“You’re some woman, Grandma. I can see why Grandpa Zeke loved you.”
Her eyes teared. “That’s the best compliment I’ve ever received from a grandchild.”
“I wish you lived closer. I hope you’ll stay all summer.”
She patted his back. “I’ll stay a good long time, Zeke. I promise.”
Five
Abbie set an apple pie on the long picnic table Morgan had built by hand. The table was spread out under a cottonwood tree in front of the house, a tree that had grown considerably since Abbie was last there and which shed a good deal of shade over the table. There would not be enough room for everyone at the table, so some would sit in chairs on the porch or on the steps, with plates on their laps.
They had all been here two days and up to now had eaten in shifts. Today they would all eat together, one royal feast the women had worked hard to prepare, except for the meat, a side of beef that Morgan and the other men had cooked over hot coals for nearly twenty-four hours. The air was rich with the wonderful smell of sizzling meat, hot biscuits and pies. Everyone gathered, children laughing, the older boys joking and teasing each other. Last night Wolf’s Blood and Swift Arrow had performed the Cheyenne war dance for the children, told stories about the “old days” of freedom for the Cheyenne, stories that had made Abbie cry as she remembered. She knew it felt good to Swift Arrow and Wolf’s Blood to be all Indian again, to remind the children of their heritage. At the reservation, both of them often came to the school to teach, to make sure the Indian children did not forget their ancient customs and language.
The family made a circle around the table, all twenty-four of them. A few feet away stood three hired hands who worked for Morgan, waiting for the family to say a prayer before they, too, joined in on the feast.
“Father in Heaven,” Abbie said, “some of us call You Jehovah and pray to You through Christ, some of us call You Maheo, but all of us know You are the same God who watches over all of us. You have brought us here together, carried us through tears and heartache, and we thank You for this moment of happiness we are able to share, thank You for the family members we still have with us. We pray for the loved ones who have”—Zeke! It still seemed unreal that such a man could be dead. And Lillian … little seven-year-old Lillian … always so frail—“for loved ones who have gone before us. We know they are with us still … in spirit.” Swift Arrow squeezed her hand. “We also pray for loved ones who live but who are not with us, namely our son, brother, uncle … Jeremy. May he feel our love, know that he will always be welcome if he …”
She hesitated, hearing a rattling noise in the distance. She glanced toward the hill, where she had often watched for Zeke. A buggy was approaching. She could not see who was in it, but somehow she knew. “Jeremy,” she said softly, her heart pounding harder, tears welling in her eyes. She gazed across the table at Wolf’s Blood, who also had turned to look. “Thank You, Jesus,” she finished. “Amen.” She glanced around at the others. “All of you, stay here. And please, this is a very special day. If that’s Jeremy coming, then God Himself brought him. I don’t want anyone saying anything that might make him want to leave. We have a royal feast set out here. Let’s enjoy it, and enjoy the fact that the entire family is together at last.”
Wolf’s Blood turned back around to meet her gaze. She could see the smoldering anger in his dark eyes.
“Please, Wolf’s Blood. Do this for me, and for your father. He would welcome Jeremy, in spite of how badly the boy hurt him. You know that.”
Wolf’s Blood sighed deeply. “You forgive so easily.” He shook his long, black hair behind his shoulders. “Do not worry. I will not spoil things. I will have a talk with Jeremy later—alone.”
Abbie gave him a warning look before leaving the circle. She ran toward the buggy. A stranger drove it, someone Jeremy had hired in Pueblo to bring him here, she supposed. The woman was a stranger, but she had no doubt who the other man was, even though he’d only been seventeen when she’d seen him last. He was heavier, in the way any man fills out beyond his teen years, but there was no mistaking the blue eyes, the wavy, sandy-colored hair. He said something to the driver, and the man drew the buggy to a halt.
Jeremy stared at his mother, then slowly climbed out of the buggy. He was astounded at how she looked, still beautiful for her age, truly hardly any different than when he’d left all those years ago. What was it he saw in her eyes? Shouldn’t she be angry? Unforgiving? She was just a little heavier than he remembered but still well shaped, looking tidy as she always did, standing stiff and straight in a yellow calico dress, very proper … and oh, so strong, a woman of true pioneer spirit. My God, what she has suffered, he thought. He had not forgotten the hard times of those early years. Yet she’d been so devoted to his father. He had no doubts about how deeply Zeke Monroe’s death must have affected her, but Abbie, being Abbie, had made it through, stood here now as strong as ever … and he could swear she seemed happy to see him.
Abbie reached out to him. “Jeremy! You came! Thank God you came! Come and let me hold you, son.”
He could hardly make his legs move. Why had he stayed away so long? Why had he waited so long to explain his heritage to Mary? He’d been so sure she would leave him. He had let that fear, and his shame in his Indian blood keep him away from his precious mother all these years. He had allowed it to take him away from the ranch at a time when his father dearly needed his help, and now he would never have the chance to tell his father he loved him, never be able to feel the man’s strong arms around him. But sometimes a mother’s arms could be just as comforting.
He walked toward her, and in a moment she was in his arms, weeping against his chest, and he, too, was crying. “Na-hko-eehe,” he said, surprised he’d remembered the Cheyenne word for Mother. Abbie wept harder, clinging tightly to him.
“You were so loved, Jeremy,” she told him. “So much more … than you ever knew. He’s … here, Jeremy. Zeke is here. I feel his spirit everywhere, and I … I know he’s holding you at this very moment, just as I am.”
The words cut like a knife, and Jeremy broke down, unable to control his own emotions. “I love you, Mother,” he finally managed to say. “Not a day has gone by … that I haven’t thought about you … and that’s the God’s truth. The same goes for … my father. I’ll never forgive myself … for deserting him like I did. I never … I just never imagined a man like Zeke Monroe could die.”
“We all meet death, son. No one is immune from it, not even men like Zeke. I was so afraid … I, too, would die without seeing you again.”
She pulled away, wiping at her eyes, and Jeremy handed her a clean handkerchief from a pocket of his tweed suit jacket. By then his wife was there, handing him a handkerchief from her handbag. “I’m Mary,” she told Abbie, “Jeremy’s wife. And I must say, you’re even lovelier than Jeremy’s description of you. But you’re so much tinier than I had pictured.”
Abbie smiled through her tears. “And what had you pictured?”
“I’m not sure. I guess, from the way Jeremy described what a strong, resilient woman you are, how you’ve lived with Indians and all … I pictured a big, stout woman who would be rather frightening and overbearing.”
Abbie laughed lightly, glancing at Jeremy. “What on earth have you told her about me?”
He watched her lovingly. “Only the truth, that you’re one in a million. There probably isn’t another woman in this country who could have put up with Zeke Monroe and survived what you’ve been through.”
Abbie shook her head, wiping at her nose and eyes again before her vision cleared enough that she could take a good look at Mary. She was lovely, with an air of elegance about her that spoke of someone who’d grown up in wealth, Abbie decided. Her soft green dress was simple in design, but obviously of fine quality material, and it fit as though specially made for her. Her straw hat was trimmed with dried flowers and a green ribbon that matched her dress. She was slender, her ivory-skinned face showing rouge
in just the right places, her gentle brown eyes sparkling with sincerity and love—and wet with her own tears.
“Thank you for welcoming Jeremy as you have,” Mary told her. “This was not easy for him. He didn’t stay away out of meanness or because he didn’t care. It was because of me, Mrs. Monroe. He was afraid to tell me, afraid he’d lose me because I come from a wealthy family in Denver and he figured they would—”
“You needn’t explain,” Abbie interrupted. “I understand these things far better than you could ever imagine.” She looked up at Jeremy. “After a while you were afraid to come back simply because you’d been gone so long and were ashamed.”
Jeremy’s eyes teared anew. “I didn’t know if I was wanted.”
Abbie closed her eyes. “Jeremy, how could you think such a thing? I wrote so many letters.”
He sighed deeply. “I know. I couldn’t keep them because I was afraid Mary would find them. I just … I couldn’t bear the pain in Father’s eyes, and the rest of the family, I figured they’d rather not see me again, especially Wolf’s Blood. I saw them, Wolf’s Blood and Father both, back in seventy-three in Dodge City. It was by accident. I got off a train there, and I was in a saloon with a couple of other railroad men who were bragging about chasing off some Indians.” His eyes showed his pain. “Then I looked across the room, and there sat Father and Wolf’s Blood, watching me. I’ve never been so devastated or ashamed. We went outside and talked, and the hatred in Wolf’s Blood’s eyes … the pain in Father’s—those looks have haunted me for years. Then I met Mary, and she was so sweet and gracious, and I loved her. I didn’t want to lose her.”
Abbie watched him lovingly. “Surely you knew you could have had children who looked Indian. How did you expect to explain that?”
Mary turned away.
“Mary can’t have children, Mother, although we didn’t know that when we married. I guess I was just too much in love to think that far ahead.”
Abbie remembered how it had hurt after Jason was born and she’d had surgery to ensure she could have no more children. “I’m sorry, Mary. Thank you for loving my son as you do.”
The woman took a deep breath. “Jeremy has suffered more than you know, Mrs. Monroe. You don’t realize how much it means to him for the family to welcome him.”
Abbie took hold of her hand. “You are family, too, Mary, so you certainly must call me Abbie.” She looked up at Jeremy. “We were just sitting down to a royal feast, a side of beef, apple pies. We were saying grace, and I was praying for you and”—new tears formed in her eyes—“and there you were!” She looked him over. “You look well, strong.” She put her hands on her hips. “And successful. You’re still a railroad executive?”
He nodded, wiping at his eyes again. “I am.”
“And I suppose you have a beautiful home in Denver.”
He shrugged. “Yes, it’s quite nice. I’d like to show it to you. You’re part of the reason I’ve accomplished what I have, you know. You taught me well, gave me as good an education as I could have gotten in any regular school.”
Abbie smiled. “I tried my best. Of course, some of you didn’t care much about learning.”
Jeremy lost his smile. “You mean Wolf’s Blood. Is he here?”
“Oh, yes, he’s here.”
Jeremy sighed. “He’s hated me ever since Dodge City. He wanted to light into me then, but Dad wouldn’t let him.”
“He does not hate you, Jeremy. And if he wants to have it out with you, he’ll have to go through me first!”
Jeremy could not hold back a chuckle. “Now, there’s a picture. You stopping Wolf’s Blood from whatever he wants to do—anybody stopping him.”
“Come, both of you. Come down and join us. Even your uncle Dan is here with his wife Rebecca. I want to introduce each and every family member to Mary.” She met Mary’s eyes. “No fancy living here, Mary.”
“I don’t mind. It might be rather fun bunking with all the women—Jeremy told me what the accommodations might be. I am sure everyone will be full of conversation, and much more interesting than the pampered fluff of Denver. I get so bored at some of the parties there. Maybe after learning everything about the family and your past, I can curl somebody’s ears with the stories I’ll have to tell when I go back.”
Abbie smiled. She liked this wife Jeremy had chosen. In spite of an apparently wealthy upbringing, the woman had grit. Abbie looked at her son, holding her chin proudly. “You have chosen a woman not so different from one you’d have needed if you had stayed here to run the ranch, Jeremy. In spite of making a far different life from the rest of us, deep inside you are not so different. You’ve fought to be the best at what you do, and it’s your inborn strength and determination that helped you. You got that from Zeke. He hated the railroad. You know that. But he knew it couldn’t be stopped, and he’d be proud to see what you’ve made of yourself. It was only the fact that you were ashamed of your Indian blood that saddened him. It made him think you were ashamed of having him for a father.”
Jeremy shook his head. “Never. I just … I saw so much prejudice, Mother, saw what the Cheyenne suffered, what you suffered for being married to an Indian. I figured it was impossible for me to make something of myself if people knew I had Indian blood. After a while it just got easier to say nothing at all, until I saw Father that night in Dodge City, saw the way he looked at me.” He blinked back more tears. “The terrible disappointment.”
“That is in the past, and he understood better than you know, Jeremy. Now let’s go. The biscuits will get cold.” She turned and headed down the hill.
Jeremy paid the buggy driver, asking him to take the rig below and unload the luggage, then drew a deep breath and headed down the hill with Mary, watching the family, feeling their stares. He realized he didn’t even know any of the children. When he’d left, Margaret’s baby, Zeke, had only been a year old. His grip on Mary’s hand tightened as they drew closer, and some of his nervousness eased when Margaret and LeeAnn left the others and came to greet him with hugs and kisses and a shower of questions. They welcomed Mary with open arms. Then came Ellen, then his little brother Jason.
Jeremy was astonished at their ages, had always pictured them as they were when he left. Jason had only been eleven. Now he was twenty-eight, and a doctor! His uncles, Dan and Swift Arrow, so much older! Abbie lined them all up, introducing them all to Mary.
Through all the introductions, Wolf’s Blood remained standing quietly at a distance. Mary was taken aback by the sight of the man Jeremy had told her looked so much like his father. If that was the case, then Zeke Monroe truly had been very Indian. In all her years here in Colorado, she had never even met a real Indian. How strange! Jeremy said the Cheyenne once roamed all over Colorado. Now there were none left.
“And this is Jennifer, Wolf’s Blood’s new wife,” Abbie was saying, introducing a beautiful young woman with red hair and green eyes. “These are Wolf’s Blood’s children by his Apache wife who was killed several years ago, Hawk and Iris, fourteen and thirteen. And this is Emily, Jennifer’s daughter by her first husband.”
So, she had met them all … all but Wolf’s Blood. Mary had felt his eyes on them, knew Jeremy felt the gaze too, and that he probably wanted to avoid this final introduction. Wolf’s Blood remained a few feet away, waiting his turn. Abbie led them up to where he stood proudly, arms folded. He wore buckskin pants and just a vest because of the hot day. His bare chest and arms showed hard muscle, very dark skin. He was a handsome specimen of a man, who looked every bit the warrior, and Mary couldn’t help but wonder how safe she’d be if this were twenty years ago and Wolf’s Blood and Swift Arrow still rode with the infamous Dog Soldiers of the Cheyenne.
“My God,” Jeremy muttered, staring at Wolf’s Blood. “You look …” He turned to his mother, unable to keep more tears from coming to his eyes. “It’s like looking at Father,” he said in a voice gruff from emotion.
Abbie turned to look at Wolf’s Blood. “Yes,” she
answered. “Anyone who wants to have known Zeke, has only to meet his firstborn son to see that Zeke Monroe most certainly still lives.”
Mary just stared as Abbie introduced them. Wolf’s Blood looked her over, and she could see why Jeremy was nervous about his older brother’s reaction. Here was a man who had raided and killed at one time, a man who was obviously very proud to be Cheyenne and who probably could not understand why anyone would want to hide his Indian blood.
“Welcome to the family,” he told Mary.
“Thank you. I am proud to be a part of it,” she answered wisely. She saw a flicker of appreciation and acceptance in Wolf’s Blood’s eyes, dark eyes that he then turned to his brother. They simply looked at each other for several silent seconds before Wolf’s Blood finally spoke.
“So, my brother, you have finally come home. You have made our mother’s heart glad.”
Jeremy nodded, again feeling the sickening sense of shame as Wolf’s Blood’s eyes drilled into him. He knew the remark was meant to hurt, that behind the statement Wolf’s Blood was saying he had broken their father’s heart. No two people could be closer than Wolf’s Blood and Zeke had been.
Mary spoke up. “I am the reason Jeremy didn’t come back sooner. He loved and missed his family very much, but he was afraid to tell me the truth, afraid I would stop loving him. For a while I was all he had, or so he thought.”
“You don’t need to speak for me, Mary.” Jeremy stepped closer. “We have a lot to talk about, Wolf’s Blood. Now isn’t the time, but if you want to get it out of your system and take a swing at me, go ahead and do it. I don’t blame you.”
Eagle’s Song Page 6