmate, an innocent child of

the Appalachians who has come to do His work among us. She has been graced with

the Laying on of Hands and gifted with Tongues.”

From out of the corner of his eye, Fallon saw Zack Breslin move toward the stage.

The agent was dressed in a dark gray silk suit that fit him to perfection—accentuating

his wide chest and lean flanks.

“You will be the first to witness the miracles that will come forth from this sweet

child’s hands. You will see firsthand the abilities our Lord and Savior in His wisdom

has sent down to cure your ills and cleanse your spirits. Join with me now in welcoming

to our fold Sister Tandy Lynch.”

Thunderous applause met Keenan as she left her chair and walked to where Bolivar

was standing. Fallon could see the panic rising in his lady’s eyes and the nervous way

she kept licking her lips. Her hands were clenched at her sides. She was trembling.

Bolivar slipped an arm around Keenan. “This sweet, beautiful young woman is

here to serve you, has given up her personal life into the service of our Lord, Jesus

Christ, opened her heart and arms to do His will. While I preach the sermon this night, I

ask that you silently pray for the success of Sister Tandy’s mission. Pray her task on this

earth will be done in accordance with His wishes.”

“Amen!” rang out among the crowd.

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Fallon stood off to one side and surveyed the crowd. Eager, hopeful eyes were

locked on Keenan. People were pointing at her. The uneasiness he had begun to feel

was increasing. His gaze shifted to Breslin who acknowledged his look with raised

eyebrows. Neither man could communicate here since Roland was only a few feet away

from the stage, standing beside Matty, who was staring intently at Fallon.

You feel it too, don’t you, Matty?
Fallon thought to himself. There was something

zinging through the air that was setting off warning signals, and all three men sensed it.

Bolivar’s sermon lasted longer than usual. To Fallon’s way of thinking, the older

woman was prolonging the part of the revival in which she turned over the reins to

Keenan. Lapping up every last bit of adoration she could squeeze from the crowd, she

finally turned to the choir and the members began to hum softly.

“If you are sick of body, of mind or spirit,” Bolivar said. “If illness has befallen you

and taken over your life, if pain and paralysis of limb has become a way of life for you,

then open your hearts and minds to the spirit of our Lord and invite Him to enter.”

“Amen,” the crowd said.

“Welcome Him with every fiber of your being and ask Him to heal you, Brothers

and Sisters. Get down on your knees and beseech Him to allow you to be made whole

once again.”

“Amen!”

“Praise the Lord!”

“Search deep in your hearts and confess your innermost sins to our Lord and ask

for His forgiveness. Only then can you hope to be made whole in body, mind and

spirit.”

“Amen, Mother! Amen!”

“Sister Tandy, come forward, child,” Bolivar said, stretching out a hand to Keenan.

Fallon saw Keenan swallow hard before she left her chair once more and came to

stand at Bolivar’s right side. She took the older woman’s hand.

“If you have made yourself known to my helpers, then let those who would seek

the Lord’s deliverance from the travails that have beset them now come forward,”

Bolivar said.

Those upon whose breasts the bright orange stickers had been placed stood and

began moving into the aisles to form a long, long line that extended all the way out the

doors of the tent. Even above the choir’s humming Fallon heard Keenan’s low whimper

of apprehension. Hating what this was doing to her, he watched as she stood there

quivering—unable to help her and knowing that was tearing him apart.

By the time the first of the faithful stood before her on the stage, Keenan was as pale

as a ghost.

“What is your ailment, Brother?” Mother Bolivar asked.

It was a woman standing behind the man who answered.

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“My boy lost his hearing when an oil rig he was working on exploded,” she said.

“That was four years ago.”

“Does he believe in the power of the Lord?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s a good Christian boy.”

“Does he believe the Lord will cure him?”

“Oh yes, ma’am!”

“Then have him kneel before Sister Tandy.”

The woman motioned her son to his knees and the young man moved quickly,

staring up at Tandy with a look that bordered on worship.

Her hand trembling violently, Keenan placed it upon the kneeling man’s head.

Almost immediately the man jerked, flung his arms out, and Fallon realized he was

one of Bolivar’s men—a shill planted there to motivate those who came after.

“Lord, heal this poor man!” Bolivar cried out, lifting her arms to the heavens. “Heal

him and make him whole!”

Keenan seemed to hesitate then placed her other hand on the man’s head. When he

jerked again, her eyes widened and she pulled her hands back as he shot to his feet.

“I can hear!” he shouted. “I can hear the choir!”

“Praise the Lord!”

The crowd cheered and Fallon felt his heart pounding brutally in his chest. He was

staring at Keenan’s frightened face as the next person—another shill—knelt at her feet.

“And what ails you, Sister?” Bolivar asked the woman.

“It’s my left hand,” the woman said of the limb that hung limply at her side. “I had

a stroke and can’t lift it.”

“Kneel, Sister, and let the power of the Lord work through Sister Tandy,” Bolivar

said.

It was no surprise that as soon as Keenan touched the woman she was cured,

raising her supposedly lifeless arm in praise to God. This time the crowd went wild and

those in line pushed forward, eager to know the touch of the angel whose eyes were

bright with unshed tears.

“I don’t like this.”

Fallon turned to find Matty standing beside him.

“Yeah, well, neither do I,” Fallon said.

“She’s scared half to death up there,” Matty complained.

Fallon didn’t need to be told. He could see the terror stamped on Keenan’s face, the

tremor in her hand each time she touched a new person.

“That one isn’t one of ours,” Matty said of the next faithful to kneel at Keenan’s feet.

“I noticed him on the way over here. He’s got some kind of rash all over his body. Just

the idea of her touching him…” He shuddered.

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And then something strange happened that silenced every man, woman and child

in the tent. Sister Tandy placed her hands on the man’s head. Her head went back, her

throat arched. A strangled cry came from her parted lips and she stiffened as though

struck by lightning. From her lips came words from a language no one understood—

not even Breslin, who was frowning sharply as he gaped up at her.

“I don’t think those are words they rehearsed,” Matty muttered to Fallon. “Zack

looks like he’s been poleaxed.”

Complete silence filled the tent as Keenan’s voice rang out over the crowd. The man

touched by her hands moaned, shook and then pitched to one side, crumpling to the

floor.

“Look at him!” a woman sitting in the front row shouted. “She cured him. The

disease is leaving his body!”

People shot to their feet and craned their necks to see. Those close by gasped as they

watched the redness fading from the man’s face, neck and arms.

Fallon and Matty moved closer so they could see, coming to stand by Breslin.

“What’s she saying?” Bolivar asked from above them.

Breslin looked up at her. “She’s calling down the power of the Lord to heal him,” he

lied.

“Oh my God,” Matty whispered, and sprang up onto the stage. He barely made it

to Keenan’s side before she began to fall. He caught her as both Fallon and Breslin

vaulted onto the stage.

Fallon stared down at the woman he loved and felt cold dread shoot him. There

was a slight trickle of blood coming from her left ear as she lay in Matty’s arms. Her

eyes were glazed and she was so pale she looked like a ghost.

“Did I cure him?” she asked, her voice weak.

“Yes,” Bolivar said. She was looking down at the man who was sitting up, staring at

his arms. “Yes, Tandy, you did.” There was awe in her voice for she knew the man

wasn’t one of hers.

“Then help me up,” Keenan said. When Matty would have prevented her from

doing so, she leveled her gaze on him. “Help me up.”

Fallon wanted to deny her as he knew Matty did, but he saw determination

stamped on her lovely face. Whatever she was feeling now, it was no longer fear and

there was a radiance about her that was pushing aside the paleness.

“I think you should go lie down,” Matty said. “You’ve…”

“I’ve work to do,” Keenan said, pushing against his chest. “Now help me up.”

Reluctantly Matty drew her to her feet and stepped back, shooting Fallon a

beseeching look to which Fallon slightly shook his head. There was nothing either of

them could do at that moment. Even Breslin seemed stunned by the turn of events.

“Come forward,” he heard Keenan tell the next person in line. She held out her

hand. “How may I help you, my friend?”

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Fallon blinked. The voice coming from Keenan’s mouth was different, stronger and

shaded with a light accent he couldn’t place.

“Get off the stage,” Bolivar hissed to Fallon and Matty. “Now!”

Though both men were loath to do so, they complied, jumping down to stand