Sweet Prairie Passion (Savage Destiny) (3 page)

“Oh, what do you know?” Abbie said quietly. “So what if you’ve been kissed and touched,” she pouted. “Those were stupid, back-hill boys who don’t know what they’re about.”

LeeAnn giggled and climbed under her quilt. “I declare, Abbie, for a girl who this morning didn’t want anything to do with boys, you sure did change your thinking of a sudden! Now quit talking. I want to sleep.”

As she snuggled down into the quilt, Abbie sat staring at the lamp.

“I changed my mind because it isn’t a boy I’m thinking about,” she replied in a near whisper.

“That’s a fact,” LeeAnn teased. “It’s a man—too
much man for the likes of you, little sister!” She giggled again, and inside, Abbie felt like crying. LeeAnn was probably right, and she wished with all her heart she could grow up overnight and emerge a full-grown woman from the wagon in the morning. She sighed and, snuggling down under her own quilt, closed her eyes and thought of Zeke. She dreamed she was walking up to him, smiling, and she put out her hand and he took it. She told him he had a friend, and that she didn’t hate Indians; and he smiled his handsome smile and was grateful. Then he kissed her cheek and told her he was glad to have a friend, and they walked away together. But then she fell asleep, and that was the end of the dream.

Two

The next day found them at Sapling Grove, but to Abbie’s disappointment, Cheyenne Zeke was not there to greet them. She watched for him the rest of the afternoon, as they made camp and met the others who began to congregate and introduce themselves.

The Trents had arrived with the four Kelsoe wagons and the Connely wagon, and among the six wagons there was a total of thirty-two mules, six horses, and four oxen. Most of the mules belonged to Kelsoe, who had six hitched to each of his wagons, plus four extra mules and four horses. Connely’s wagon was pulled by four mules, and the Trent wagon was pulled by two oxen, with two spare oxen and two horses along.

Connely still appeared nervous and spoke to hardly anyone, but the rest of them were soon sharing stories of why they were there and what they intended to do in Oregon. David Craig kept watching LeeAnn, but she paid him no heed. For one of the new arrivals at Sapling Grove was a smooth and handsome man named Quentin Robards. LeeAnn could not help but be attracted
to him, for in her mind, Robards was just the man she had been seeking. His dark hair was slicked back tidily, and his well-tailored pants and long coat complemented his lean, attractive build. But there was a prettiness about him that Abbie did not like. His skin was too clean, his hands too white, as though he had never worked hard. She guessed his age to be thirty or so, and thought it humorous that just the day before LeeAnn had been warning her about older men. It was possible Robards was even older than he looked, for he had apparently led a soft life and had pampered his looks.

Robards spotted LeeAnn’s flirtations immediately, and quickly introduced himself when a group gathered around the Trent campfire. Abbie tried to keep from making a face at the man’s perfumed smell, but LeeAnn smiled beautifully and fluttered her eyelids as he gave his name and bowed in a gentlemanly fashion. He spoke well, as though he was educated, but in spite of her youth and inexperience, Abbie suspected he was a ladies’ man, who had cared for no woman in particular in his whole life, and who cared mostly about himself. He wore flashy rings, and earlier she had seen him smoking an expensive-looking cigar. She wondered if he was a gambler. She had already heard whispers to that effect, and it angered her to see her scatterbrained sister mooning over the man. Robards had no wagon. Instead he rode alone on a horse, a grand, shiny, black stallion that carried two fancy carpetbags on either side of the saddle.

As Robards smiled prettily and introduced himself to the others, they were joined by another man, sober of face and stern looking, who introduced himself in
very pious tones as Wendell Graydon, a preacher. But to Abbie, Preacher Graydon did not seem like a preacher, for in his unattractive face and narrow eyes she could see that the man had no real love for others. He was middle-aged, tall and spindly, with a large, sharp-hooked nose and an extremely white complexion that was already reddening from the day’s sun. There was a coldness about him that made her stomach quiver when he shook her hand with his own cool, bony one, and she decided this was not the kind of preacher she would ever turn to for help. He also had no wagon, and rode only a horse with his supplies in his saddle bags, informing the others that all he needed was the Good Book and prayer to get by on. But Abbie suspected he would need more than that.

Her apprehension was relieved by the arrival of another woman, a Mrs. Harriet Hanes, who appeared to be in her late twenties, and who was traveling with her farmer husband, Bradley Hanes, a stocky, blond, and bearded man, who was short, broad-chested, and rather plain looking. They were a friendly couple with three children, which made Abbie’s little brother happy, since two of the children were boys: Jeff, who was ten, and Mike, eight. The third child was their six-year-old daughter, Mary. They drove one wagon, pulled by four oxen, with three horses tied to the back.

The last to join the group was a schoolteacher, a man named Winston Harrell and a widower like Abbie’s father. He had a ten-year-old son with him, a quiet boy named Philip. Harrell carried a number of books in his wagon, and Abbie wondered if he would get over those high mountains she’d heard about with such a heavy load. They had already been talking
about not being able to take along too much weight. Now she grew worried, for her father had brought along her mother’s grandfather clock, and Abbie would rather die than to lose the precious heirloom.

And so their group had grown, some of them going to the West for known reasons, and some for unknown reasons. Preacher Graydon spouted off about saving the “heathen” Indians, and Mr. Harrell spoke with sincerity about setting up a school for settlers’ children. The Haneses intended to settle in and to farm one of the rich valleys of Oregon they’d heard so much about. Robards was evasive about his intentions, and Abbie suspected that he planned to get rich off gambling. Connely still gave no indication whatsoever of his reasons for heading beyond the Missouri, while Kelsoe was going to set up a trade line to the West. Now their group was big enough to travel, with eight wagons, twelve men, three women—if Abbie and LeeAnn could be considered women—and five children. There were twelve oxen, fifteen horses, and thirty-three mules.

Abbie felt safer now, knowing that two of the twelve men would be Cheyenne Zeke and Olin Wales. Her father had already told the others they would be their scouts and had explained that Zeke was a half-breed Cheyenne. Some expressed doubts, but the more Jason Trent explained, the more at ease they seemed to be, except for the preacher, who openly protested. He promptly declared that all must remember that Indians were not among “God’s children” and could not be trusted; he added that Indians were not a part of the “Manifest Destiny” of America. Abbie recognized that term as one used to claim that the white man was
destined to conquer and rule all of America. She detested the preacher for his words, and knew she’d been right in fearing that there would be trouble between Preacher Graydon and Cheyenne Zeke. For Abbie was certain that everyone was equal in God’s eyes, including the Indians; and she felt there were probably some Indians who were more “Christian” than the preacher. His comment even seemed to rub some of the others the wrong way, and her heart swelled with love when her father spouted back that a man’s worth should be based on his honesty and his actions, not on his race, be that white or Indian. If Cheyenne Zeke could get them where they were going, that was all that was important.

Talk turned to who would be captain of the wagon train. Neither Jason Trent nor Bradley Hanes wanted the job because each had his family to look after. The fancy Quentin Robards didn’t know enough about such travel to be a leader, and neither did Connely, who seemed too preoccupied with himself to care anyway. The preacher declared he would tend to God’s matters and let someone else do the leading of the train, and the schoolteacher preferred to spend his spare time studying his books instead of thinking about the trail ahead. That left Bentley Kelsoe, who said he’d be glad to take the job, since he had no family and since he had the most wagons and men. They all knew the real leading would be done by Zeke and Olin Wales, but they needed someone from their own group to keep things organized in camp, to settle arguments, and to supervise the mending of broken wagons and such, since much of Zeke and Olin’s time would be spent scouting the trail ahead.

On hearing the latter part of this discussion, Abbie realized that must be what those two were doing at that very moment, and that was why they had not yet shown up in camp. The prairies were quite muddy from the spring rains, and Zeke would have to check to see what would be the best route to take that first day to avoid the prairie spring quagmires. The sun began to fade over the western horizon, and Abbie was sure now that she would not see Cheyenne Zeke that day.

LeeAnn pulled her toward a hollow, where there was a big clump of trees, so she could go to the bathroom, and since Abbie had to go also, she went along with her sister.

“Oh, Abbie, did you see that beautiful Quentin Robards?” LeeAnn asked as they walked.

“I saw him, all right. Looks like a smooth one to me, LeeAnn. I’d say that nice-looking David Craig is a better catch.”

“He’s just a boy! Quentin is a man, and he’s got money! You can tell! Oh, he seems so educated and refined!”

“He probably won the money gambling!” Abbie retorted. “Don’t forget that a gambler can be rich one day and broke the next. Pa always warned us never to marry a man like that. I’ll bet he’s going out West just to take advantage of anyone out there who doesn’t know he’s a card shark. He’s probably running from somebody in the East who’s after his hide for a gambling debt.”

LeeAnn sighed disgustedly. “Abbie, we never do agree on men!” She stopped and grasped her sister’s arms. “You
do
agree that he’s handsome, though,
don’t you?”

Abbie shrugged. “I guess.” Then she smiled. “So is Cheyenne Zeke. You don’t like my kind of man, and I don’t like yours; but that doesn’t mean we have to fight about it, does it? I hope you find what you want, LeeAnn. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

The two girls hugged. “I feel the same about you, Abbie.” They hurried on to the hollow, and in later years, Abbie would always remember how pretty and happy LeeAnn was that day.

They ducked down out of sight of the wagons, pulled up their skirts, and pulled down their pantaloons to go to the bathroom. Abbie finished first and pulled up her pants; then she dropped her skirt and froze. Three men sat behind them, astride large horses, watching and wearing big grins at the sight. How they had gotten there without a sound was beyond Abbie, especially considering the fact that they smelled so bad she’d caught a whiff without even having to stand close to them. The odor was that of old blood, which she surmised came from the poorly dried buffalo robes they wore. She swallowed and touched LeeAnn’s shoulder.

“Get up!” she squeaked. Turning to look, LeeAnn screamed, jumped up, and pulled on her drawers. She half fell in doing so, and one of the men laughed. In the next moment, he had a rope slung around LeeAnn so that she could not move her arms.

“Well, well! This is the best thing I’ve trapped all winter!” the man snickered through yellowed teeth. “You got a nice pair of legs, honey, and a real perty ass. Brings an ache to a man’s innards, you know? You and me are gonna have us a little fun, blondie.”

Almost immediately, a rope was around Abbie, and two of the men had dismounted. One of them quickly crammed a filthy kerchief into LeeAnn’s mouth and tied a rope tightly around that. The other tried to do the same with Abbie, but she had more fight in her than the totally frozen LeeAnn, and she let out a loud scream and bit the man’s hand as hard as she could. He yelped and hit her hard across the face. It stung, and she tasted blood, then the gag was in her mouth also. Her arms were tied fast, and both ropes were secured to the pommel of the third man’s saddle. He backed up his horse a little so that the girls fell down, then he laughed.

“I got them into position for you, boys. All you got to do is spread them little legs and get your piece. The folks out yonder won’t even know what’s goin’ on till it’s over and we’re gone from here.

One man moved warily toward Abbie, who kicked at him, but LeeAnn just lay still and cried while the other man pushed up her dress, licking his lips. Abbie struggled wildly, giving her attacker a good kick in the shin bone, angering him. He hit her again, and her head reeled. She waited for the horrible hands to rip at her underclothes, trying in vain to scream again, but for some reason the man did not touch her. She blinked her eyes against her dizziness, and when they focused, she saw the two men staring at something. She looked up to see a huge horse, a very fine and strong Appaloosa, the finest horse she had ever seen. And astride the horse was Cheyenne Zeke. Never had she been so happy to see someone, but the look in his eyes frightened even Abbie. For they blazed with fire and vengeance, and all three of her attackers were
very obviously afraid of him.

Zeke held his rifle casually on the man still sitting on his horse with the ropes tied to the pommel.

“Let loose of the ropes, Rube,” he said in a low growl.

The one called Rube smiled nervously. “Well, if it ain’t the half-breed son of a bitch that tried to kill me a couple of years back. You sure do have a way of spoilin’ a man’s fun, Zeke.”

“Cut the rope,” Zeke repeated, raising his rifle a little. To Abbie’s surprise the gun went off, and Rube’s hat went flying. The man’s horse jumped and jerked the girls’ bodies. “Cut the rope! Now!” Zeke ordered.

“You bastard!” Rube snarled. “These little fillies are
my
catch—like catchin’ beaver skins! You got no right stealin’ what’s mine!”

“Those two don’t belong to anybody but their pa,” Zeke replied, his jaw twitching with anger. “Now you’d best cut them loose, or I’ll start remembering how it felt when your whip cut into my back!”