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Authors: Charlotte Boyett-Compo

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“He’s my cousin three times down the ladder,” Keenan said. “My ma and pa was

three times cousins.”

“Well, outside Kentucky, people don’t generally marry their cousins—three times

removed or not,” Bolivar explained.

“Oh, I ain’t gonna marry Reggie!” she said with a laugh. “He’s like a brother to me,

you see?”

The door opened and Fallon came into the motor home. He looked none the worse

for wear as he walked nonchalantly over to the fridge, opened it and took out a soft

drink, popping the tab.

“You two getting acquainted?” he asked, taking a long swig of the beverage.

“Yes, we are. Tandy, would you like a soda?”

Keenan looked up shyly, glanced at Fallon then quickly looked away again. “You

mean a coh-cola, ma’am?”

Bolivar exchanged an amused smile with Fallon. “Yes, dear, that’s what I mean.”

“Yes’m, I wouldn’t mind somethin’ cold right along now. It sure be hot out there.”

Fallon arched a brow, and at Bolivar’s nod, brought two cans of pop over to the two

women. He opened both and handed one to Bolivar then leaned toward Keenan to

hand her the other. The moment the younger woman pressed back in the chair and her

hands came up defensively, he cursed beneath his breath and squatted on the floor in

front of her.

“Darling, let’s me and you get something straight right off the bat, okay?” he said,

both sodas in his hands. When she didn’t look at him but kept her chin tucked against

her chest, he craned his head down so he could see her face. “Will you look at me,

Tandy?”

Hesitantly, she lifted her head a little, met his eyes then looked away again.

“Sweetie, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said gently.

Once more her eyes met his, skipped away then came back. They held a bit longer

this time then leapt away again. Color rose in her pale cheeks.

“Not all men hit women, Tandy,” Bolivar said quietly. “Robbie has never hit a

woman in his life. Have you, Robbie?”

“Nope.”

Keenan lifted her chin a fraction of an inch, looked at the soft drink in his hand, and

when he extended it toward her this time, she took it, cupping both hands around the

cold aluminum can, bringing it to her chest as though it were a child.

“Thank you kindly, Mr. Robbie,” she said.

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“It’s just Robbie,” he told her then stood, took the chair beside her, stretched his

legs out and crossed his booted ankles. “Don’t let me interrupt you ladies.”

“How did you come to be doing the Lord’s work over there in Georgia, Tandy?”

Bolivar inquired.

“Nate, he heard tell you helped sick folk and the like, and he think to himself I

could do that too, so we lit out with Reggie and we starts doing the Lord’s work for

Him. I wouldn’t have knowed no better if’n he hadn’t recalled it to me.”

Fallon sipped his soda as Keenan went on with the same spiel he’d heard at the

Exchange. He marveled that her voice at first was hesitant, shy, but with each

encouragement from Bolivar, the narration became more detailed, had more animation,

so that by the time she was finished with the contrived tale of how she, her brother and

cousin had arrived in Georgia, she was relaxed yet excited.

“So’s you can see hit’s been handed down to me that I be one of the healing women

up to the Cove, but I come up the hard way, you see. There be people who think healing

women is…” She lowered her voice. “Witches and the like.” She shook head. “I ain’t no

setch thang. I be a good girl.”

“Well, it sounds to me as though you’ve had a tough time of it,” Bolivar

commented when the tale was done.

Keenan nodded. “Yes’m.” She wiped the bottom of the can on her sleeve to rid it of

the beads of moisture. “I was borned in the kentry and ain’t never been out o’ hit a’fore

now. Sometimes we’uns has had the awfullest times. Tar busted one of them times and

we’uns don’t got no spare. Didn’t have no extra money when we got to Augusta so we’s

slept in the car after paying them officials for the licenses and all.”

“In this heat?” Bolivar gasped.

“Yes’m. We’uns didn’t get no rest that night. We’uns was just wore teetotally

plumb out from that there heat.” She closed her eyes and smiled. “Ain’t used to this

here air conditioning.” She opened her eyes. “A body could get used to it though.”

As Bolivar continued to question Keenan, Fallon watched the woman he loved. As

Coim had said, she’d lost weight, but he’d bet a silver dollar she’d done so to better fit

the role she was playing instead of having been pining away for him. He looked down

at her scuffed shoes—the seams of which had popped loose along the big toe—and saw

that she was continuously scraping one foot over the other as a nervous adolescent girl

would do. He noticed the hem of her dress was frayed and even though he knew it was

a costume she was wearing, it hurt him for some inexplicable reason. He wanted her in

fine silks and rich satins and plush velvets and tailored corduroys. He wanted her in

designer clothing with the most sensual lingerie lovingly molding her body. He wanted

diamonds and pearls and links of gold on her slender neck and fingers and in her

earlobes.

“Robbie?”

He shook himself and forced his attention to Bolivar. “I’m sorry. What?”

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Dancing on the Wind

“Would you have Roland go into town and purchase a new motor home for Tandy?

Something really nice.”

“Ma’am, I can’t let you do that!” Keenan gasped. “That wouldn’t be right!”

“And tell him to find a used one for her brother and cousin since it seems they will

be joining us as well.”

“But, ma’am!” Keenan protested. “We got folks workin’ with us over in Georgia

and they got nowheres to go. We…”

“I’ll pay your brother for your tent and the equipment you have and whatever I can

use, I’ll just incorporate it with mine. Any of your people who would like to work for

me, I’ll gladly hire. How’s that?”

Keenan shook her head. “Ma’am, you’re a kindly passel of folks to share like this

and all, but this be moving too fast for the likes of me to catch a grasp of it. I don’t…”

She looked up as though sudden realization had hit her, fear stamped on her features.

“Nate, he takes care of the business ends of thangs. If’n he thought I was a’goin’ behind

his back…”

“You let us worry about your brother,” Bolivar said. “Isn’t that right, Robbie?”

Fallon uncrossed his legs and stood. “I’ll see to it,” he said. He moved toward the

door.

“And ask Johnny Mae to come see us,” Bolivar instructed. “She used to teach third

grade before she married Ollie. I’m sure she’ll be happy to teach Tandy better English.”

As he went out the door, he heard Bolivar telling Keenan about all the good things

that would be coming her way soon and he smiled.

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Chapter Sixteen

“So what do you think of her?” Bolivar asked as she and Fallon had a late lunch.

“Mousy little thing,” he said as he scored the slice of ham on his plate. “Afraid of

her own shadow.”

“I expect her brother is the cause of that.” Bolivar took a bite of bread. “Did you let

him know in no uncertain terms that if he dares raise a hand to her again, you’ll make

him wish he hadn’t?”

Fallon smiled. “I believe my exact words were if he did, I’d break that sucker off at

the root and shove it so far up his ass he’d be able to brush his teeth from the inside

out.”

Bolivar laughed. “Oh Robbie, I like that!” She scooped up a forkful of creamed

potatoes, still chuckling. “What other impression did you get from her?”

He shrugged. “Well, she could be almost pretty given the right clothes and a bit of

makeup,” he replied. “Right now she looks like a drowned rat with that godawful dress

and ratty hair.”

“I think she’s lovely,” Bolivar said. “She has perfect features. Her eyes are beautiful

and beneath that sack of a dress, I believe she has a striking little figure.”

“If you say so,” he said as though the subject didn’t interest him. “Oh, by the way, I

found out why they brought the cousin along.”

“And that is?”

He reached for his glass of iced tea, took a sip before answering. “When she uses

her so-called powers, she has a tendency to get nose and ear bleeds.”

That news had startled him when Matty had informed him. They had been in the

company of Roland and another ministry worker so he’d been unable to question Matty

as he’d needed to.

“She’s also collapsed into unconsciousness and on occasion has had violent

seizures.”

And that scared him even more. If any of it was true, he was not going to be a

happy camper when she used the powers Coim had bestowed on her.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Bolivar said, and Fallon was pleased the protective

instinct toward Keenan he had instilled in Bolivar had taken firm root. “So Quinn was

brought along to take care of her.”

“Yeah. Unlike that fucker of a brother of hers, he isn’t a bad sort, although I’ve got a

feeling he’s a bit too fond of the drink taken, as my grandma used to say.”

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Dancing on the Wind

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” She wiped her lips with her napkin. “What did the

brother say when you told him she had agreed to come work with us?”

Fallon snorted. “He didn’t like that he hadn’t been consulted and involved in the

discussion. According to him, he’s her manager and he’s also the one who interprets for

her.”

Bolivar’s eyebrows shot up. “She speaks in Tongues?”

Fallon nodded. “He says she does and he swears he’s the only one who can

interpret what she’s saying so he’s vital to the ministry.”

“This just keeps getting better and better,” she said. “I’ve been looking for someone

to pass the torch to and I believe I’ve found her in Tandy.”

“You’re thinking of retiring?”

“Well, I hadn’t been actively thinking about it until the last few days, but I’ve had

my eye out,” she said, unknowingly repeating the very words he’d implanted in her

mind. “Tandy just seems right to me.”

“You should know,” he said.

“I’m going to work with her while we’re here in Alabama, train her every day.

Johnny Mae will also be working with her. She can read and write but that’s about the

extent of her education.” She got up and started clearing the table of the dishes

although normally one of the girls in her employ did that. “I think by the time we get

over into Louisiana, she’ll be ready for her first revival. Until then, I’ll just have her

mingle in with the choir, keep a very low profile. That way she can see what’s going on

but she won’t be where the public will notice her.”

“As plain as she is, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” Fallon said.

Bolivar smiled in such a way he knew another of his sublims had dropped into

place.

* * * * *

For the next three weeks Fallon stayed as far away from Keenan as space would

allow. Whenever she was with Bolivar, he made himself scarce. He couldn’t be near her

without wanting to touch her, to hold her, to kiss her, and he was afraid he’d

accidentally give away his feelings. He ached to take her in his arms and make love to

her all night. Every time he saw her, his body clenched with desperate need and he

would push himself in whatever he was doing—taking to running five miles every day

in an effort to tire himself out so his cock wouldn’t flex every time he was within

eyesight of her. He lay awake at night so stiff he was in agony and had to take matters

in hand in order to get some rest. In the morning he was usually surly and gruff, but

since everyone accepted that kind of behavior from him, no one questioned it.

Thankfully, he saw little of Breslin who had fallen in with Roland as though they’d

been best buds all their lives. Keenan’s ex-partner-lover was insinuating himself in with

almost all the ministry workers who weren’t smart enough to know they were being

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

used. Those who suspected the brawny man had ulterior motives stayed clear of him.

One of them—a former circus roughneck named Sammy Pyle—seemed to have

developed an intense dislike of Breslin and the two had gone a few rounds before

Fallon stepped in to put a stop to it.

“He’s learning the ropes from Roland,” Bolivar had told Fallon. “Mizhak says he’s a

quick study.”

“He’s a born conman,” Fallon quipped. “It’s written all over his ugly ass face.”

“You really don’t like him, do you?”

“He’s a coward,” Fallon stated. “Any man who would hit a woman is nothing more

than that in my book.”

“You threatened to hit me,” she reminded him.

“I wouldn’t have,” he said then grinned nastily. “But you didn’t know that, did

you?”

Matty—as the self-appointed physician for the ministry—was making himself

useful in treating everyday injuries and suturing the occasional work-related wound.

Though he couldn’t prescribe medications because his license had been revoked, that

didn’t stop him from procuring drugs when they were needed.

“Don’t ask,” Fallon warned Bolivar. “If he gets caught, it’s his ass, not ours. We’ll

just say we didn’t know what he was up to, and since you didn’t hire him on as a

sawbones, no one can prove otherwise.”

BOOK: Dancing on the Wind
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