Embrace the Wild Land (35 page)

It was like Zeke had said—if they went on this way, then Winston Garvey would win after all. She could not let Winston Garvey win. She was Abigail Trent Monroe. She was Jason Trent’s daughter, the fiesty young girl who had come west with her family and met the man she would spend her life with. She had made that man promises that she was now breaking.

She looked off to the east, her heart burning, the thought of Zeke being out there with the prostitutes
bringing on a jealousy that helped surmount her fears. After all, Zeke Monroe was a man, and a man had needs. And the fear of making love was mastered by the terrible jealousy at the thought of Zeke turning to another woman for the things his wife would not give him. Besides that, she had to face her own needs, and the fact that she would never be really strong again until she could absorb the strength she always found in her husband’s arms. How she longed to feel them around her in the night again, to be held that way again! She knew why he had not held her much—knew how difficult it would be for him. He had stayed away from her out of respect, doing everything he could to help her but staying out of their bed at night.

She closed her eyes and swallowed back tears. “God help me!” she squeaked. “Just don’t let me see shame in his eyes!”

It was an hour before Zeke and Wolf’s Blood made it back again. Both father and son slowed their horses to a slow trot when they saw the unexpected sight. Abbie was playing in the snow with the children, and she was laughing as they buried her and washed her face. Father and son looked at each other in surprise and Wolf’s Blood smiled.

Zeke rode closer then, dismounting and walking over to help Abbie up out of the snow. “You shouldn’t be out here like this,” he told her. “You’ll be sick again, Abbie.”

She just laughed. “I want to play with my children,” she announced. “I haven’t played with them and laughed with them since …” She looked away and shook snow from her elkskin coat. She breathed deeply, fighting the terrible fear. Now that he stood so near—so tall and strong, so much man—she was afraid again. She looked back up at him, tears in her eyes but a smile
on her lips. “Zeke, I want a tree.”

He frowned. “A what?”

“A tree. You know, a Christmas tree. Some kind of pine tree. Anything.”

He grinned, his heart taking hope in the new light in her eyes and the strange new attitude she seemed to have. “There’s nothing around here but cottonwoods, Abbie,” he protested.

“Then have Wolf’s Blood go and find us a pine tree. There must be one that would do. Load up the children and have them go find a tree.”

Zeke watched her closely. Was she saying she wanted to be alone with him? A tear slipped down her cheek.

“Please?” she said quietly. “I want a tree for Christmas. I know it means nothing to you, but for some reason it means everything to me. I want us to laugh again, Zeke. I want to bake and make presents and I want the children to use their imaginations in making things to decorate the tree. I want us to be a family again.”

Her lower lip quivered and he touched her face. She had not mentioned the painted women, and he sensed she was not going to ask. “Abbie,” he said softly.
“Nemehotatse!”

She rested her head against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. He turned to Wolf’s Blood. “Your mother wants a tree,” he told the boy.

“A what?” the boy asked with a frown.

“A tree. A Christmas tree. Some kind of pine tree.”

“You mean—in the house?” the boy asked.

Zeke chuckled. “Yes, in the house. Take the children and go see what you can find. Cut down something small enough to—no, cut the biggest one you can find. We have the extra room now. We’ll put it in there.”

“A tree in the house?” the boy asked again. “Why?”

Zeke petted Abbie’s hair. “Because it’s a Christian tradition, Wolf’s Blood—one of the white customs I will not deny your mother. Now just do like I say and go find one. And take your brothers and sisters along.” He met the boy’s eyes. “All of them.”

The boy suddenly grinned. “Yes, Father.”

The next several minutes were spent rigging up horses while Abbie sat warming herself by the potbelly stove. Suddenly the minutes seemed like hours until Zeke finally came inside and they were alone. He walked over and sat down in a chair near her, removing his winter moccasins and his coat. He stood up then and removed his buckskin shirt. “It’s too cold out there and too warm in here,” he spoke up. “At least it seems too warm sometimes when you first come in with all these clothes on.”

He shook out his long hair, and he suddenly seemed twice as big to her as he really was, standing there tall and dark and broad, scars of battle on his chest and back and face, a man capable of untold violence. Could he still be as gentle with her in their bed as he had once been? He saw the strange fear in her eyes and knelt in front of her, taking her hands.

“Abbie, are you all right?”

She nodded.

He grinned. “It was so wonderful to see you smiling out there, to hear you laughing.” He suddenly felt like a nervous young man taking a woman for the first time. “Abbie, it can wait.”

“No,” she replied softly. “It can’t wait any longer. We are either husband and wife, or we are not. It’s time to know.” He felt her trembling. “Zeke, I’m so scared! Perhaps … perhaps you don’t even want me!”

He sobered, fire in his eyes then, his eyes moving over her still-too-thin body lovingly. “I want you so
badly sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy,” he replied. “There is something I must do, and you know it.” He kissed her lightly, their first real kiss since he had left her over a year before. How good it tasted! How sweet and delicious and tender! The kiss lingered, becoming more hungry, more demanding. She knew that she had started something that she would be unable to stop if she changed her mind. To stop him now would be the cruelest trick she could play on him.

He released the kiss, bending down to remove her own winter moccasins. He ran his fingers along her legs, his heart aching at how thin they were, hoping he would not frighten her or somehow damage her emotionally by moving too quickly. He reached up and unlaced her tunic at the shoulders, and she reddened as it fell away from her breasts. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, leaning forward and gently kissing the whites of her breasts.

“Abbie! Abbie!” he groaned, resting his face between her breasts. She stroked his hair and began to softly cry. He moved his lips over her neck and back to her mouth, kissing her tenderly and moving his arms under her to pick her up out of the chair. He carried her to the bed of robes and laid her on it.

He pulled the tunic the rest of the way off and she lay there in short woolen underwear, teasing him in her half-nakedness. She curled up and he laid down beside her, taking her in his arms.

“You are mine, Abbie. Mine. I was the first to take you, and I am the only man you have ever willingly given yourself to. That is all there is to remember. Nothing can change that. Nothing. Do you understand?”

“You aren’t ashamed? You truly aren’t ashamed?”

His eyes teared. “Oh, Abbie, how could you think such a thing? There is no woman alive who can equal
you.” He kissed her gently. “I need to take you, Abbie. I need to reclaim you for myself. You are my Abbie—mine! You are my property, my woman, my beautiful, sweet Abbie-girl.”

He gently removed her woolen panties and she began to cry more. He kissed her tears. “God, don’t cry, Abbie. Please. Don’t be afraid.” He kissed her mouth then, groaning with his deep passion and joy. He would have her! He would finally have his woman again! He would be gentle. He would move slowly. He would do nothing that might frighten her or make her think ugly thoughts. He would be careful how he touched her. He would save exploring secret places for another time, when she was ready. For now it would be enough to simply be one again, to enter this woman and mate with her like they used to do and remind her there was nothing wrong in wanting her man that way.

She curled up against his chest as he quickly removed his leggings. He pulled a blanket over them and enveloped her in his arms, kissing her over and over until finally he felt a response.

He kissed her harder then and she whimpered, moving her arms around his neck. The fire in his veins was so hot that he felt a burning sensation.

He moved his lips to her neck. “Let it happen, Abbie,” he said softly. “It’s all right. There is nothing wrong in loving your own husband. It’s good and right and natural.”

“Oh, Zeke, I was so proud that it had only been you!” she wept. “I’ve never wanted another man to touch me! I tried to fight them. I could have … stopped them if I had told! But I couldn’t tell that man … where that poor little boy was! You have to believe me! I had … no choice! I would rather die … than to be touched by anyone but you!”

“Hush, Abbie-girl,” he moaned. “Do you really
think you have to explain such a thing to me? It’s over, and by this act it is ended. We will never speak of it again. They never touched you. They never touched your heart or soul. They never touched your desires. Those things belong only to me. I took them years ago and no one else can touch them. They are mine! Lone Eagle’s! You are my woman, and nothing changes that! Nothing!”

He moved on top of her then, feeling her panic build as he moved between her legs. She cried out when he entered her, her tears flowing harder. He moved gently. “God, I love you, Abbie!” he groaned. “How I love you! For so long I have dreamed of doing this again!”

Their lips met, and he could taste the salt of her tears. Finally she arched up to him, responding to the only man who could bring such response. Her tears were tears of joy! How she wanted him! How she loved him! It could be right again. It was good and beautiful, just as it had once been. Perhaps they truly could pick up the pieces and find the wonderful, special thing they had once shared.

He surged inside of her, his life suddenly pouring into her. It was impossible for him to prolong anything. It had been too long since he had been able to experience being one with his woman. He kissed her over and over, whispering words of love, laughing and crying at the same time.

“I want to do it again,” he told her, feeling like a much younger man. “I must have you again, Abbie, before the children come.” He kissed her more, moving his lips down to her breasts and gently tasting the taut nipples. These belonged to him. Every part of her belonged to him. Nothing had changed. Nothing at all! She was still his Abbie, and mating with her was still the thrill it always was.

He felt her relaxing more, and when he looked at her face her eyes were closed, her lustrous dark hair spread out on the robes. “Look at me, Abbie,” he told her. She opened her eyes and blushed, feeling on fire then beneath this man of men. He flashed the handsome smile. “Tell me who your man is.”

“My man is Zeke Monroe,” she replied softly.

“And when and where did he claim you?”

She smiled a little, reddening more. “Somewhere in Wyoming—one night when I needed him most. I was only fifteen.” She traced her fingers over his dark skin, following the hard muscle of his arm and moving up to gently touch the thin scar on his cheek. She saw the fire in his dark eyes, and again she was overwhelmed that she had this strange power over a man that others feared greatly—this man who could take on many men at once, this man who could break her in half in one quick snap, this man who feared nothing and no one, except for his fear of losing his woman. “I belong to you, Zeke Monroe. No other man has ever touched me.”

He ran a big finger over her lips. “And I have wanted no other woman,” he replied. His mouth covered hers again, and soon they were one again, sharing a joy greater than any they had known before.

Far in the distance seven Monroe children rode along the banks of the Arkansas River in search of a tree.

“There is one!” Ellen yelled. She pointed to a scraggly pine tree and Wolf’s Blood dismounted. It was not much of a tree, but he suspected it was the best one they would find. He took his hatchet from his mount and bent down to chop at it, shaking his head over his mother’s strange religious customs.

“Wolf’s Blood, look!” Margaret shouted. He frowned
and stood up, looking out in the direction she pointed. Farther down the bank of the river stood a small, trembling wolf cub. The children quieted as the wolf stared at them. “Shoot it, Wolf’s Blood!” Margaret whispered, thinking how dangerous a wolf could be.

The boy stepped toward the cub. “No. Do not move. I am going to him.”

“But the mother might be close by! She will attack you!” Margaret argued.

Wolf’s Blood shook his head, walking slowly closer. “Look at him. He is shaking and thin. He is alone. Perhaps someone has killed the mother.”

“Wolf’s Blood, stay back!” LeeAnn warned.

“Be still!” he ordered, putting up his hand. He dropped his hatchet as he walked even closer. “Hello, my friend,” he said gently. “Did Smoke send you to me?” The cub sat perfectly still as the boy came within reaching distance while the rest of the children watched with terrible fear. Margaret pulled her rifle from its casing, ready to shoot the mother if it should come charging at her brother. But there was no sign yet of another wolf.

Wolf’s Blood crouched down. “Smoke sent you, didn’t he?” he said softly, reaching out to cautiously allow the cub to smell the back of his hand. “Smoke’s spirit has brought you here. Perhaps his spirit lives in you. Is this so? Have you come to replace my loneliness for Smoke?”

The cub began licking the boy’s hand and Wolf’s Blood grinned more. “We are one in spirit,” he told the animal. Then he bravely reached out and grasped the cub, lifting it up to see that it was a male. Then he held it against his chest, rubbing his cheek against its head and burying his hands in its thick fur. “Thank you, wolf spirit,” he whispered. “This is a great gift you have given me. It brings me new power, new hope.
I will take good care of your little son, and he will take good care of me.”

He turned to the others, tears in his eyes. “You see? Smoke has sent him to me. The cub means no harm. It shall be my pet, a gift from the wolf spirit!”