She shook her head. “I am sure that you would. But I don’t want to live without you, Swift Arrow, and I fear something worse has happened. I might need you even more than I realize.”
He kissed her lightly. “We will take one thing at a time. Since being forced onto a reservation, I have learned to take one day at a time and not think too far into the future. We will talk with Zeke once more, tell him how much he is loved by the others in the family. He is young. He will survive this, just as all the Monroes survive the challenges that come to them. We will then go and get the deed and make sure all is taken care of. If something more has happened, we will find out about it when we reach home, and together we will survive that, too.”
Her eyes teared more. “I think it’s Wolf’s Blood.” She shivered, resting her head against his broad chest. Swift Arrow circled his arms around her. “I heard a wolf howling last night,” she told him. “I said something to Margaret about it, and she said there have been no wolves around here for the last couple of years. She never heard it. Only I did.”
Swift Arrow kissed her hair. He fully believed in contact from the spirit world, and that the animal spirits could bring messages. He had always been very close to Wolf’s Blood, had taught him the Cheyenne way, as any honored uncle would do under Indian custom. Wolf’s Blood had lived with him for several years, warred with him. He did not doubt he’d been as close to the boy as his own father had been, and he, too, had a deep sense that something was wrong. He had not mentioned it to Abbie, for fear of upsetting her, and now here she was, having her own suspicions. That was part of what he loved about her. Her heart and spirit were Indian.
“I heard it also,” he told her. He sat down, pulled her down into the soft grass, moved on top of her and studied her brown eyes, eyes full of surprise and even more worry. She knew there was almost certainly something wrong if he, too, heard the wolf. “Wolf’s Blood and the real wolves are taku-wakan,” he told her, using the Sioux words for “kindred spirits.” He had lived and made war with the Sioux for many years, knew their language as well as his own Cheyenne tongue.
“Swift Arrow—”
He cut off her words with another kiss, this one deeper, more demanding. “I will tell you how it is, my wife. Something is in the air, something tragic. It does not only involve Zeke and possibly losing this ranch. It involves your firstborn son. Whatever is to be, whatever lies waiting for us, we have only this moment. Perhaps our hearts will be too full of sorrow to think of desire, but for now we can pray we are wrong. For now we are here, together, alone, and I think you need the strength that comes from being one with your man. Perhaps soon I will lose you to some kind of sorrow that will take you away from me, so for now I want my woman, all of her, her heart, her spirit, her body. Let us take this moment to just be with each other and put all fears away, Abbie.”
She studied his dark eyes, knew he was right. This could be their only moment of sweet peace, and this might be her last visit to this special place. “I wish to be buried here,” she told him. “Remember that.”
“I will remember.” He kissed her again. “But for now we are both very much alive, and I remember a young girl of sixteen who looked so very pretty in an Indian tunic. Even then I loved her.”
He pushed up her dress, and Abbie was lost in him, his every movement a gentle command, his long, black hair brushing against her face as he deftly removed her drawers. They did not need preliminaries, did not even need to fully undress. He unlaced his buckskin leggings and lowered them, untied his loincloth, and in a moment he was inside of her. Somehow they both knew they needed this. They drew strength from it, and perhaps they would need that strength over the next few days or weeks.
“Ne-mehotatse,” Swift Arrow groaned.
“And I love you,” Abbie answered. She relished the feel of him inside of her, and as always, when he made love to her, she experienced brief flashes of another man … another time.
Swift Arrow nuzzled his face against her breasts, and she closed her eyes and grasped his hair, whispering his name. Above them an eagle circled … silently … so as not to disturb them.
Ten
“I’m going away. I don’t know how far or where, but it’s the only thing left to do.”
Margaret and Morgan sat beside Zeke’s bed, holding each other’s hands, both feeling helpless to heal their son’s broken heart and battered pride. “We love you, son, and we need you here,” Morgan told him. “But God knows I understand the things a young man goes through when different bloods run in his veins. I’m your father, and I’m supposed to be the one to give you good advice. In this case I’m at a loss. I want to keep this place, out of pure stubbornness and pride, because it would break your grandmother’s heart to let it go … and because it just isn’t fair that men like Carson Temple should get away with brutalizing others and forcing them to do things against their wills. But I also want my son’s happiness. I could have told you it doesn’t lie in loving the daughter of a man like Temple. You don’t think it’s possible right now, but you will get over that girl. You’re only eighteen and—”
“I’ll never get over her!” Zeke blinked back tears. His upper torso was still covered with scabs and bruises, his face, still swollen in places, a mass of scratches and cuts. “But I’m determined to do the last thing that sonofabitch Temple expects. I’ll let him think he’s won, but actually we will win, because I’m strong enough to do it. I’m strong enough to do exactly what he asks and get out of Georgie’s life. And you know why?”
“I think we already know, Zeke,” Margaret answered. She could not help wishing she could kill Carson Temple. For the past ten days since Temple had dragged Zeke home, she had lived in agony for his physical and emotional pain, and she had begged and pleaded with an enraged Morgan every day not to try to avenge his son’s beating. Besides hurting for her son, she hurt for Morgan, a man who had seen so much abuse himself, a proud, strong man who again had to swallow that pride; yet his ability to do so made him even more courageous in her eyes. Now it seemed Zeke was very much like his father that way.
Zeke’s hands balled into fists. He had called his parents into his room to tell them his decision, and he was determined to be strong about it. “I’ll leave because I love Georgie so much, I don’t want her to suffer. I don’t matter in this. She’s white, wealthy, educated, beautiful … and she’s got a heart of gold. Why should she have to put up with name-calling and ridicule? I love her too much to keep seeing her. After what happened with my uncle up in Cheyenne …” He shook his head. “I don’t know. It just made me realize that things don’t ever change much and probably won’t for a long time, maybe never. Look what white settlement did to the Indians, and they got away with it, because for some reason government and the law allow Indians to be treated badly. There will always be men like Carson Temple, men who’ll never accept us as worthy, and they’ll keep getting away with what they do. It’s got me all confused and torn inside, and it isn’t fair to Georgie for me to become more serious about her until I really know myself, until I’m a full man and know how to deal with all this. By then she’ll probably”—how he hated the thought of any other man taking Georgeanne to his bed!—“she’ll probably have found somebody else, somebody more suited to her.”
Margaret put a hand to her dark hair, feeling very tired, beaten. They had received the news about Wolf’s Blood and now besides her son, she had her brother to worry about. “We don’t know this girl, Zeke. I wish you would have told us about her, but then you probably would not have taken our advice to stop seeing her. For you to make a decision like this … it only shows us how mature you have become.”
“It’s hard for me to believe Carson Temple could have a daughter as sweet and accepting as you say this Georgeanne is,” Morgan said, rising. “She sounds rather idealistic to me, and the dreams of idealists usually last only until something comes along to shatter them, like what happened here. This could be the best decision you ever made, because after
a while this girl might have become disenchanted, doubting her decision.” He walked to a window, folding his arms and looking outside. “By now her father has ranted and raved and filled her mind with falsities, preached at her about the folly of her ways. By now she, too, is probably thinking it’s best you two forget each other. Maybe her father has already sent her away.”
Zeke felt sick at the thought. If only he could see her once more, talk to her, explain his decision … tell her it had nothing to do with how much he loved her, for he did, and he always would. “You would have both liked her, I’m sure of it. She’s every bit as wonderful as I already told you. She sees the brutality in her father, believes it’s his fault her mother committed suicide. He apparently is capable of being cruel to Georgie, too. Although she told me he’s always treated her well, that day he caught us together, he hit her.” He shook his head, aching with a need to kill. “I’m not going to put her through any more hurt and humiliation, either from her father or other people. I’m going to get out of her life, save this ranch for Grandma Abbie and for you. I’m going to show Carson Temple just how strong I really am.” He rested his head against a pillow. “Maybe if I get away from here, go to the mountains, I’ll find some answers. I want what’s best for you, for Grandma, for this ranch and for Georgeanne. If I try to keep seeing her, a lot of people will suffer, including her. This way makes it easier on everybody.”
Morgan shook his head. “I hope you know how badly I want to avenge what that man did to you, Zeke. I don’t want you to think me a coward.”
Zeke ran a hand through his dark hair, wincing at the pain in his arm. “I’d never think that of you. I love you, Father. I don’t want you to try to avenge this. That’s just what Temple would like to see you do, and you can bet he’s ready and waiting. If something happened to you, I’d never forgive myself. And Mother needs you, while Grandma Abbie doesn’t need any more heartache right now. I know she feels she’s needed here, and she has to bring back that deed, but now she’s got the awful tragedy of Wolf’s Blood and Jennifer to contend with. I don’t know how she manages to put up with so much.”
“My mother is one of the strongest women I know,” Margaret answered, “but she isn’t getting any younger and I do worry about how all this will affect her. Wolf’s Blood was very, very special to her. He was like my father in so many ways, actions, beliefs, looks, temperament. And now there are Hawk and Iris to think about. How awful for them! And poor Emily has lost her mother.” She closed her eyes. “None of us knew just how significant the reunion really would be, after all.”
She worried about her mother, who was probably in Cheyenne now. Thank God she had LeeAnn and Joshua and Swift Arrow. What a terrible thing this was for Iris and Hawk, but at least they, too, had their grandmother, and now Jeremy. Thank God Jeremy and Wolf’s Blood had reconciled before this happened. At least each member of the family had someone to whom to turn for comfort. They weren’t so scattered that any of them had to be completely alone. Still … Zeke! Her precious son! He would be alone if he left home as he’d said he’d do. “Where will you go, Zeke? You must keep in touch with us, let us know you’re all right. I hate the thought of you being away from here, alone. You’ve never been away from this ranch. Life can be hard out there, Zeke. I know better than some.”
Zeke saw the shame and hurt in his mother’s eyes. She was such a good woman. The hurt she had suffered over the white man she thought loved her must have been terrible to have made her run off to Denver and turn to prostitution. He suddenly realized she well knew how he was hurting over Georgeanne. “I’ll be all right. I’ll find work somewhere, but I won’t go to a big city like Denver. I’ll go someplace more quiet, up in the mountains. I promise to write and let you know where I end up.”
Morgan turned from the window, his eyes red from tears. “I’m so sorry, son. I feel like I’ve let you down somehow. I should go with you, but I can’t leave your mother, the ranch, Nathan and Lance.”
Zeke grimaced as he shifted, moving his legs over the side of the bed. “No. Even if you could leave, I wouldn’t want you to go. I love you, but I need to be alone, to think about this whole thing and learn to live without Georgie, figure out who the hell I really am, what I want to do with my life. Grandma Abbie says there is a purpose in all things that happen in life. Maybe God has some kind of purpose in this. Maybe there is something out there waiting for me which I don’t yet know about.”
“You will come home again,” Margaret said, pleading in her voice. “Promise me.”
Zeke studied her flawless complexion, and he could easily see how beautiful she must have been when his father met her in a brothel in Denver. He nodded. “I promise. Heck, I couldn’t stay away forever. I might even come back here and take over the ranch someday. This is just something I have to do for now. If I’m going to forget about Georgeanne, I have to get far away from here for a while.”
Forget. How in hell was he going to forget? Already he ached to hold her again, hear her voice, see her smile, taste her lips … “I’ll come back,” he promised again. He gritted his teeth against the pain as he tried to rise, and instantly his parents were there, each taking an arm.
“You shouldn’t get out of that bed,” Margaret told him. “You’re still much too weak.”
“I intend to get stronger as fast as I can. The sooner I leave, the better. I want to walk around a little, and I want to talk to Nathan and Lance, explain to my brothers how much I love them and that I’ll be back.”
“They’ll miss you, son,” Morgan told him. “They both look up to you.”
Zeke swallowed against tears at the thought of leaving this place, the only home he’d ever known. In all his eighteen years he had been no farther than Pueblo. He refused to let his poor, worried parents know how scared he was. He had been man enough to think he could fall in love with Georgie, man enough to want her in every way any man wanted a woman. He’d thought somehow it would have been magical, easy. Now he realized what a fool he’d been, what a terrible risk he had taken. He might have cost his parents their very lives, at the least the ranch, the beautiful horses Morgan worked so hard to breed and raise … this land that had meant so much to his grandpa and grandma. He’d even hurt Georgeanne. He should have listened to that little voice of warning the very first time he’d set eyes on her, but she’d been so easy to talk to, so pretty, so open and accepting.
He had to forget her. How he’d do it, he had no idea. He just had to be strong. It would save a lot of people a lot of suffering. One thing was sure, though, he’d never forget or forgive Carson Temple, and he would never stop praying that somehow, someday, that man would get what was coming to him!
It rained lightly, uncommon for southern Wyoming in early August; but the weather seemed to fit the mood. Iris and Hawk stood at their stepmother’s grave, their spirits as gloomy as the weather. Abbie watched them, unable to do anything to soothe their broken hearts.
Her biggest worry was how Hawk would react to this. Like grandfather, like father, like son. The bitterness in his eyes was frightening, but what hurt most was the terrific loneliness she saw in them as well. He’d been so close to his father, and now Wolf’s Blood was gone from his life, Hawk’s only consolation being the fact that his father was, as far as they knew, still alive.
Dan had waited until they’d all arrived before holding Jennifer’s funeral service, and now a preacher spoke over her, but Abbie hardly heard him. How many times over the years had she turned to the Bible herself, her only consolation. Knowing that someday she and all her loved ones would be in a better place, where they would at last have only love and peace, was the only thing that had held her up through all the losses she’d suffered over the years—through the two worst losses, her little Lillian … and Zeke.
In spite of her own loneliness and that of Hawk and Iris—and poor Dan, losing his only child—the loneliest person of all had to be Wolf’s Blood, out there … somewhere … grieving for Jennifer … longing to be wit
h his children. He would hide as long as possible, she was sure, because he would never allow himself to die by hanging. That was the worst way for an Indian to die. He could ride up to authorities and challenge them, let himself be shot down. She knew her son well. That day would probably come, but he would hold out as long as possible because of the children. He would wait until they were older, knowing that his death would be too hard on them at such tender ages. And he would want to know what they did with their lives.
That was her biggest hope. Wolf’s Blood would surely find a way to get in touch with her, because he would want to know about his children. Oh, yes, she would see her son again, and until that time he would survive because he’d once lived off the land for years.
She held tightly to Swift Arrow’s hand, knowing this was equally hard on him, for Wolf’s Blood was as much his son as he’d been Zeke’s. She glanced at him, seeing the tears on his cheeks. Things like this, and like what had happened to young Zeke, were hard on such men, men who believed it right for them to avenge wrongs committed against their own. She knew it took great control on his part to stand and do nothing.
On her other side stood Jeremy. He’d come along to be with her and with his niece and nephew. Jeremy, wayward son, now as much a part of the family as if he’d never left them, so much more loyal and loving and concerned than she’d ever thought he would be.
He placed an arm around her, and she knew he was feeling a deep loss. He’d had only those brief weeks to truly get to know his oldest brother, and now … LeeAnn stood weeping in Joshua’s arms, and Matthew stood next to them, holding little Abbie. Three-year-old Lonnie clung to his mother’s skirts, sniffling, not sure just what was wrong but afraid because his mother was crying. Dan stood near the minister, devastation on his handsome but ageing face. At least he had Emily, who was being consoled by Rebecca. Jason stood alone, wiping at tears, and Abbie thought what a quiet, devoted son her youngest was, silently strong. In his entire life he had never caused her one bit of trouble or concern.
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