Sweet Prairie Passion (Savage Destiny)

by Rosanne Bittner

  Abbie could have hit him. By counting on her kindness, he’d put her on the spot. Surely he had to know how she felt about Yellow Grass, but he was relying on Abbie to care more about Zeke’s concern for the woman than about her own jealousy. She couldn’t turn him down; he knew it. And she almost hated him for the half smile that was on his handsome face.

  “Of course,” she replied curtly.

  “I’m obliged,” he returned with a nod.

  “Would you … like some coffee?” she asked, hoping she wouldn’t burst into tears in front of him.

  “Had some. But there is something out there a ways I’d like to show you, if your pa doesn’t mind.” He turned to look at Jason Trent, who suspected something had already occurred between Abbie and Zeke. And because of Abbie’s despondent mood, Jason was sure Zeke had told her to turn her thoughts elsewhere. Trent appreciated what the man was trying to do, and he trusted him. “I’d like to show your daughter a rare flower, Mr. Trent,” Zeke told the man. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind her walking out there alone with me for a moment?”

  Trent read the look in Zeke’s eyes. “It’s all right. You did save her from that Givens man, you know. Why should I worry if you want to go show her a flower?”

  “Nobody knows better than me that people can make something out of it,” Zeke replied. “I wouldn’t want to bring your daughter any bad talk.”

  “Let them say it to my face and I’ll knock their teeth out!” Trent replied. Zeke grinned and looked down at Abbie. “Will you walk with me?” She pressed her lips tight, wanting to kick him. “Please?” he asked, his eyes full of pain and apology. She wondered how she could ever say no to such a man.

  “I’ll walk with you,” she replied sullenly. Zeke took his horse by the reins and led it along, Abbie walking beside him until they were out of hearing range.

  “Well, where’s the flower you spoke of?” Abbie asked, trying to sound cold and uncaring.

  Zeke sighed. “There’s no flower and you know it,” he answered. “I just… wanted to get you alone for a minute, Abigail. I want to apologize … for last night.”

  She felt her heart going soft again and hated herself for it. But when she stopped and looked up at him, her love again took control.

  “Perhaps I should apologize,” she replied. “Olin told me not to walk out there after you. I did a foolish thing. It was much too bold of me, and I hope you don’t think I don’t have any morals. I’ve never done anything so stupid in my life.”

  Their eyes held. “I don’t consider it bold or stupid, Abbie,” he replied. “And it wasn’t wrong, because of your feelings. You’re the nicest girl I ever knew … except for my Ellen. You’re sweet and innocent and pretty, and I had no right saying what I did to try to scare you, touching you like I did, kissing you. I was drunk and I’m sorry. I took advantage of your feelings, and it was an almighty poor thing to do.”

  “I don’t recall objecting,” she replied. “There is nothing to forgive. I asked for it. It was dumb. I know you don’t care about me.”

  “That’s not completely true.” He sighed. “Abbie, look at me, will you?”

  “I … can’t,” she replied, the tears coming again. She turned away from him. “I’m too ashamed. I made a God-awful fool of myself last night, and you must have had a good laugh when you thought about it.”

  He stepped close behind her, afraid to touch her for fear people would see. “That isn’t so, Abbie girl,” he said softly. “I never once laughed, nor would I even think of it.” He pulled his horse around to where it would be between them and the wagon train, then gently turned her and lifted her chin with his big hand, forcing her to look at him. “I’m honored you have such feelings for me, Abigail. And I appreciate the concern you felt last night in coming to me. But most of what I told you was right, except when I said I didn’t care. It’s just that… it seemed easier to try to frighten you and make you hate me … so you’d leave me alone. Being associated with me can only bring a lot of hurt, Abbie. My mind is made up on that, and I wish you could understand. My mind’s been made up for years—ever since I lost my wife and son. If you really care about me, then you’ll respect my wishes and take the advice of someone older—someone who knows about things you don’t know, who’s already been through things you’ve never experienced. I won’t talk to you much after this morning, because it’s best that way. But I have to know you understand, or I’ll go crazy with worry about you.”

  She studied his dark eyes and saw his pain and remorse, and she knew she was losing the battle. Even in love, a person couldn’t win in a fight with Cheyenne Zeke.

  “I understand,” she told him, tears running down her cheeks. “But my feelings won’t ever change.”

  “Some day they will … with time,” he replied. “When you’re older, you’ll see that everything I said and did was right.” He brushed at her tears with his fingers and quickly kissed her forehead. “I have something for you—a gift. I’d be obliged if you’d accept it, and remember me by it. It’s something I already promised you.”

  She sniffed, and her body jerked in a sob. “I’d … treasure anything you gave me,” she replied.

  He pushed some hair behind her ear. “You have to smile first,” he told her. She sniffed again and finally forced a smile, and he grinned a little himself as he reached into a leather bag strapped to his horse. He pulled out a small leather pouch, and she recognized it as the one that held the stones. He took her hand and placed them in her palm, squeezing her hand around them with his own huge hand.

  “I hope the vision about you needing these won’t come true,” he told her. “But if it does, you’ll have the crying stones.”

  “And … what about … the rest of the vision?” she asked.

  Their eyes held. “Must have been somebody else,” he told her. “You’re a fine young girl with a full life ahead of you. There will be plenty of good men who will want you. Some day you’ll be married to one, and you’ll be telling your children and grandchildren about these stones, and about the crazy half-breed you once knew on the Oregon Trail.”

  She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “You mean the crazy half-breed I loved,” she replied.

  “Perhaps. Just so you say it in the past tense, because it can’t be any other way. I’m sure it’s my loss, but at least I’ll know I did the right thing by you. We’d best get back now.”

  “Tell me one thing, Zeke,” she sniffled. “Tell me … you really meant it when you said you …didn’t love me or want me.”

  Their eyes held for several long, anxious seconds. “You’d be making me lie, and Indians don’t lie,” he replied. Her heart pounded with overwhelming love. “But when you’re grown up, you learn to face the fact that some things just can’t be the way you want them to be, Abbie girl. You’re wanting to show me how grown up you are. So show me you can accept what I’m trying to tell you, and show me you’re woman enough to do what I ask and let it go. I’d honor your memory a lot more that way.”

  She nodded. “I’ll try,” she told him, knowing she’d rather die than let him go. But then she’d never had him after all.

  He looked around nervously, and she realized just how much he feared being seen with a white girl. “We’ve been out here too long,” he told her. “Come on, now.” He bent down, picked a flower, and stuck it in her hand. “Wouldn’t want folks to think I was lying about the flower,” he said with a grin.

  She smiled at him, quickly wiping at her eyes to get rid of the tears as they started back. When they reached camp, Willis Brown stormed up to Zeke with his pregnant wife beside him. He glowered at Abbie knowingly but did not mention that they’d seen her walk off with Cheyenne Zeke.

  “You want to know what happened last night while you were drunk and bedding that woman?” Brown spoke up bitterly. Zeke bristled, his jaw twitching with anger.

  “I expect you’re about to tell me, Mr. Brown,” he replied, “so get to it.”

  “Indians! They ran off with two of
my cattle!” the man replied. “And three of my horses! And I want to know what you intend to do about it!”

  Zeke looked over at Olin, who rode up beside them now. “You seen any sign of Indians, Olin?” he asked.

  “I was just comin’ to tell you,” the man replied calmly. “They’re out there, all right. Seen a lot of tracks. Ponies with no shoes. There’s a lot of them, and they know we’re here.”

  Yolanda Brown gasped and held her stomach, looking ready to faint, while the others listened with concern.

  “No reason to go getting all upset,” Zeke told them. “You calm down, Mrs. Brown, or you’ll lose that baby. Contrary to the terrible things you’re thinking, they aren’t after the women. Just food, most likely. It was a lean winter. I suspect they’ll show their faces eventually, maybe today or maybe a week from now. It’s hard to say. But like I say, they’ll be wanting to trade for food.” He looked sarcastically at Willis Brown. “Your women are safe. The only men who steal women are white men! Which reminds me, where’s the preacher?”

  “He’s in a bad way,” Kelsoe spoke up. “He’s laid out in one of my wagons.”

  Zeke lit up a cheroot, his eyes cold. “Good,” he replied. “He’s lucky he’s alive.” He scanned the little group of travelers. “If Indians do show up, you make sure that preacher isn’t anyplace around. He’s just likely to do something stupid and get us all killed. Let me do all the talking.”

  “You mean they might attack us?” Hanes asked.

  Zeke almost laughed, but instead he took his side-arm from around his horse’s neck and began strapping it on. “Not likely,” he returned. “Let me ask you folks something. You ever been hungry—I mean, really hungry—like not eating for days at a time?”

  Everyone looked at each other.

  “They have,” Zeke went on. “I’ve been that hungry before, and I know how it feels. Those Indians likely took the cattle for food—figuring you whites are real wealthy and you’ve got plenty more where that came from. They live mostly on buffalo meat and deer and antelope; but game isn’t always in abundant supply, and since the white man started coming west of the Missouri, Indians have less and less land to hunt on. And most of them don’t have rifles like we do to hunt with in the first place. When you’re feeding a few thousand people on what you can find off the land, you don’t always succeed, so they took a couple of cattle.”

  “What about the horses?” Kelsoe asked.

  Zeke looked at Olin. “What are they? Sioux?”

  “Yup. Camped maybe four miles back of us. Big camp. Maybe eight hundred of them.”

  “Oh my!” Yolanda paled.

  Zeke sighed disgustedly. “Get her to her wagon!” he ordered. “Make her lie down.”

  “What about my horses? Aren’t you going to go after them?” Willis Brown asked, not even taking his wife’s arm.

  Zeke finished strapping on the gun, then put one arm around his horse’s neck and half grinned. “Mr. Brown, do you want to ride into a camp of eight hundred Sioux and take your horses back? I might be good, but I’m not that good!”

  Everyone chuckled a little from nervousness, and Willis Brown turned red in the face.

  “You know what I mean!” he growled. “You’re their kind!”

  “That’s right, mister, and I know how they think!” Zeke snapped. “That’s why I say we just head out and keep moving and pay them no mind.”

  “And leave my horses behind? What about my cattle, too?”

  “You’ve got breeders along. You can raise more cattle. A couple of head won’t break you. As for the horses, you’ll get them back when those Sioux ride in here wanting to trade them for food—flour and salt and the like. And when they do, you’d best trade, Brown! I don’t want any trouble! They’re just hungry.”

  Brown looked ready to explode with anger. “Do you mean to tell me we have to trade our own supplies for our own horses?” he fumed.

  “That’s exactly what I mean!” Zeke replied sternly. “And when and if they show up, all of you stay out of it! I’ll be dealing for more than your horses! I’ve got Yellow Grass to think about. I promised to get her back to her own kind, but I don’t intend to just hand her over to just any buck, either. So I’ll have some of my own dealing to do to make sure she gets treated right.”

  Brown spat on the ground. “Horses and women! They’re worth about the same in an Indian’s eyes!”

  Zeke grabbed the man by the shirt front. “Mister, the way you’re acting right now, I’d say it’s about the same for you! I already told you to tend to your wife, and you’re still standing here worried about your damned horses!” He gave the man a shove. “Now get your woman back to your wagon and make her lie down! We’ve been held up here long enough. If she miscarries, we’ll be held up even longer!”

  Brown glared at him, then grudgingly took his wife’s arm and led her back, grumbling about his animals.

  “Why didn’t you tell us about the Indians before, Wales?” Connely asked. “Surely you knew before this they were out there.”

  “No need to get folks all worked up,” the man replied. “I figured I’d discuss it with Zeke first and size up the situation. This is the closest they’ve got so far, probably because of us being held up because of Mary’s snake bite. But them Sioux won’t give us no trouble, except to maybe want to do a little tradin’.”

  “How can you be so sure they’re not after our women?” the older Mr. Brown asked haughtily. Robards moved over next to LeeAnn, trying to impress her by acting brave and protective. Zeke sighed and shook his head.

  “Any of you ever heard yet of a white woman being captured and raped or tortured by a Plains Indian?” he asked.

  They all looked around at each other, while Mrs. Hanes blushed.

  “But people say—” Bobby Jones started to speak up.

  “People say!” Zeke replied angrily. “But they don’t know! Now I’m telling you all they want is a little food. As far as women go”—he pulled Yellow Grass close beside him—“they get all they need from their own women in their own tipis. There aren’t many bucks who go hungry in that department.” Abbie’s jealousy flamed again, and some of the men grinned a little. “You’ve got to stop thinking of Indian men the way you’re thinking,” Zeke continued. “They’re more interested in their strength and honor and bravery in battle than in dwelling on the dirty thoughts a lot of white men dwell on. Capturing and raping a woman isn’t exactly honorable, nor does it prove bravery. You have to learn to think the way the Indian thinks, and then you won’t be so afraid of them. And like I said, it’s your own kind you’ve got to look out for—men like the preacher!”

  Annoyed again, he turned and climbed up on his horse. He looked down haughtily at the older Mr. Brown. “I saw a white woman abused once, mister, real bad—worse than anything you could ever picture. And it was your kind that did it. That woman was my wife! So don’t you ask me about what Indians do to white women!” He turned his horse and rode up the line. “Let’s get moving!” he hollered. “Git up there! Let’s roll!”

  People hurried to their wagons, and the air was filled with the snap of whips, men’s curses, and orders shouted to the animals. As the wagons creaked and started moving, they were off again. But Abbie’s heart was heavy because of Zeke’s last statement about his wife and her realization of the terrible pain and loneliness he suffered. When the Trent wagon began rolling, she looked back over her shoulder, watching for painted faces.

  Six

  All that day there was no more sign of Indians. One of Kelsoe’s wagons developed a bad squeak, so they had to stop and grease a wheel; and the school teacher’s wagon became stuck in the mud. Later in the day a storm hit, a fierce prairie storm that made Abbie feel the world was coming to an end. She huddled under a quilt with LeeAnn and Jeremy, while their father, undaunted by the fury of the thunder and lightning outside, sat in a corner going over a list of supplies. During the worst of it someone banged on the side of the wagon, and they all jumped.
<
br />   “Everybody okay in there?” came Zeke’s voice.

  Abbie scrambled to the back of the wagon before anyone else could get there and lifted the canvas slightly, squinting when rain pelted her face. Zeke sat there on the big Appaloosa, with nothing but his worn-out leather hat to protect his head, and an Indian blanket around his shoulders.

  “You’ll catch pneumonia!” she called out to him, yelling so that she could be heard about the torrential downpour.

  “I’ve been wet before!” he replied. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes, sir!” she shouted. “Is Yellow Grass all right? She’d been walking with the Haneses’ children.”

  “She’s in the wagon with them,” he shouted back. Their eyes held a moment, then he just nodded and rode off into the downpour. Abbie crawled back inside, suddenly unafraid of the storm because she realized Zeke was watching over them. She reached inside her trunk, took out the little leather pouch of blue stones, and held them tightly, thinking to herself that if she could not have Cheyenne Zeke for her man, he was at least her friend, and that was comforting. But that thought only dulled the terrible ache in her young heart; she knew it would never really go away. Until her dying day she would love Cheyenne Zeke.

  It was three more days before the Indians appeared. The camp was asleep when Olin Wales came around to each wagon, pounding on the side and telling those within to get dressed fast. Abbie and LeeAnn lifted the canvas and peeked out.

  “Oh, my God!” LeeAnn whispered.

  “Lord in heaven, we’re surrounded!” Abbie added.

  They dressed quickly, and Abbie jumped out of the wagon without even putting on her shoes. Sioux were lined up side by side around the train, and she worried about Zeke who would be right in the middle of whatever happened.

  Yellow Grass stood by their wagon beside Abbie’s father, waiting quietly, and Abbie wondered if the girl was afraid. Zeke would be trying to make a deal to give Yellow Grass back to the Sioux.