Embrace the Wild Land (18 page)

“Boil some water, Abbie-girl,” he told her. “Let’s make our son well and go home. Ole Dooley must be wondering what has happened to us. I hope Comanches haven’t come and stolen the horses from the ranch.”

Seven days later Wolf’s Blood emerged from the shaman’s
tipi
, walking on his own two feet. His right thigh was heavily bandaged, and he limped slightly, but he refused to use a cane, and he insisted that he would ride his own mount when they departed. After all, he was a
man now. He would not lie on a travois like a woman. He wore a necklace of wolf’s claws around his neck, a gift from the shaman for his courage. In his hair he wore two eagle feathers, given him by Swift Arrow, and at his waist was strapped a new knife from Zeke, one Zeke had secretly bought at Bent’s Fort as a gift for his son at the Sun Dance sacrifice. It had a beautifully carved horn handle, with a tempered steel blade that was razor sharp. The knife was fifteen inches long from tip to the end of the handle. It was called a bowie knife, and it was the boy’s most prized possession, the finest knife he had ever set eyes on. It rested in a leather sheath, beautifully beaded in brilliant colors, the handiwork of his mother.

His little brother, Jason, grinned at the sight of his big warrior brother and ran in circles around him on chubby legs and feet, sometimes falling, but giggling when he did so. Thirteen-year-old Margaret, to whom Wolf’s Blood was the closest, walked up and hugged him, and nine-year-old Jeremy just stared in awe. Jeremy had never liked the things Wolf’s Blood liked. He only rode a horse because it was necessary. By the age of nine, Wolf’s Blood had been much bigger than Jeremy, and already knew how to use a bow and lance. But Jeremy didn’t like weapons and still hated the noise of a rifle. He was not wild and aggressive like his brother. He preferred to sit quietly by himself and learn his letters, or listen to his mother tell him a story. He didn’t hate Wolf’s Blood. He simply knew already in his young heart that he would never be like this older brother of his. He admired Wolf’s Blood, but he had no true desire to be like him, and in that respect he always feared the father that he loved would somehow love him less.

Zeke caught the way Jeremy watched Wolf’s Blood, and he immediately walked over to the boy and
whisked him up to his shoulders. “Each man proves himself in his own way, Jeremy-boy,” he told the child as he carried him to his horse. He plopped him onto the animal’s back. “Your day will come, Jeremy,” he reassured the boy. “You will prove yourself in your own way. Be proud of your brother, but don’t think you must be just like him. Be yourself, Jeremy.”

The boy grinned as Zeke left him, a man and a son worlds apart. But the love was there.

Zeke loaded up the rest of his children, taking Lillian with him this time so that Wolf’s Blood could ride alone. Most of the hundreds of others who had gathered for the celebrations had already left the camp, heading back to Arkansas River country in southeast Colorado Territory, a few going north to join the Northern Cheyenne and the Sioux, and all wondering if they would find enough freedom the next summer to gather for another celebration, none aware yet that in Minnesota, two hundred whites had been massacred by the Sioux and the entire frontier was in a panic, with governors of western territories screaming for Washington to send out more troops to obliterate the red man from the plains and prairies. But there were no troops to send, for the best men were involved in a bloody civil war, and there was nothing left to do but form a western army from volunteers—people who were already Indian-haters. And the cry in the wind and the groan in the land seemed to be getting louder with each passing winter.

But for the moment, those things did not matter. Wolf’s Blood was healing. He would not lose his leg or his life. Zeke mounted up and rode up to Swift Arrow, who sat on his mount several feet from the rest of the family, a man who hated emotional partings.

“Thank you, my brother,” Zeke told him.

Swift Arrow glanced over at Abbie, who was hugging
and talking to little Jason. “Thank your woman, not me,” he replied, returning his gaze to Zeke. “Tell her goodbye for me. I go now. Always, because of her kind heart, she cries when I leave. I do not wish to see the tears.”

Zeke nodded and reached out to grasp his brother’s wrist. “I understand, Swift Arrow.”

The man nodded. “Watch her closely, Zeke. The people grow restless. Bad times are coming, and the day may come when even the ones like Abbie are no longer trusted. The wind weeps, my brother.”

Zeke nodded. “May the spirits ride with you, Swift Arrow, and save you in battle. I will worry about you.”

The man just grinned. “Do not worry about Swift Arrow.” He frowned. “And where is your white brother, the one called Danny? He was a good soldier, a friend. The people trusted him. I no longer see him at Fort Laramie.”

Zeke sighed. “Danny left the Union army to go back to Tennessee. He joined the graycoats in the Civil War.”

Swift Arrow looked confused. “I do not understand that white man’s war.”

Zeke sighed. “Not many of us do. But it’s one I intend to stay out of. I just wish I knew what has happened to Danny. There hasn’t been any word.”

“I hope that some day he will return to our country. He was the only soldier that I trusted.”

Zeke picked up his horse’s reins. “I have a feeling he’ll be back, Swift Arrow.”

Swift Arrow moved his mount away a little. “I go now. I have had many long talks with Wolf’s Blood and said my farewells. Keep the wind at your back, my brother, and your face to the sun. You will always be
Kehilan
, drinker of the wind. And so will Wolf’s Blood.”

He turned his horse and rode off at a gallop. Abbie turned her mount and called after him, but he kept riding. She watched him for a moment, realizing without being told why he had left so quickly. Zeke rode up close to her and said, “Let’s go home, Abbie-girl.”

She studied the handsome face, the high cheekbones and dark eyes. This was Lone Eagle. She had her man back again, the man she had fallen in love with the moment she first set eyes on him. For a moment she saw him as she had seen him when he stepped into the light of her father’s campfire to volunteer his services as a scout. His provocative power seemed to fill the night air, and that same power still emanated from his very being. He had not changed. The wind blew the dark hair over the shoulders of his buckskin shirt, and the fringes danced at his broad shoulders. He seemed unusually handsome this day, beads and feathers entwined in thin braids that mixed in with the rest of his hair, a turquoise stone at his throat, in the center of a bone necklace that he wore, the lines of his face and even the scar on his cheek and chin only adding to his handsomeness.

He tore his eyes from hers and rode ahead, little Lillian clinging to his waist.

Abbie’s heart pounded with joy as they crested the hill and looked down on the little cabin below. Everything looked peaceful. The Appaloosas grazed lazily in the tall grass of the north field, and Dooley was waving, having spotted them from below. The faithful ranch hand and Zeke’s good white friend urged his own horse into a gallop and called out a hello as he rode up toward them. Abbie noticed as she rode more to the left and got a better view of the cabin that a carriage sat outside, as well as three horses she had not seen before. She turned to Zeke.

“Zeke, someone is at the house. I don’t recognize the horses.”

He frowned and rode over to look, then urged his horse toward Dooley, who was approaching the top of the hill by then.

“Zeke!” he called out. “What happened? I expected you a good ten days ago.”

“Wolf’s Blood developed an infection. He had a bad time of it, but he’s all right now.”

Dooley glanced at the young man. “You came through the ritual just fine, I’ll bet, didn’t you, boy?”

The boy nodded. “I did not cry out. And look at this!” He held up the bowie knife. “From my father.”

Dooley grinned. “You learn to use that like your father, and you’ll not have to worry about your enemies, Wolf’s Blood.”

The boy grinned.

“Dooley,” Zeke interrupted, “what is that carriage doing below?”

The man’s smile faded as he faced Zeke again. He moved his eyes to Abbie, then back to Zeke. “Your sister-in-law is here, Zeke. Danny’s wife. Emily.”

Abbie and Zeke looked at each other in surprise. They had never even met the woman.

“Why on earth did she come here?” Abbie asked.

Dooley sighed. “You’ll have to get the whole story from her. All I know is she said she’d wait it out here until you folks got back. Says Danny needs help and Zeke here is the only one who can help him.”

Abbie’s heart sank. “Oh, my God,” she whispered, meeting Zeke’s eyes. “I knew it! I thought … perhaps I was wrong … about you leaving again.”

He reached out and grasped her shoulder. “We don’t know yet for sure what she wants, Abbie-girl. Don’t jump to conclusions.” He squeezed her shoulder then let go and rode forward, but Abbie watched him as
though he were riding right out of her life.

“Zeke,” she whispered. She felt fate grasping at her again, their destiny being guided by elements that could not be controlled. She urged her horse forward to meet Danny Monroe’s wife.

Thirteen

The young woman who stood on the cabin porch to greet them was frail looking, with auburn hair and sea-green eyes and a silky white complexion. She was a woman of exceeding beauty, and Zeke’s first thought was that she looked like a piece of fine china that might break at any moment. He knew that when Dan first married this woman there had been problems with getting her to leave the luxuries of St. Louis to come and be with him at Fort Laramie, and the marriage had almost ended before it had a chance to begin. It was easy to see now why Emily Monroe doubted her ability to survive in the West. She was obviously not of strong constitution. A man could tell that at first glance. She was rich and slightly spoiled when Dan had met her, but Zeke could see how his brother might have overlooked those things in return for the chance to hold such exquisite beauty and call her his wife. She was not the kind of woman Zeke would want to marry, but he had to smile at the thought of Danny being taken by the girl.

He rode closer and slid from his horse, reaching up and taking Lillian down, while Emily stood staring at him as though he were some kind of grizzly coming to
attack her. Zeke Monroe was not only bigger than she had even pictured, but also much meaner looking. He was pure Indian in appearance. She had not expected that, in spite of all the times Danny had tried to explain to her what Zeke was like. He wore only leggings this day, and his bare chest displayed a belt of ammunition, while the menacing knife was strapped to his waist along with the handgun. His arms were decorated with copper bands and his hair hung loose.

The rest of the Monroe family rode closer, and Abbie was struck by the exquisite beauty and frail countenance of Emily Monroe. So this was the spoiled young girl she had once written to, trying to explain that it was possible for a woman to survive in the West, trying to convince the girl she should come out and be with Danny, who in the early days of their marriage was a very frustrated, unhappy and lonely man, to the point of having an affair with a Sioux woman. But things had finally improved, and much of the credit for that went to the beautiful letter Abbie had sent to Emily, a woman she had never met, until now.

The rest of the Monroe children stared at the woman and Wolf’s Blood immediately disapproved, deciding right away he would never marry something as breakable as this woman looked to be, although she was very pretty—like a flower. But flowers wilted, and this woman looked like she could wilt very easily.

Zeke mounted the steps and towered over the sister-in-law he had never met. She stepped back, her eyes wide. He grinned and put out his hand. “So you’re Danny’s wife, are you?” he spoke up gently, seeing the fear in her eyes. She had no choice but to offer her hand, and she was surprised at the gentle way in which he took it, half expecting him to crush it.

“I … yes. I am Emily. Our little girl, Jennifer, she’s inside, with the gentlemen who brought me
here.” She pulled her hand away. “I’m sorry … to intrude upon you this way, Mister Monroe. I am sure you are all very tired. Your man, Dooley, he told me … where you have been.” She glanced over at Wolf’s Blood and swallowed, feeling ill at the thought of what Dooley had explained to her about the Sun Dance and Zeke’s son partaking of the sacrifice. She looked back up at Zeke. “You … you
are
Zeke Monroe, aren’t you?”

His smile was warm and handsome, and when he grinned she could see a resemblance to Danny, although their coloring was totally different. “I sure am. Please call me Zeke.” His eyes took a quick scan of her body, and he suppressed an urge to laugh at the thought of Danny diving into a quick marriage just to get this pretty flower in his bed. No wonder they had had problems. This was the kind of girl who probably thought all a husband and wife did was kiss, until she became a wife and found out otherwise.

Abbie was dismounting now. Emily glanced at her. Abbie was dark and beautiful, much prettier than she had pictured, and much more preserved. She had expected a weathered, tired-looking, rather dried-up and overworked woman. The young woman who approached her now was far from any of those things, a woman of radiant beauty and a woman of amazing inner strength. It was one of those things another could sense about her right away, and Emily found herself wishing she could be as strong as Abigail Monroe. Abbie approached them carrying little Jason. She shifted the boy to one arm and walked up to Emily to hug her, thinking to herself how bony Emily felt.

“Emily!” she exclaimed softly. “It’s so wonderful to finally get to meet you in person. We’ve heard so much about you over the years.”

Emily blushed, realizing that all they had heard had
not exactly been flattering. Now she could understand the beauty and strength of the words in the letter Abbie had written to her nine years earlier, urging a then-spoiled and frightened Emily to be a better wife to Danny. Here was a woman that another woman could call friend, a woman one could turn to for comfort, one who probably had all the right words. For Abigail Monroe had suffered and fought and loved and sacrificed all of her life. Her smile and eyes were warm. She pulled back and studied Emily.

“You’re even prettier than Danny said,” she told the young woman.

Emily smiled and blinked back tears. “I … thank you for your kind words. But … you might not be so happy to see me, Abbie. Is … is it all right to call you Abbie?”

Abbie suppressed her apprehension over the reason for the woman’s presence. “My heavens, of course it is! Come back inside, Emily. I hope you found everything clean and comfortable. We’ve been gone for weeks, so I haven’t been here to keep things tidy. How long have you been here?”

The girl twisted her hands nervously. “About four days.” She looked Abbie over again. She was a slender but strong woman, her white skin tanned to a lovely brown but still many shades lighter than her husband’s natural deep color. “You’re so pretty, Abbie,” she blurted out. “I didn’t expect … I mean … you look wonderful. Living out here the way you do … having your babies all alone …” She swallowed again. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Their eyes held. “A woman can do a lot of things she never thought she could do when it’s for the man she loves,” Abbie replied.

Emily’s lips quivered and a tear slipped down her cheek. “Yes … I am beginning to learn that.” She
sniffed. “I.… was so nervous … about coming here. I didn’t know what to expect, and I heard … so many things about … about how wild your husband can be. And after the way Danny and I started out, I thought perhaps … I’d get chased right off your land. I was hoping …” She looked up at Zeke. “I need your help, Mr. Monroe … I mean, Zeke.”

To their surprise she burst into tears and Abbie and Zeke looked at each other in confusion. Abbie put an arm around the girl’s shoulders.

“Come inside, Emily, and sit down. It will be all right,” she soothed the girl. She gave Emily a reassuring hug and they went into the house, Zeke telling Wolf’s Blood to keep the children outside for a while. Abbie was surprised and grateful to see that while Emily had been there she had obviously cleaned the cabin. There was even a pot of stew over the hearth, as well as some coffee. A lovely little girl with green eyes and red curls looked up at them from where she sat on the rough board floor playing with a china doll, and three men sat at the large table in the middle of the room. They all rose when Zeke and Abbie went inside, staring in surprise at Abbie’s Indian tunic and in amazed awe at Zeke himself, the biggest, meanest-looking Indian they had ever seen.

Emily dabbed at her eyes and breathed deeply for control. “These three gentlemen are Sidney Bale, Paul Smith and Bernard Randall,” she told Zeke and Abbie. “They are all from St. Louis, where I grew up and where I am now staying in my father’s house, which he bequeathed to me. These gentlemen were old friends of my father, and were kind enough to agree to accompany me and help me find you, Zeke. My father was a well-respected army general when he died, and was closely associated with all three of these men. Of course you know my father is the man Danny saved down in
Mexico all those years ago. That was how he and Danny knew each other, and how Danny and I eventually met. But that was years later. My … my father is dead now.” She turned to the three men. “This man is Danny’s half brother, Zeke Monroe,” she explained to them, “the one I told you about. And this lovely woman here is his wife, Abigail. She is also from Tennessee.”

The three men nodded to Zeke and each shook hands with him. “Emily had a rough idea where you were supposed to be living,” Paul Smith spoke up. “So we just headed south and asked at various forts until we found your place. You have some handsome horses out there, Mister Monroe.”

“Thank you. I raise them. Helps feed the mouths of seven hungry children.”

The three men smiled, unable to keep themselves from nothing short of staring at Zeke and Abbie, a most unusual couple. Zeke’s friendly handshake and smile did not match his size and appearance. He looked more like the kind of man who would prefer to lift their scalp, and none of them doubted he could take on all three of them at once.

“It’s good of you to watch out for Emily this way and give her protection in coming here,” Zeke was telling them. “This is quite a surprise. Surely it was a dangerous journey, with the country in so much turmoil.”

Sidney Bale frowned. “It was indeed. The country is dangerous for everyone right now—Negro, Indian, Federals, Confederates, just about any faction you can name. Things are a mess, and, well, that’s partly why Emily insisted on coming here and talking to you in person. And since the three of us are not involved in the war, and were very close to Emily’s father when he was alive, well, we agreed to come along and keep watch. It was a long, hard journey for her. But she’s had time to
rest while we waited for you to get back.” His eyes scanned the powerful man before him. “You’ve … been at some kind of Indian celebration, your friend, Dooley, tells us.”

“The Sun Dance. My son took part in a very painful but religious ceremony.”

The men smiled nervously, totally ignorant of Indian ways and friendly to this one only because he was distantly related to Emily, a fact that seemed incredulous when looking at him, but not as incredulous as the fact that the beautiful white woman who stood next to him had been married to the man for several years and had borne him seven children, all without the help of a doctor.

Abbie knelt down beside the little girl who was playing on the floor. She smiled and touched her curls. “You must be Jennifer.” She looked up at Emily. “She’s beautiful.” she exclaimed.

Emily smiled. “Thank you. I suppose you know her middle name is Abigail—after you.”

Abbie smiled more. “I’m very flattered that you did that, Emily.”

Zeke walked toward Jennifer to get a closer look, and the girl’s eyes widened. She immediately ran to her mother, burying her face in Emily’s skirts. Emily blushed.

“I’m afraid … she’s never seen anyone quite so … so big and dark,” she told Zeke. “I’m sorry.”

Zeke only chuckled, and the three men made their way toward the door. “We’ll give you folks some privacy,” Paul Smith spoke up. “Emily needs to talk to you. We’ll be outside. Is your son out there? The one who participated in the sacrifice?”

“He’s the biggest one of the lot—the one who looks the most Indian. His name is Wolf’s Blood.”

The three men looked at each other, and Paul Smith
looked back at Zeke. “Wolf’s Blood?”

“That’s right.”

“He … doesn’t have a white name?”

“No. The others do, but not Wolf’s Blood. He wants only to be Cheyenne.”

The men smiled nervously, fingering their hats in their hands, and Zeke found their attitude humorous.

“He doesn’t bite,” he told them. “While you’re waiting, have him show you his knife throwing. He’s very proud of that.”

“Knife throwing,” Smith replied. He glanced at Zeke’s own blade. He had heard some wild tales about this man. “Of course.” They all nodded to Abbie respectfully and went outside, and Zeke moved his dark eyes to Emily, losing his smile.

“What has happened to Danny?” he asked immediately. “I’ve been worried about him for over a year, ever since I learned he joined the Confederates. Why did he do that?”

She blinked and stepped back again. His presence seemed to fill the room and make it seem smaller. “Why, because he’s from Tennessee, of course,” she replied. “Surely you would understand that.”

He snickered. “No, I do not understand that. If you think I have any kind of allegiance to Tennessee, ma’am, think again. I have no ties to Tennessee.”

“But.… your father is there!” she exclaimed “He’s old and alone now. Your … your brother Lenny is dead, Zeke. He was killed at Wilson’s Creek. That was part of the reason Danny went back to Tennessee to fight for the Confederates. Lenny left behind a wife and two children. He was a good man, Zeke.”

Zeke closed his eyes and turned away. When he left Tennessee, Lenny was just a child. It felt strange to know he had a grown brother he had never seen and who was now already dead. It brought an ache to his chest, the
ache of wondering where all the years had gone.

“What about Lance?” he asked in a strained voice.

“Lance is also fighting for the Confederates. But no one knows where he is or if he is even alive. Your father is all alone on the old farm, Zeke. In his last letter to me, Danny told me how … how withered and lonely he is. Lenny was good to him … stayed on the farm. Your father has no one now.”

Zeke turned, and the look in his eyes frightened her. The hard muscle of his body tensed at the words. “My father is dead, Emily. His name was Deer Slayer, and he was Cheyenne—the man who married my Cheyenne mother and is the father of my Cheyenne brothers, Swift Arrow and Black Elk. I have no father in Tennessee.”

“But you do!” she replied, confused by the words. “Your
true
father lives there!”

“I make no claim to Hugh Monroe.” he told her in a louder voice. “The man is no father of mine!”

Emily blinked and her lips puckered. Perhaps she had come to the wrong man after all, and now she had offended this favorite brother of Danny’s, although she was not quite sure why he was a favorite.