“Hi, Hawk.” She stepped a little closer. “I’m … glad you’re back, but I’m real sorry … About your father and mother. My brother told me about it. It must be terrible for you—for your whole family. I thought you’d come home all happy about the reunion. I was going to ask you about it, but I know you must be so sad inside … and you probably don’t want to tell me about it.”
“That’s right.” He walked past her into the barn to get a grooming brush for the horses. Arianne followed him inside.
“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, “about your stepmother. And your father, if he gets caught—”
“He won’t get caught! Nobody catches the great warrior Wolf’s Blood if he does not want to be found! They want to hang him! He will never let that happen! Not my father!”
His eyes teared on the last words, and Arianne wished she knew what to do or say to make him feel better. “I … I hope you’re right, Hawk, I really do. I don’t want anything to happen to him either.”
He picked up the brush and charged past her, back into the corral to brush down Lone Eagle. “Why don’t you just go away?” he said, vigorously yanking the brush through the horse’s mane.
This was not how Arianne had pictured his homecoming. She had wanted him to come back before she herself had to leave, and she thought perhaps they could deepen their friendship. She also wanted him to promise again to write to her. Did he have any idea how the sight of him flustered her, made her feel warm all over, made her stomach flip? She wanted to touch him, feel him kiss her again. She had not forgotten that first warm kiss.
“I only came over here to tell you how sorry I am about what happened. I waited a few days to give you time alone. I’m sorry if I made you mad, Hawk.”
He quickly wiped at unwanted tears, but remained turned away from her. “Quit being sorry for everything,” he answered. “None of it is your fault. Just go back home. You shouldn’t even be here. Your brother wouldn’t like it.”
She shrugged. “I don’t care. I like you, Hawk. I wanted you to know you have a friend, and I still want to write to you—”
“Don’t be silly!” he interrupted. He turned, anger and bitterness in his dark eyes. “Do you want to end up like my stepmother?”
She frowned, her heart pounding with dread that she had made him angry. He surely hated her, the way he was looking at her. “What?”
“She was a white woman married to an Indian! And now she’s dead! My cousin, Zeke, down in Colorado, he was beaten up and dragged behind a horse because he liked a white girl! My grandma Abbie told me. It happened after we left the reunion. Does that tell you something, Arianne? You shouldn’t want to be friends with me, because I am Indian. I am proud to be Indian, but most folks from your world look at us differently.”
He stepped closer, and Arianne’s eyes widened. She wondered if he was going to hit her. For a moment she saw the wildness in him, and she thought about his father. He’d killed three men, even scalped two of them!
Hawk pointed the brush at her as he spoke. “We’re not different!” he growled, his eyes red with tears. “We’re just as smart and can do just as well in the white man’s world as the best of them, and I’m going to prove it! I’m going to Denver, Arianne, to study law! I might even go all the way to Harvard or Yale. Uncle Jeremy is going to send me. And when I’m through, I’ll fight for the rights of my people. I’ll even be able to defend men like my father! He saw his wife shot down as she stood right next to him, with a bullet meant for him! How could he not be angry enough to kill! It isn’t fair he should have to hang for it, but your white man’s courts would see that he does if he ever gets caught.”
“Don’t … don’t say my white man’s courts. This isn’t my fault, Hawk. I’m not like those others.” Now her own tears started to come.
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is, you shouldn’t be here. I don’t want to be friends with any white girl, understand? And I’m not going to write to you because once I leave here we’ll probably never see each other again, so just go away, Arianne!”
She stood there shivering, hating him, loving him. “Is Iris … going to Denver, too?”
“My sister and I stay together. Yes, she will go.”
“Will you tell her I was here? Tell her to come to my house and see me before you leave?”
He hated being mean to her, but he also hated her, because she reminded him of all the reasons why his father was in trouble. “I will tell her.” He turned back around and began brushing Lone Eagle again.
“I will miss you, Hawk, and I will never forget you.”
He kept brushing the horse and did not reply, until finally he began to feel bad about the way he had spoken to her. He turned around to apologize, but she was gone. “Damn!” he muttered. He walked back into the barn and threw down the brush. It was time to get over to his grandma Abbie’s for lunch. He walked back outside, and noticed Arianne walking up the dirt path that led back to the main reservation area, where she lived in a neat, frame house with her brother. He turned again. To hell with Drake Wilder and his stupid little sister! Maybe she hated him now. That was good. That was best. She wouldn’t bother trying to write him, and he wouldn’t have to hurt her by not writing back.
He tossed his long, shiny-black hair behind his shoulders and walked the half mile to his grandma’s cabin, noticing, when he reached the porch, his uncle, Jeremy, had an odd grin on his face. “Did you eat yet?” he asked.
“Lunch isn’t quite ready,” Jeremy answered. “Go on inside, though. There’s something your grandmother wants you to see.”
Hawk frowned, going through the doorway. It was then he heard his sister crying in the bedroom. “What is wrong?” he asked Abbie.
“You’d better go and see,” Abbie answered with a wry smile.
Hawk hurried through the curtained doorway to see Iris sitting on the bed, crying against the shoulder of their father. Hawk stood frozen, hardly able to believe his eyes. A myriad of emotions swept through him—gladness his father had somehow made it here undetected, fear that now he would be caught. His father’s eyes lit up with great love when his son walked in, and he slowly rose, patting Iris’s shoulder and letting go of her. “Hawk,” he said, his eyes quickly tearing.
“Father!”
In the next moment Wolf’s Blood’s strong arms were around him.
It was decided. When Jeremy left with Hawk and Iris to go back to Denver, they would take two extra horses besides those Hawk had chosen. Those two would be packed with all the items Wolf’s Blood would need, and since the children were moving to Denver, no one would think anything of the extra horses and gear. It would be explained that they were simply things the children wanted to take with them from home. As they headed south, Wolf’s Blood would follow, keeping himself hidden, until he found the opportunity to meet up with them and take the horses and gear before they reached Cheyenne and boarded the train. Dan and Rebecca would soon follow. Once Dan got things in order and packed a wagon, they would move to Denver with Emily.
Abbie’s heart was torn. Morgan had sent a wire from Pueblo that Zeke had decided to leave the ranch. No one knew for certain where he had gone. Now one precious grandson was out there somewhere alone, trying to find the direction he should take in life, trying to forget the woman he loved. Her beloved firstborn son would soon be on the run again, also alone … so alone. Two more grandchildren were leaving her, entering what was a whole new world for them, having to say good-bye to their father, perhaps forever. Dan and Rebecca would take Emily to Denver, and Morgan’s wire had said that Ellen and Hal would soon be moving to Pueblo.
Scattered, all scattered, this big, wonderful family she and Zeke had made. Abbie’s only consolation was knowing Zeke was watching, somehow guiding his grandsons … and his precious son. She would stay here and teach, as long as Swift Arrow was alive and needed to be here among his people. And she would have Jason with her.
This was a day she would remember for the rest of her life, fo
r this might be the last time she saw her son. Tonight he would leave, and within two weeks he would be living in the wilds of Canada. The time had come for more good-byes; she wondered how much hurt one woman could bear. She walked into the bedroom, where everyone was gathered, the window shuttered so no one could see inside.
“Jeremy and the children have to get back to the ranch soon, or someone might wonder,” she told them. She looked at Hawk and Iris. “Children, you must behave normally and act as though nothing has changed. Sometimes, when it comes to good-byes, it is best to just get them done with and go on from there. Your grandfather would say that was the practical thing to do.” She reached out her hands. “I think we should pray, for Hawk and his education, for the future of the children and certainly for Wolf’s Blood.”
She took hold of Wolf’s Blood’s hand on one side, Swift Arrow’s on the other. The rest of them—Jeremy, Hawk, Iris, Jason—all held hands while Abbie prayed. Dan had been summoned earlier, had been able to see his nephew once more. Emily had wept bitterly in her stepfather’s arms before leaving with Dan.
Wolf’s Blood, now wearing clean clothes and new boots, moved around the circle, embracing each of them—his brother, Jason; his uncle, Swift Arrow; his brother, Jeremy. “I put my trust in you to raise my son and my daughter to be proud and successful. There was a time when I would not have given them into your care, nor would I have ever turned to you for help. Now I am honored to call you brother.”
They gripped hands tightly. “And I am honored to call you brother. The Rocky Mountain News has already splattered the society column with the news that the wild Indian who killed three men in Cheyenne is brother to Jeremy Monroe, vice president of the Denver & Rio Grande, stockholder and board member of the Kansas-Pacific. The whole city is in a buzz, and poor Mary is there, handling all the questions. It’s the most excitement we’ve had in years.” He forced a smile, trying not to let the pain of this parting hurt any worse than it already did.
Wolf’s Blood smiled through his own tears. “See? It is not so bad being Indian, my brother. Now you will be famous in Denver. They will want to write books about you.”
Jeremy laughed lightly. “You’re the one a book should be written about. Joshua has already started one about Mother and Father. He and LeeAnn are also moving to Denver, you know. Joshua has landed a high position with the Rocky Mountain News, so I know that regardless of how many stories come out about me and my family, they will at least be fair.”
Wolf’s Blood nodded. “That is good. I am glad LeeAnn will also be there with you and with my children. Hawk and Iris will have their cousins with them.” Their eyes held, full of emotion, these two brothers who had taken years to find each other and had had such a short time to make up for it all.
“Father will be with you, Wolf’s Blood,” Jeremy told him, his voice breaking as he spoke. “We all … know that. And all of us … we’ll be with you in spirit. You won’t really be alone.”
Wolf’s Blood reluctantly let go of Jeremy’s hand and turned to his mother, watching her lovingly, hating the agony he saw in her eyes and wondering how the woman had managed to keep going over the years. “I wonder if you know, Mother, that you have always been the real strength of this family. You always said it was Father, and in certain ways it was. But you …” He placed his hands on either side of her face. “You, Abigail Trent Monroe, were the true rock. Even Father could not have survived without that strength. He told me that many times. To this day the family turns to you. We manage to face what we must because of the courage you have shown as an example through the years. I know that whenever my children need you, you will be there for them.”
Abbie studied him, wanting to remember every feature, every line on his face. She grasped his wrists and kissed the palms of his hands. “I will be with you, wherever you go, son. You must try to find a way to let me know you are all right once you reach Canada, tell me where I can write to you and let you know how Hawk and Iris are doing.”
Wolf’s Blood nodded. “I will find a way.”
Abbie shivered. “I love you, Wolf’s Blood. And Jeremy … was right. Your father will be with you.”
“One day I will see you and Father both,” he answered, “in a place far better than what this earth has become since the white man came. We will all be in a land where the grass is always green and thick, and the buffalo roam in the millions, where the water is so clear you can see through it like glass. Father is there now, waiting for us.” He embraced her, letting her weep against his chest. “I will be all right, Mother. I know that I am loved, and that is all anyone needs in this life.” After a moment he gently pushed her away. “It is best I do this quickly,” he told her, kissing her forehead.
Reluctantly he let go of her, turning to Hawk and Iris, who both hugged him as he put an arm around each of them. “Make me proud,” he told them. “Do not ever deny your Indian blood. Learn the Cheyenne way and remember it, and show the world a Cheyenne is as good as any man or woman. If you can, have your uncle take you to the Apache reservation. It is right that you should also remember your Apache blood, visit with them, learn more about their ways and beliefs. By this you will honor your mother’s people also.”
He turned full attention to Hawk. “Get a good education, and use it for all Indians when necessary, my son. From here on they will have to fight for their rights in many ways, fight to keep their customs, to worship their own way, even to speak their own tongue. More land will be stolen from them. You can help stop it from happening.” He looked at Iris, leaned down and kissed her hair. “My beautiful daughter, always be proud, never ashamed. Remain honorable in all ways. Let Grandma Abbie, your aunts—Margaret and LeeAnn—and Jeremy’s wife, Mary, help guide you in the ways of a woman and the ways of love. Do not ever let a man abuse you or hurt you just because you are Indian. And do not ever marry a man of whom your brother and your uncle Jeremy do not approve. Promise me that.”
Iris nodded her head. “I promise, Father.” She sniffled. “I love you so much. I’ll be afraid without you.”
Wolf’s Blood shook his head. “You have Hawk. He will be like a father to you now. He is a fine, strong young man who will look after you just as I would have. And you have Jeremy. I will always be with you in spirit. But remember you are not just part Apache and Cheyenne. You are also a Monroe, and over the years the Monroes have survived many things. You will survive this, Iris Monroe, and you will be a stronger woman for it.”
Wolf’s Blood drew a deep breath. “Go now, and do not let others see your tears, or they might suspect. Be strong, my children. I will see you for one last embrace when I meet you along the trail and pick up my horses and supplies. After that we’ll go our separate ways, yet we will always be together.” He stepped back from them. “Go. You must. There is no way to avoid it.” He wondered how he managed to make his legs move as he turned away. “Go, all of you, and know that my love goes with you.”
Their tears ripped through his heart like a knife. Quietly and reluctantly they all left, Jason the last to go.
“I love you, Wolf’s Blood,” he said. “You’ll always be my most special brother. You were always”—his voice broke on a sob he could not control—“always a hero to me. And men like you and Swift Arrow and our father … will be remembered—in the history books. And I want you to know I’ve met a young Cheyenne woman I’m in love with. I’m going to marry her, so there will damn well be plenty more Cheyenne Monroes.”
Wolf’s Blood turned to meet his eyes. Both men held their chins high in pride, and Wolf’s Blood managed a smile and a nod. “Wagh, Eo-ve-ano. At heart you are still Yellow Hawk. You could take what you have learned and go to a big city and make much money, but you choose to stay here and doctor our own people. I am sure the white man’s government does not pay you much for this, but you stay anyway. Who is the woman? Is it that pretty young thing you brought to the powwow last fall?”
Jason nodded, glancing at his mother. He had not even told her h
ow serious he was about Louellen. He could see she was happy for him. “Her name is Louellen,” he told Wolf’s Blood. “Louellen Dancing Cloud. She is Cheyenne.”
Wolf’s Blood nodded. “I am glad for you.”
Their eyes held a moment longer, and with tears on his cheeks, Jason turned and left. Darkness was already falling as Wolf’s Blood walked over and sat down in the stuffed chair kept in the bedroom next to the reading table where Abbie sat every night to read her Bible before going to bed. “Come here, Mother. Let me hold you until I have to go.”
Abbie suddenly felt very old, realizing this son of hers was almost forty himself. She walked over and sat down on his lap, aware that she was small and frail compared to him. He held her for over an hour, until there was nothing left to do but to go. He stood up, picking her up in his arms and carrying her to the bed.
“Stay here,” he said softly. “Rest. Promise me.”
Her only reply was to squeeze his hand. She could not speak for the ache in her throat. She turned away and pulled a blanket over herself. Wolf’s Blood turned to his uncle, Swift Arrow. “You are not my uncle,” he said. “You are my father.”
It was the greatest compliment he could have given the man. Swift Arrow embraced him. “And you are my son.” They held each other for several long seconds before Wolf’s Blood turned and picked up a gunnysack that held one change of clothes and some food, as well as some ammunition for the rifle he would take. Two handguns and another rifle were packed into the gear he would pick up later. Without another word he opened the window and slipped out into the night.
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