Banner O'Brien by Linda Lael Miller Page A

her outraged pride couldnot have coerced her to leave the questionable safety of Dr. Corbin’s side. “May I say that I find the idea of being your wife just as reprehensible as you do?” she responded with biting dignity.
    Adam chuckled and shook his head and immediately became embroiled in an incomprehensible exchange with the Indian—Banner now remembered him as the man who had driven away the children that were tormenting the small Chinaman in Port Hastings—and she found herself wishing that she understood Chinook rather than just its history.
    To distract herself, Banner looked upon the children, many of whom were nearly naked in that bitter cold, and shivered. As they were propelled toward the center of the village in a red swell of humanity, she ventured, “How do they bear going almost without clothing in this weather?”
    “They’ve had centuries of practice,” responded Adam. “And if you can’t speak decent Chinook, kindly keep your very lovely mouth shut. It is impolite to converse in a language your hosts do not understand.”
    “You did.”
    “When?”
    “Just a moment ago. You said ‘God forbid’ and the man understood!”
    “He doesn’t know the half of it. Be quiet, Shamrock, or I’ll trade you for two goats and a berry basket.”
    Banner blushed and bit her lower lip, temporarily defeated.
    As they approached the doorway of one of the lodges, which had only a bearskin curtain to keep out the cold wind, a younger man approached, authoritative in his buckskins and braids, and spoke to Adam in swift, quelling Chinook.
    Adam listened soberly and answered in kind. Again the word for “wife” was mentioned, again Adam vigorously denied the assertion.
    The Indian gave Banner a speculative look, his dark eyes lingering long at her fiery hair, and spoke again.
    Adam turned to her and grinned. “I’ve just been offered four dried salmon and a cedar canoe for you,” he said. “What’s your counter offer?”
    Banner reddened and drew nearer to Adam, even though she was certain, now, that she hated him. “I beg your pardon?”
    “What will you give me to keep you?”
    “Bastard,” replied Banner.
    Battling to suppress his amusement, Adam turned his blue gaze back to the Indian and spoke words of apologetic tone.
    The brave looked disappointed and stomped away.
    But the other tribesmen were eager to talk with Adam, and they drew him inside the lodge, leaving Banner to stand, befuddled, among the women.
    Quickly enough they surrounded her, touching her clothes, smiling gapped smiles, showing her the baskets of which they were justifiably proud.
    Banner felt herself warming to them for, after all, they were Jenny’s people and their culture was an ancient one, deserving of respect.
    After a time, though, Banner began to grow impatient. There was much laughter, inside the log walls of the lodge, and Adam did not come out.
    Why were they here, if not to treat patients?
    Her medical bag heavy in one hand, Banner wandered toward a stone hut near the water. “What’s this?”
    Several of the women offered answers, but only one was in English.
    “My people use to drive out sickness—bad tamanous” offered an older woman who wore an outsized brown sateen dress and a patched paisley shawl.
    The tamanous again. Banner shivered and went to the hut’s arched doorway to peer inside.
    The voice at her side startled her. “They heat stonesand drop them into cold water inside the hut,” Adam said. “And when the patient has been properly cooked by the steam, they carry him down to the shore and drop him into the sound.”
    Banner was horrified, though she did feel a measure of relief that Adam was no longer secreted away in that masculine stronghold, the lodge. “Saints in heaven!”
    Adam looked at the hut as though he’d like to tear it apart, stone by heavy, rounded stone. “They rarely use it unless there’s an outbreak of smallpox. Shall we go, Shamrock?”
    The idea was appealing, even