Sweet Prairie Passion (Savage Destiny) (2 page)

“I’ve scouted a couple other trains,” the man replied. “Did okay. I know my way around from here to Oregon—north or south, prairies and mountains. Went to California with Joe Walker back in ’thirty-three.”

“Joe Walker!” David Craig spoke up. “Why … he’s famous!”

The stranger’s eyes shifted to David, but showed no particular emotion.

“You couldn’t have been very old,” Trent replied.

“Old enough to go, young enough to learn a lot,” the man replied. “Thirteen. Been around a lot since then. Been out West several times.”

Abbie calculated as quickly as she could. Twenty-five. He was twenty-five years old and had been traveling the West for twelve years! A full-grown man who knew his way.

Jason Trent rubbed his jaw and looked over at Connely, who scowled and turned away, muttering something about Indians. The stranger eyed him darkly, and the look in his eyes put fear into Abbie.

“Like I say,” he continued. “I know my way, and I can get you there. I raise horses—Appaloosas—on the Arkansas River. Just finished a deal on a few, and I’m wanting to do a little moving around before I go back. My people will tend the horses, and I need the extra money.”

“And by your ‘people,’ you mean Indians, right?” Connely spoke up, his back turned. He said the word
as though it were something detestable. The stranger shifted his feet, and Abbie could sense the anger he was fighting to keep hidden.

“I wasn’t talking to you, mister,” he replied quietly. The words had a finality to them that kept Connely’s mouth shut. The man’s attention returned to Jason Trent. “Name’s Zeke. Cheyenne Zeke,” he told Jason. He scanned the group again, this time catching Abbie’s eyes and holding them like a magnet. A softness that surprised her appeared in his own eyes, and he smiled just slightly. She could not help smiling back, even though she felt her father looking at her and knew he objected. Then Zeke moved on to the others again. “To answer your question, I’m part Cheyenne—on my ma’s side. My father was a Tennessee man, like I expect some of you are. Best scout you can have is a half-breed. I know both worlds. I can talk to the Indians. And like I say, I know the land. I’ll just step aside, and you can discuss it with the others.”

Like a sleek panther, Zeke moved back into the shadows, and Abbie’s father stepped aside to talk with Kelsoe and the others. Abbie could vaguely see the side of Cheyenne Zeke’s face that was lit faintly by the firelight; yet in spite of the dark, she knew his eyes were on her again. She felt badly because he might think she looked at him disdainfully simply because she was white and he was a half-breed. Abigail Trent had no prejudice in her young heart, and no malice. And for some reason it was important to her that he know that. LeeAnn, afraid of the half-breed, scurried off to the wagon, but Abbie looked in his direction and swallowed.

“Would you … like some coffee, Mr. Zeke?” she asked, disgusted by the girlish sound of her voice.

“I’d be obliged,” the man replied. From an old iron pot that hung over the fire, she poured some coffee into a tin cup, then walked closer to Zeke and handed it to him.

“Abbie!” her father suddenly barked. She jumped, and some of the coffee spilled. “Why are you still out here?”

She reddened deeply, ignoring the pain of the hot coffee that had splashed onto her hand. She glared at her father, angry with him for the first time in her life. He had interrupted a beautiful, secret moment between herself and this fascinating stranger called Cheyenne Zeke.

“I never knew us Tennessee folks to shun offering a man a cup of coffee!” she replied defiantly. Her father looked angry enough to hit her. But she knew he’d never lay a hand on her, and she felt as though she’d just won a little victory of her own. She looked up at Zeke. “Here’s your coffee,” she told him, as the others returned to their discussion.

“Perhaps I’d best not take it,” the man replied, his eyes making her knees feel weak.

“I have a feeling you are not the type to back down from something you know is right,” she replied boldly. “There’s no reason why you shouldn’t drink this, if you choose.”

Now he grinned a little, stirred by this child struggling to act like a woman in front of him. He took the cup from her, his hand touching hers briefly and sending lightning through her bones. “Thank you, ma’am,” he told her with a nod.

“Abbie, get to the wagon!” her father ordered, this time with less harshness. She glanced over at him, then back at Zeke.

“You’d best do what your pa says, ma’am,” Zeke told her. It seemed to make all the difference in the world that it was Zeke telling her and not her father. She nodded and slipped quietly away to the wagon, but rather than climb inside, she stood at the corner to watch and listen.

Jason Trent, Kelsoe and the others walked back in a group to where Zeke stood drinking his coffee.

“We … uh … we’ll seriously consider hiring you, Cheyenne Zeke,” Trent spoke up, rubbing his chin again. “But we have a right to know a little more about you—like how you can have a father from Tennessee and a Cheyenne mother. Quite a distance between Tennessee and Cheyenne territory.”

“Long story,” Zeke replied. “My pa come out to the plains years back, married a Cheyenne woman, then left again. Went back to Tennessee. Took me with him. Guess that’s when I learned to talk like a Tennessee man. At any rate, my pa was a wandering man; that’s what led him out West to the mountains. When he went back to Tennessee, he married a local girl. I have three half brothers in Tennessee. Lived there myself a lot of years. Had some bad experiences and came back out here to find my real ma. Been out here ever since.”

“No family other than that? No wife?” Kelsoe asked.

Zeke just stared at him a moment, looking as though someone had stuck a knife in his chest. Abbie’s own heart tightened, for the pain in his eyes was evident.
She felt sorry for him in that instant, and then secretly chastised herself, warning her heart that the man she was staring at would probably violate and scalp her in the dark if he got the chance. Why should she feel sorry for a half-breed Indian she’d known five minutes? But no—Cheyenne Zeke would never hurt a woman. Her own intuition told her that. And there was that awful pain in his eyes!

“Had one,” he replied quietly. “Wife and son. They’re dead. I’m not answering any more questions about it.”

“White?” Connely spoke up, suspecting by the previous answer and by the fact that Zeke had lived in Tennessee that he could have married a white girl. The man seemed to detest Indians, and more than that, he seemed to enjoy rubbing them the wrong way. The word “white” was sneered haughtily.

“It’s not your business,” Zeke replied. “She’s dead, so what’s the difference? I came here looking for work. Like I said, I’m good. Now do you want a scout or not? I don’t have all night!”

Abbie felt like hitting Connely for making Zeke angry. The remark about his dead wife had seemed to cut deeply into the man, but to her own surprise, Abbie found that she was glad Cheyenne Zeke was now unattached. The realization that he was a widower and had lost a son besides only melted her heart even more. Jason Trent turned to the others.

“I say we hire him. Like he says, he knows both sides, and he knows the land. Looks like a good fighting man to me—a brave man. I say we use him. God knows none of us knows his way around out there.”

“Well,” Kelsoe answered, rubbing his neck doubtfully.
“I don’t know. Half-breeds can go either way. Folks say you can’t trust them.”

“Ain’t so with this one!” The voice had come from outside the circle. It belonged to a big, burly man dressed in skins and a beaver hat who was making his way closer—a white man, overweight but mostly muscle, with a bearded face. He appeared to be about forty, and he was smiling now and putting out his hand to Cheyenne Zeke. “How are you doin’, old friend!”

Now Zeke broke into a full smile, and Abbie’s legs felt like water. It was just as she suspected. That smile brought a disturbing handsomeness to his face, and her heart pounded so that she put a hand to her chest.

“Olin!” Zeke replied. “Where in hell have you been?”

“Just about everywhere—same as you,” the man replied as they shook hands firmly. The new man turned to Trent. “Mister, I’m Olin Wales,” he said, putting out his hand to Trent. “Zeke here—he’s a good man. A good man. Saved my life once. You can bet your very lives that he’ll be one damned handy man to have along on a train. He knows all about everything out there, including the Indians. He’d never abuse a woman or be dishonest or lead you wrong. I’ll vouch for him. I’d stake my life on Cheyenne Zeke. In fact, I wouldn’t mind going along myself—give me and Zeke a chance to catch up on old times, and two scouts are always better than one. I’ve made that trek before, and I’ve trapped in the Rockies for years. How about it?”

Trent looked relieved, as did Kelsoe. But Connely began to look a little worried. Abbie liked the man less
and less, yet she was not sure why. Perhaps it was the way he had of not looking straight at people, as though he had something to hide. At any rate, once it looked as though Zeke might scout for them, Connely lost some of his cockiness and appeared suddenly uneasy.

“All right, Zeke,” Trent told the man. “You’re hired. By the way, I’m Jason Trent.” They shook hands, and Zeke’s eyes moved to Abbie again. She felt herself blushing.

“She going along?” he asked. “And that blond girl I saw?”

“They’re my daughters,” Trent replied warily.

“Risky business,” Zeke told him. “Pretty young girls can mean trouble. Best to watch them close.”

Abbie’s heart pounded even harder. Pretty! He’d called her pretty!

“I keep a good eye on them,” Trent replied. “And they’re Tennessee bred. They can fend for themselves. And they know how to use rifles.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Zeke replied, the odd pain returning to his eyes. “But the fact remains … well … a lot of bad things can happen to a woman out there. And it’s not Indians I’m talking about. It’s your own kind. I’ve seen what your own kind can do. There’s men out there who haven’t seen anything prettier than their horse’s—” He stopped short. “Just watch them close,” he finished. “What about their ma?”

Trent’s face clouded. “My woman died last year—some kind of cancer,” he told the man. “There’s just the two girls—and my son Jeremy. He’s asleep. This man here beside me is Mr. Kelsoe, and he’s got three other men with him—four wagons in all. The … uh
… older gentleman there is Morris Connely. Don’t know his business and haven’t asked. It’s his affair.”

“That’s right!” Connely snapped, turning and stalking off to his wagon. Trent shrugged and looked back at Zeke.

“We aren’t all like him,” he added. “I … uh … I want you to know I didn’t yell at my daughter because you’re part Indian. I’d have done the same with any stranger. Abbie’s a little too trusting—too young to know the difference, I guess.”

Zeke smiled a little and Abbie looked down at the ground, embarrassed.

“I expect there will be more at Sapling Grove when we get there tomorrow,” Trent added.

“I expect so. And I understand about your daughters, Mr. Trent. I’d do the same.”

To Abbie’s relief, her father finally smiled at Zeke. “The one who got you the coffee is Abigail. She’s fifteen. The other daughter is LeeAnn. She’s seventeen. But it’s Abbie who’s kind of taken over since their ma died. She’s the strong one of the two.”

Zeke looked over at Abbie again, seeming pleased with the remark. “I sensed that,” he told Trent. Abbie blushed again and turned around to climb into the wagon, where LeeAnn sat in a robe brushing her hair.

“Abigail Trent!” she said right away in a loud whisper. “I was peeking and I saw you hand that coffee to that half-breed! How could you do such a daring thing!”

“I think he’s wonderful,” Abbie replied, unbuttoning her dress.

“Abbie! Why you don’t have any sense at all?” LeeAnn scolded. “You stay away from that one, or
he’ll be making a woman out of you before you’re wanting to
be
one, and he’ll have that long hair stuck in his belt!”

“That’s hogwash!” Abbie shot back. “He’d do no such thing! I’m not one bit afraid of him!”

“You make eyes at that half-breed, and you’ll be sorry; mark my words!” LeeAnn answered. “Besides, he’s got no more than the clothes on his back, I’ll bet. There’s no future in a wandering, penniless half-breed, who’s probably twice your age, I might remind you!”

“Twenty-five,” Abbie replied with a grin. “I already figured it out.”

“You see? He
is
almost twice your age!”

Abbie giggled. “Oh, LeeAnn, a man like him wouldn’t look more than once at something like me anyway. But I can still dream. You can have your fancy men. Me, I’m not after fancy, perfumed, ruffled men. When I take a man, he’ll be all man, strong and brave, a man who’d die for me in a second if it meant saving my life and my virtue. I’ll bet that’s the kind of man Zeke is.”

“You’re talking dumb!” LeeAnn replied. “You don’t know beans about men!”

“And what do
you
know!” Abbie shot back, suddenly jealous of her sister’s looks.

“A lot more than you do!” the girl replied. “I’ve been kissed, and that Leonard Brown touched my breasts once.”

“LeeAnn!” Abbie chided. “What a brazen thing to let a boy do to you!”

LeeAnn smiled smugly. “A girl has to learn a few things, doesn’t she? When the right man comes along,
now I’ll know how to handle him. A woman has to have a little experience if she’s to be able to handle a man. I don’t intend to be a bumbling nincompoop when my fancy man comes along. I’ll be a real woman for him.”

“A man of experience would surely understand when a girl hasn’t ever had a man before. He wouldn’t blame her or laugh at her. If he was really in love with her, he’d be patient and kind with her. And if he was all that experienced, then he wouldn’t be in a hurry to rush at her and scare her to death.”

LeeAnn’s eyebrows went up. “Well, aren’t you the big know-it-all. If you think that’s how a man like Cheyenne Zeke would be, think twice. Half-breeds are always panting after white women, and don’t forget they’re part savage! So they’d make love like a savage, and they don’t wait around to find out if you’re willing or not. They don’t give their women any choice!”