“Can we … be friends again?” the girl asked, suddenly realizing that if she made her sister mad enough, she might tell Zeke LeeAnn was planning to leave the train. “I mean … we’ve hardly spoken since … since Zeke insulted Quentin. I know it was mostly my doing—”
“Oh, LeeAnn, it warms my heart to hear you say that!” Abbie told her, hoping perhaps the girl had not changed as much as she’d thought. “And I’m sorry for the things I’ve said about Quentin. It’s just that… I love you. And I wish you wouldn’t talk about running off with that man. It would be dangerous. I can’t help but think that Quentin couldn’t possibly love you if he’d consider submitting you to the dangers out there!”
She immediately realized she’d said the wrong thing, because LeeAnn’s eyes hardened again.
“Oh, there I go again!” Abbie fretted. “You know what I mean, LeeAnn. It’s you I’m thinking of.”
“Stop mothering me!” the girl spat out. “My God, Abbie, I’m the older sister, remember? It’s me who should be doing the mothering, not you! And I know what I’m doing!” She turned to walk away, and Abbie put a hand on her arm.
“LeeAnn, don’t do something that stupid!”
The girl whirled. “I belong to Quentin now, and he’s the only one I listen to!” she pouted. “Not an inexperienced little sister!”
LeeAnn’s eyes flashed when she said that, and full knowledge of the situation suddenly hit Abbie. Her eyes teared. “LeeAnn … has Quentin … has that man laid his claim on you?” she asked quietly. LeeAnn jerked her arm away.
“Yes!” she replied haughtily. “So don’t be advising me about men, because I already know all about them! I’m Quentin’s woman, and nothing is going to stop me from doing whatever my man wants me to do! He hasn’t quite made up his mind yet, but whether we go on to Oregon or go back East, he’s going to marry me and I’m going to be a fine lady and live in a fine house.” She glanced over at Zeke, still standing and drinking with the other men. “That’s more than you’ll ever get out of Cheyenne Zeke—if you’re ever able to capture that coyote. The most you’ll get out of him is a tepee and sixteen kids!”
“Well, that would be fine with me!” Abbie snapped. “There’s nothing I would like better than giving that man sixteen kids, and I expect I’d have a lot more fun getting pregnant than you ever will!”
LeeAnn’s eyes flared, and Abbie wished she’d not said things that would cause hard feelings between them again. But her sister’s stupidity irritated her, and she couldn’t stop herself from trying to make the girl see what Quentin Robards really was.
“Think what you want of Quentin,” she said heatedly, nonetheless keeping her voice down. “But I’ll do whatever he asks, and you’d better not tell that Zeke, or you’ll regret it! Quentin could probably get him kicked off this train if he wanted. And he could make things bad for you, too!”
Abbie paled. “What are you talking about?”
LeeAnn looked somewhat regretful, but she kept her mouth in a hard line. “You figure it out! Folks don’t take kindly to a half-breed who moves in on young white girls!” As her sister whirled and walked on to the supply store, Abbie watched, tears stinging her eyes. Apparently there were no limits to what LeeAnn would do for Quentin. Her father and brother, who’d been talking to the blacksmith, walked toward her now.
“Let’s go in the supply store, Abbie,” Trent said with a cheerful smile. But he sobered when he saw the tears in her eyes. “What’s wrong, honey?”
Abbie shrugged and wiped at her eyes.
“Is it LeeAnn?” her father asked, putting an arm around her shoulders.
Abbie swallowed, tempted to tell him LeeAnn might leave the train with Robards, but afraid of what the girl meant about Zeke. Besides, her father had enough worries without adding to them. How could LeeAnn and Robards possibly leave anyway, stuck this far out in the wilderness? Surely they wouldn’t be stupid enough to try to go back alone, and it was doubtful there would be anyone at the fort to take them.
“It’s nothing, pa,” she told the man. “I’m … just tired.”
“Don’t you be fretting over LeeAnn,” he told her. “She’ll come around. That Robards will show his hand one way or another. Come on inside and I’ll buy you some new material. Would you like that?”
She smiled. “Thanks, pa.”
He patted her shoulder. “You’re a good girl, Abbie. A good girl. I don’t know what I’d do without you—or what little Jeremy would do.”
Zeke approached them now, obviously in a good mood from his whiskey. “Mr. Trent, I’d like to introduce you to the man who runs the supply store,” he told Abbie’s father. “He’s a personal friend of mine and he’ll give you more than a fair deal on whatever you want, especially when I tell him what good people you are.” He glanced at Abbie, his heart torn by the obvious tears in her eyes. Having seen LeeAnn storm away, he felt he knew the reason for them. He longed to hold her and tell her not to cry, but that was an impossibility, so he covered up his concern, casually returning his gaze to Trent.
“That’s mighty nice of you, Zeke,” Trent replied. “But we don’t deserve any special favors.”
“Oh, but you do,” Zeke replied. “And so do the Haneses … and Kelsoe. There are good and deserving people in this world, Trent.” He glanced over at the preacher, who stood off by himself. “And there are those this world could get along fine without.”
“Well, I have to agree with you there, Zeke,” Trent replied, as they headed for the supply store.
“Look there!” Jeremy said, tugging at Zeke and pointing to some Indian children standing with some Indian men and women. “Would they play with me, Mr. Zeke? I never played with Indian kids before!”
Zeke grinned softly and knelt down in front of the boy. “Those are Arapahos,” he told Jeremy. “And of course you can play with them. I’ll take you over, but I doubt they speak English.”
“Then how can we play?” the boy asked curiously, pursing his lips. Zeke chuckled and tousled his hair.
“Hell, kids don’t need to talk the same language to play together,” he told the boy. “I’ll tell them in their tongue who you are, and I’ll find out their names for you; and in no time at all, they’ll be showing you their bows and arrows and their hoop game and—”
“Hoop game?” the boy asked with a smile.
“You’ll see,” Zeke told him.
“How come they’re over there by themselves?” the boy asked. “How come nobody here talks to them?”
Zeke’s eyes saddened for a moment. “You know, Jeremy, if adults could sometimes think like children, we’d all be better off,” he replied. He took a blue stone necklace from around his neck and held it out to Jeremy. “Here. A gift from Cheyenne Zeke to Jeremy Trent, a young man who might someday help bridge the gap between the Indian and the white man.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “For me?”
“For you. But only if you promise to always try to remain friends with the Indian.”
“Sure I will!” Jeremy answered, taking the stones and placing them carefully around his neck. “A real Indian necklace!” he exclaimed. “Does this make me your friend forever, Mister Zeke?”
Zeke grinned. “Forever,” he replied. “You are now officially a friend of the Cheyenne; that’s what the necklace means. If a Cheyenne warrior saw it around your neck, he’d not harm you.”
“Golly!” Jeremy replied, fingering the stones and studying the half-breed he considered the strongest, bravest, and wildest Indian he’d ever known. Zeke just chuckled and shook his head, as he stood up and led the boy over to the Indian children.
Abbie watched them for a moment. Zeke spoke in both tongues in order to help Jeremy get acquainted, while the Indian children stood obedient and quiet, staring at Jeremy with the huge, brown eyes set in their lovely, round, brown faces. She wanted to walk up and hug them. They were beautiful children, and she thought of giving Cheyenne Zeke babies with such large, dark eyes and bright smiles.
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br /> Zeke soon rejoined them, assuring Abbie’s father that the boy would have a lot more fun playing with the Indian children than standing around in the supply store. Already Jeremy was running with one of the Arapaho boys, both of them rolling hoops and laughing. Abbie, her father, and Zeke went on to the supply store, where Zeke introduced them and the Haneses to the owner, an old man named Gus Clinton, who shook Zeke’s hand like a long-lost friend. Abbie felt relieved to see another white man besides Olin Wales who apparently considered Zeke a friend and an equal.
“Now this here is a man who can be trusted as much as you can trust the sun to come up every day,” Clinton told them, still shaking hands with Zeke, who laughed. “I’ll take Zeke’s word any day over most of the whites that come through here,” the man went on. “That’s all a man is worth out here, you know. His word. It’s somethin’ for you folks to remember. Zeke here—he’s a right good friend to have. But look out if he catches you lying or cheating or aiming at his back! Then he’s as vicious as a wolf with rabies!” They all chuckled.
“We’ve seen a little of that side of him,” Trent replied.
“I expect so,” Clinton replied. He winked at Zeke. “How have things been going for you, Zeke? Any problems on the way out?’
“Just the usual,” Zeke replied, grabbing up a few thin cigars. “Had a little run-in with the Sioux. Had to put a Sioux warrior in his place … a little misunderstanding with one of the emigrants.”
“Well, if the white folks would learn how to deal with Indians, there wouldn’t be any problems,” Clinton replied. “I suppose the Sioux warrior is dead?”
Zeke reached into a small pouch on his leather belt and pulled out some coins, laying them on the counter. “You suppose right. I don’t generally end a fight any other way if I can help it.”
“You got the Cheyenne mean streak in you, Zeke. You watch yourself around civilized parts or you’ll be hanging from a tree. It would be a shame to hang a good man like you.”
Zeke chuckled and shoved the money across the counter. “Thanks for the cigars. I’ll be heading out for the Arapaho camp now. Figured I’d spend a day with Indians instead of whites—gives me a chance to relax and be among people I can trust.” He nodded to Jason Trent. “Present company is not included in those I do not trust,” he added. “You folks get all you need now and rest up. We’ll head out day after tomorrow.” His eyes rested on Abbie for a moment, and he thought to himself how pleasant it would be to take her with him and spend some time with her in a tepee. “Good day, Miss Abbie,” he said cordially.
“Good-bye, Zeke,” she replied.
He turned and left, giving no visible sign of caring about her any more than he cared about anyone else on the train, and she watched him go, wondering jealously if he had some woman with whom he’d spend the night at the Arapaho camp.
They spent nearly an hour in the supply store, trying to make up their minds about supplies and then waiting in line to pay for their items. LeeAnn joined them, coldly asking her father if she could buy a necklace she’d found. Her father agreed reluctantly, because he knew the necklace would be worn for Quentin Robards’ benefit.
When they finally left the store, their arms full of necessary items, they headed for their camp outside the fort; but as they walked toward the gate, Abbie’s heart froze at the sight of five men who were riding in. Even LeeAnn gasped, and they stopped and swallowed as the five men rode up close to them. Abbie looked up into the sneering face of Rube Givens!
“Get out of our way, Givens!” Jason Trent told the man heatedly. “You have a lot of nerve showing your face again! You’d best not let Cheyenne Zeke see it!”
Givens snickered. “I got a right to ride wherever I want. I don’t cater to Cheyenne Zeke. But I happen to know he ain’t around right now,” the man replied haughtily. He eyed Abbie and LeeAnn, remembering their slim thighs and small bottoms revealed in the hollow back at Sapling Grove. “My apologies, ladies. I was drunk back there in Missouri. I never meant to harm anyone.”
LeeAnn blushed, and Abbie’s eyes glinted. “You’re a lying coward!” she shot back. Trent grasped her arm warningly.
“Hush up, Abbie. Don’t even talk to this scum. Come on, girls. Let’s put our things away and go find Jeremy.”
“Sorry you choose not to accept my humble apologies,” Givens told them, spitting out some tobacco through his brown teeth. He eyed Abbie up and down and tipped his worn, leather hat. “See you ladies at the big celebration tonight. There will be lots of dancin’ and singin’ and feastin’ and such. Afternoon, ladies.”
Abbie felt undressed, and her heart pounding with hatred and fear, she quickly turned and walked toward camp, while Rube Givens and his men rode on into the fort. She wished Cheyenne Zeke had not left the fort for the Arapaho camp. But then surely a man as cunning and knowledgeable as Zeke knew Rube Givens was about. Perhaps he’d return before the evening’s celebrations to guard her against Rube Givens. And just in case he did return, she’d look her prettiest that night—for Cheyenne Zeke. Her heart raced with anticipation.
Givens rode on inside the fort and dismounted, tying his horse and eying a well-dressed man in a gray suit standing near the entrance to the supply store. He nodded to the man and the man nodded back. Givens headed inside, but the man stopped him with his words.
“You’re the fellow who had the run-in with Cheyenne Zeke back at Sapling Grove, aren’t you?” the man asked. Givens stopped and looked at him suspiciously.
“I am. And you’re a part of the wagon train, ain’t you?”
“Name’s Connely. Morris Connely,” the portly, graying man replied. “I… uh …I believe you and I have similar feelings about Cheyenne Zeke, sir. And so does another man on this train, a man by the name of Quentin Robards. Now that I see you’re still with us, I’d like to talk to you about something. I don’t like this half-breed scout we have, but I can’t do anything about it directly. Perhaps you can help for a little … fee?”
Givens smiled. “For a big enough fee I’ll do anything, mister.”
“I thought so,” Connely replied. “I think I’ve finally figured out who Cheyenne Zeke really is. I spent some time in Tennessee myself, and I’ve been putting a few things together. If my hunch is right, I can get the man kicked off the train. That would … uh … leave those girls a little more … unprotected, if you know what I mean.”
Givens grinned. “I’m listenin’.”
“One thing. I’ll pay you well, Givens. But only if you leave my name and Quentin Robards’ name out of it, understand? I don’t want Cheyenne Zeke knowing where the information came from. Understood?”
“You afraid of that big blade of his?” Givens snickered.
“Aren’t you?” Connely replied.
“Only when I’m facin’ him. But once he’s off the train, he’s out there alone. I know where he is now. Been lookin’ for Zeke for a long time. That’s why I stayed behind, waitin’ my chance to put a bullet in his back. Trouble is, Cheyenne Zeke ain’t the type that’s easy to catch. But I will … someday.”
“Come with me, Givens. Perhaps I can help you toward that goal,” Connely replied. He led Givens around the corner of the building to where Quentin Robards stood waiting.
The celebration that night would have been the best time Abbie had ever had, if not for the lurking presence of Rube Givens and his men—and the absence of Cheyenne Zeke. She tried her best to enjoy herself. She wore her hair in curls and put blue ribbons in it that matched her blue cotton dress with the ruffled hem and the bodice that helped make her breasts look a little more womanly. But Zeke was not there to see her, so she danced a few times with Bobby Jones, just to be nice.
Her father and the others, aware of Givens’ presence, were prepared, all watching both Givens and the women of the train. Jason Trent kept his rifle beside him as he sat and played the fiddle. David Craig again joined in with his banjo, but he watched LeeAnn and Quentin Robards with both hate and hurt in his eyes. One man from
the fort played the fiddle, and another the harmonica, so together they all made music that had everyone dancing and clapping.
Abbie decided that nothing bad could happen in such a large group, so in spite of Zeke’s absence, she tried to enjoy herself, for ahead lay more dangers and possible heartache. And she did want to show her gratitude to old Mr. Clinton and others at the fort who had gone out of their way to show the emigrants a good time and to prepare a side of beef, from which everyone ate heartily, over a pit of coals.
The entire group of travelers attended, including the preacher, who stood off to the side talking to Yolanda Brown about how he intended to make Oregon a more “Christian” place for the new settlers by “saving” the savage Indians and the lawless men who were already there. He acted as though he had no guilt feelings whatsoever about what he’d done to Yellow Grass, and apparently Yolanda Brown didn’t see anything wrong with his past behavior. That aggravated Abbie. Abbie supposed Yolanda Brown didn’t hold it against the man simply because Yellow Grass had been an Indian, and therefore, she didn’t count. After all, a man, even a preacher, can’t be blamed for trying to get a little manly pleasures; that was the way she’d heard Willis Brown put it once. It sickened Abbie that such people could exist and that they smugly joined decent people and piously talked about being Christian.
The men to whom Abbie had seen Zeke speak earlier were present, and there were even a few Indians there, who apparently hung around the Fort all the time, eager to trade horses and buffalo robes to the whites in exchange for trinkets and mirrors and such.
Old Mr. Clinton called out square dances, and skirts swirled and people laughed, meanwhile complaining that they were dancing too hard on full stomachs. Everyone was eager to let loose; the strain over little Mary’s snakebite, the run-in with the Sioux, and all the other problems they had experienced had made them ready to celebrate reaching the fort.
Abbie’s disgust with Quentin Robards grew when the man actually stepped up to her and asked her to dance with him. She knew he was doing it simply to smooth-talk her into liking him better, but she suspected there was even more to it. He smiled slyly, as though he knew something she did not know, and she grudgingly consented to dance, intending to let him know through her coldness and through her eyes that she did not like him or trust him. She thought to herself that he smelled more like a woman than a man. It made her long even more for Zeke, who smelled like leather and the out-of-doors; he was always fresh and good-smelling, masculine and naturally sweet, even the day he’d had the fight with the Sioux warrior. His was a smell that brought out the natural desires in a woman, but Quentin Robards’ smell made her feel a little sick. It was perfumy and unnatural. She tried to hold her breath as much as she could until the dance was over, concentrating on Zeke and the memory of his sweet lips and breath the couple of times he had kissed her. She wished he could see her tonight, and that she could dance with him, but she knew that he would never allow himself to be seen dancing with a white girl in front of others.
Sweet Prairie Passion (Savage Destiny) Page 14