Read Online Beauty and the Brain by Alice Duncan - Free Book Online Page B

experienced
anything but respect and friendship from Martin Tafft. And she had
to admit that he’d never treated her any worse than a man—or any
better, for that matter, which was almost more of a test of a
person’s basic integrity than the other way around. She appreciated
people who considered women equal to men.
    They weren’t, though. Women were infinitely
superior to men, if only because they had to battle so hard to
achieve the same rewards that were handed out to men as a matter of
course. She never brought the subject up because she knew it would
be ridiculed, and she’d be considered an oddball.
    She didn’t need a charge of eccentricity to
be lodged against her at this point in her life. Maybe when she
retired, she could recline in her huge house amid her immense
wealth and enormous library and make snide and cynical comments
about how, the world worked. But at this point she needed the world
and all of its imperfections, because they worked to her
advantage.
    Colin was already standing beside the
trucks, scowling at the Indian men who were disembarking when she
and Martin arrived. Because she was still annoyed with Colin, both
for snubbing her last night and for perhaps being a man who
preferred men to women, she walked over and stood next to him.
    Brenda was surprised to see that all the
men, whose dark skins, broad faces, and black hair clearly
proclaimed their race, were clad in trousers and shirts and
jackets, just like everybody else. She didn’t know what she’d
expected. Something more native, she guessed, although she knew it
was silly of her to be disappointed. Had she anticipated breach
clouts? Tomahawks? Feather and war paint? Silly Brenda.
    Colin still looked pained. Brenda, feeling
none too gently disposed toward him this afternoon, said, “What’s
wrong, Colin? Don’t you care for this particular breed of
Indian?”
    He frowned down at her. “Don’t be
ridiculous.”
    Peeved, she said “Okay.” Then she gave him
one of her most charming smiles and was glad when he blushed.
    She was interested to note that three of the
men getting out of the trucks carried baseball bats. Another one
carried a baseball. When he stepped onto the dirt of the lodge’s
yard, he started tossing the ball into the air and catching it
casually. All of the men appeared ill at ease. They eyed the white
folks standing around as if they expected to be shot at. Brenda’s
heart went soft. She didn’t blame them for being wary; as a
culture, these people had been through hell.
    Because she couldn’t tolerate the gaping
social divide that seemed to widen between the two groups as they
stood there and eyed each other, she made the first move.
    “It’s so good of you to come help us with
this picture,” she said suddenly, and stepped across the invisible
line separating them. Having studied human nature for years and
years, she had detected at once the leader of this particular
grouping: the man tossing the baseball. She walked up to him and
stuck out her hand.
    He stared at her hand, his face completely
expressionless. He did stop tossing the ball, which Brenda
appreciated. She decided that her best recourse in this awkward
circumstance was her outgoing nature and the truth. “I’m sure
you’ve never been in a situation like this before, so it’s all
strange. And I haven’t, either, really. But I’m very glad to be
working with you. Won’t you shake hands?”
    After another moment or two—the time seemed
interminable to her—the Indian stuffed the ball into his pocket,
wiped his hand on his trousers, and shook her hand. “Uh, sure.”
    A probably unreasonable feeling of
accomplishment rushed through her. Her smile broadened. “I’m Brenda
Fitzpatrick. I’ll be the lady you guys capture and carry off.”
Because she wanted to make this man feel at ease and sensed that
accusing him or members of his group of indiscriminate kidnapping
wasn’t the way to do it, she added hastily, “Although I know