Sweet Prairie Passion (Savage Destiny) (7 page)

“That’s an almighty ugly statement from a man who hasn’t said two words since we left,” he replied. “There’s something about you I don’t like, Connely, and I’ve been trying to figure out what it was. Now I know what part of the reason is. It appears you and the preacher over there are of the same opinion on Indians. I’ve killed men for remarks like that, and you’re just lucky you’re a part of this train and I’ve already agreed to get you to Oregon. If I wasn’t a man of my word, I’d—”

“Zeke!” Olin interrupted. “Let it go. He’s not worth the trouble.”

Connely grinned to himself and walked to his wagon, feeling more confident now that they were so far from civilization that his identity and reasons for heading out of Tennessee would not be discovered. But he reminded himself he’d have to watch his mouth
about Indians until Cheyenne Zeke got them to their destination. He detested their dark skin and ignorance, but perhaps he’d be wise to continue his silence.

The more insulting remarks Abbie heard people sling at Zeke about Indians, the more she loved him and felt sorry for him. Connely and the preacher seemed the most prejudiced, but the Browns were not far behind with their mumbling about how an Indian, especially a half-breed, which was as bad or worse than being full-blooded, had no right ordering around their personal lives. Abbie hated them for their prejudice and was appalled that they could scorn his concern and be so ungrateful. Cheyenne Zeke had taken on a great responsibility for very little money, and all some of them could do was insult him and complain. She sometimes wondered why Zeke bothered to stay with them at all, struggling to help them push wagons out of mud, out riding the perimeter before sunrise, hunting game for them, keeping watch at night, and teaching them the rules of the trail when only a few of them truly appreciated what he did. She could not comprehend the real reason Zeke stayed on—to be sure that one important person made it to Oregon … a little girl who looked so much like the woman he’d loved …

Quentin Robards had LeeAnn completely enamored within those first few days. The more Abbie and their father preached to her about the man, the more obstinate she became, puckering up and pouting and not speaking to either of them. In her mind, Quentin Robards was the most wonderful man who’d ever come into her life, and that was that. And it seemed the more the man hung around, the colder LeeAnn
grew toward her own family. At night she teased Abbie about Zeke, insulting him and telling Abbie that if she was going to be foolish enough to love a worthless half-breed, then she shouldn’t preach to her sister about a fine gentleman like Quentin Robards. What hurt Abbie the most were her remarks that the “wild half-breed” would never see anything in Abbie anyway. “Whores are more his type, I expect,” she told Abbie one night. “I notice he hasn’t so much as blinked at you in days.”

What she’d said was true, and Abbie quietly cried herself to sleep that night, her heart heavy for the man she knew she could not have, the man she would always have to love secretly. She felt again the weight of the personality conflicts among the people of the train—the fact that some of them hated Zeke—and of the dilemma created by the fancy-smelling Quentin Robards who rode into their camp every night on his grand, black horse, while David Craig watched in the shadows. Abbie felt sorry for David, who tried so often to talk to LeeAnn or to be nice to her, only to be totally ignored. Abbie fell asleep with a heavy heart that night, praying quietly for her sister, for her father, and most of all, for the lonely half-breed called Cheyenne Zeke.

They soon had their first taste of bad luck when Bradley Hanes accidentally shot himself in the foot while cleaning a hand pistol. He let out a yelp and fell to the ground, while Mrs. Hanes screamed. The wagons having circled for the night, the accident interrupted the quiet evening and brought Zeke riding at a gallop from somewhere in the shadows. He dismounted
before his horse even came to a halt and ran up to Hanes. who by then had his boot off and was holding his ankle while trying not to break into tears from the pain.

“What happened here!” Zeke demanded as he knelt down beside the man and began examining his foot.

“My gun—it went off!” Hanes groaned. Zeke studied the foot a little longer, then picked up the boot and sighed when he studied the sole.

“Well, at least we won’t have to cut into you to get the bullet out. Look here. It went clean through your foot and lodged in the sole of your boot.”

Mrs. Hanes sighed with relief and suddenly burst into tears, while Zeke ordered someone to get some warm water. “We’ll wash it down good and pour some whiskey over it,” he told the others. “Kelsoe?”

“Yes, Zeke.”

“There’s a creek up ahead a ways, runs by a few cottonwood trees. Ride up there and see if you can find some moss. It has a way of bringing out the poison in a wound. We’ll pack the foot in moss before we bandage it.”

“Right, Zeke.”

Abbie watched, proud at the way Zeke took command of things and always knew what to do. Moss. She’d never heard of such a thing. It must be an old Indian remedy. She admired the Indians for the way in which they could live with the land and the elements and survive. How soft and pampered the whites seemed to be in comparison. Even these brave and hardy ones who ventured West knew so little about survival. Zeke looked up at the others.

“This man won’t be able to drive his animals for a few days. He’s got to stay off this foot,” he told them.

“I’ll take over while he’s disabled,” Robards spoke up, surprising Abbie with his offer to help. It was the first time he’d offered to do anything since they’d started out. He’d seldom even helped push out wagons, not wanting to get his fancy clothes muddied.

“I’m much obliged, Robards,” Hanes told the man. Zeke studied Robards a moment, and Abbie could tell he didn’t like the man either. But for the moment he kept his feelings to himself.

“All right,” he replied. “You sure you know how?”

“I think I can manage,” Robards replied, looking proudly over at LeeAnn, who smiled. It was then Abbie realized he’d only offered to make himself appear more manly in LeeAnn’s eyes.

“I’m sorry about this,” Hanes was telling Zeke. “I guess I shouldn’t have messed with that gun.”

“I told all of you once to leave sidearms alone,” Zeke replied. “Stick to rifles, and only use those when they’re really needed. You people are farmers and teachers and so forth—not gunmen. More folks get shot out here from their own guns than from any enemies, believe me.”

Someone brought the water, and soon Kelsoe was back with the moss. Hanes screamed with pain when Zeke poured the whiskey over his foot, then groaned as it was packed in moss and wrapped.

“What does the moss do?” Mrs. Hanes asked, warming more to the half-breed of whom she’d been so distrustful at first.

“Old Indian remedy,” Zeke replied. “Should help keep the foot from getting infected. I’m not sure how it
works, but it does.” He saw the concern in her eyes for her husband. All were aware of what could happen if gangrene set in. Hanes would lose his foot, perhaps his whole leg, and still he would most likely die. “Don’t you worry, ma’am. He’ll be okay. The moss will help a lot.”

“Thank you,” she replied quietly. “I’m glad you’re along. And I’m … sorry … for the remarks some of the others have made. I hope you’ll stay with us.”

Zeke nodded gratefully. “I made a deal, ma’am. I’m a man of my word.”

Just then Olin Wales rode into camp, and Abbie’s heart wrenched with jealousy at the sight of a lovely Indian girl astride the horse in front of him. Part of her legs were exposed where her doeskin dress came up, and Zeke approached Olin and the girl, giving her the once-over with pleasure in his eyes.

“What the hell have you got there?” he asked his friend. “And where have you been all day?”

Olin chuckled and climbed down; then he reached up and helped the girl down. The preacher watched the Indian girl, feeling an ache in his groin at the sight of her slender legs.

“You told me to ride behind again and make sure Rube Givens wasn’t followin’,” he told Zeke. “Didn’t find anything to indicate he was, but I did find this pretty little thing—bought her off a Chippewa brave back there. He was pullin’ her along with a rope, headin’ for Independence to sell her to a whorehouse.”

People gasped, and the Indian girl stood staring at Zeke, holding her head proudly. She was beautiful in shape and face, and was obviously frightened of what her next fate would be.

“When I seen how bad that Chip was treatin’ her, I felt kind of sorry for her. I powwowed with him, had a smoke, and found out he’d stole her a year or so ago from the Sioux. You know how the Sioux and Chippewa don’t get along.”

“I know,” Zeke replied, folding his arms and walking around the girl to study her, now looking like a proud brave with his captive. The girl watched him, obviously impressed by his stature and looks, promising favors with her eyes if he would help her.

“At any rate, he was plannin’ on sellin’ her for a prostitute, and I didn’t figure you’d go for that. There’s been enough of these pretty little things destroyed in the whorehouses, and she looked kind of proud and scared, you know? Come to find out, that Chip was the only man she’d ever been with, and I could tell she had no idea what he planned to do with her. I finally talked him into sellin’ her to me instead—convinced him I was payin’ him more than he’d make in town. And … uh … well, I did it partly for you, Zeke. I figured you wouldn’t want her taken to Independence.”

Zeke walked around to the front of her again, lifting her chin so she had to look up at him. “You did right,” he replied.

“Well, I owed you a little from that card game back in Independence, so I’m payin’ you off this way. She cost a lot, and she’s the … uh … grateful type, if you know what I mean. Figured since we’re headed into Sioux country, we can deliver her back to her own kind. She told me she cries to go home to her people.”

Zeke studied the girl’s eyes, then spoke softly to her in the Sioux tongue, and Abbie’s jealousy raged. The
girl answered, then Zeke said more, and she suddenly began crying and hugged him, as though deeply grateful. The preacher watched hungrily, and Morris Connely shook his head sneeringly and went to his wagon. The rest watched with mixed emotions, some feeling sorry for the girl and others considering her loose, Abbie hating her because she was Indian, just like Zeke. His kind—something she herself could never be. But then wasn’t he half white, and hadn’t he lived in Tennessee? Surely there was enough white in him for her to capture.

“You did right, Olin,” Zeke told the man as he patted the Sioux woman’s shoulder. “We’ll see she gets back to her people.”

“Well, in the meantime, she’s yours. She’ll give you enough pleasure out of gratefulness to make up for what I owe you.”

Zeke just chuckled and shook his head, gently pushing the woman away and wiping at her tears as he said something more to her in the Sioux tongue. Abbie fought her own tears of jealousy.

“That slut has to go!” the preacher shouted. “These Christian people cannot mingle with this loose heathen! She will taint the young girls!”

The Indian girl looked frightened, as Zeke whirled on the man. “She stays!” he commanded. “She’s been badly abused and she wants to go home, and I’m seeing she gets there. And if you people are really Christian, you’ll want the same for the poor girl.” He glared at the preacher again. “And I’d better not catch you near her!”

The preacher’s eyes widened. “How dare you even suggest such a thing?”

“I know your kind better than you think. She’s my property now. You remember that! The Indians have a certain understanding in these things, and I won’t bother to try to make folks like you understand. But till I get her back to her people, she belongs to me, and what I do with her is nobody’s business!”

Others whispered as, to Abbie’s bewilderment, Zeke led the Indian girl directly up to her.

“She says her name is Yellow Grass,” he told Abbie. “I’d be obliged if you’d let her walk along with you and your pa, and let her help you around camp, Miss Abbie. I’ve got no time for her, and you’re the only one I’d trust to be kind to her. It’s not her fault what she’s been through.”

He seemed to read Abbie’s thoughts, and he gave her a little smile. She reddened at the realization that he’d sensed her jealousy, blushing deeply. Cheyenne Zeke had barely given her the time of day the whole trip, yet she’d grown to love him more and more; and the worst part was that she suspected he knew it. That was why he’d stayed away. But then maybe it hurt to look at her because she looked like his wife.

“I’d … be glad to help you out, Zeke,” she responded faltering as she fought to hide her jealousy of Yellow Grass. “She’s … very pretty. You should keep her.”

Zeke grinned more. “I know what I want to keep and what I don’t want to keep,” he replied. Her heart leaped at the words, and he vanished into the darkness.

To Abbie’s relief, Zeke seemed to have no desire to accept the pleasures of Yellow Grass’s gratefulness,
nor did he have the time. During the next two weeks, Abbie and the Indian girl managed to set up their own sign language and got along quite well. Abbie began to like the industrious Sioux woman. She was much more help than LeeAnn, who was now totally absorbed in Quentin Robards. He hung around every night, often eating their food without offering any sort of payment.

The days were hot and the nights cold, and Abbie worried about her father, who slept on the ground under the wagon most of the time. And she worried about Zeke, even though she told herself it was foolish. After all, a man like Zeke had spent most of his life sleeping under the stars. She wished she could be beside him to keep him warm at night; but that was a silly little girl’s dream, and her heart ached with unrequited live.

As if the daily heat and insects and monotony were not enough, the friction between Quentin Robards and David Craig grew worse and developed into an open confrontation one evening when David came to ask LeeAnn if she would take a walk with him. Seconds later Robards was right there, looking haughtily at David and telling him that he didn’t have any right moving in on another man’s woman, especially since he was a boy who wasn’t even dry behind the ears yet. LeeAnn’s eyes lit up with pleasure at Robards’ obvious jealousy, and David Craig exploded with his own, taking a swing at Robards. LeeAnn screamed and jumped back, and David lit into Robards with a strength and skill that surprised them all, including Robards. He did a good job of messing up Robards’ face before Zeke came thundering up on his horse from out of the darkness to stop the fight, grabbing
David from behind with powerful arms, while Kelsoe pulled Robards back.