Sweet Prairie Passion (Savage Destiny)

by Rosanne Bittner

  “Some say that piece was smoothed out by a big glacier millions of years ago,” Olin spoke up. “It just shoved its way through and gouged out the pass.”

  “Makes a person feel small and insignificant,” Abbie replied softly.

  “That it does,” Olin replied.

  Abbie stared in awe at the pass and the surrounding purple peaks. “What a beautiful land this is!” she exclaimed. “I’ve never seen such a place! I don’t think I could ever go back to Tennessee now. It’s like … like I left a different person back there. I feel like I belong out here now.”

  Zeke turned to look at her strangely, almost angrily. Then he looked at Olin.

  “The train is up ahead,” he stated, turning and pointing. “See it? See them little white dots way out there?”

  Olin and Abbie both strained to see. “By God, that is the train!” Olin replied.

  “Ride on ahead, Olin. Tell them we’re on our way. I want to talk to Abigail. Just tell them I’m riding in slow with her because I don’t want her riding too hard since we both were wounded—whatever you can tell them. Just so they don’t suspect there’s any other reason we’d lag behind alone.”

  “I understand,” Olin replied, nudging his horse into motion.

  “And tell them … tell them you and me both took on the Givens men. Tell them they attacked us, killing David, and we fought back. That’s how we all got wounded. But we got them all. That way they won’t know she got caught alone with them. I don’t want them thinking the worse happened to her and asking a lot of embarrassing questions. And I don’t want them to know it was me, alone, who found her or that we spent those five or so days in that cave. I don’t want them to know any of that.”

  “I’ll tell them. You and Abbie just be sure to keep your stories straight.”

  Zeke nodded. “We will. Get going.”

  Olin rode off, and Zeke watched him as man and horse became smaller. Then he spoke up, his back still to Abbie.

  “I’ll flat out say it, Abbie girl, just so you know for sure. I love you. Don’t you ever feel ashamed for what happened. I respect and … honor you. You’re courageous … and beautiful and strong. You’re everything a man needs—except this man can’t have you because you’re white. But I love you, and I want you to always know it. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you so much. When I’m near you, you create a need in me that drives me crazy. I should be ashamed, taking advantage of a mere child like I’ve done. A man of my age and experience should have better control. But … you’re different. It’s damned rotten of me to fool with your heart like I have, and I’m sorry.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for. Everything that happened was because I wanted it to happen. And …” She sat staring at his broad shoulders and the long, thick braid down his back, loving him … aching for him. “And if you leave me … at Fort Bridger … then go with the knowledge that wherever you ride from then on, somebody loves you. Whatever happens to you, you’re loved and you’re in my prayers. I… I don’t think I will ever marry, Zeke. But if I do—Oh, Zeke, it doesn’t have to be this way! I can’t stand the thought of you being with another woman, and how can you stand the thought of me being with another man!”

  He whirled his horse. “Stop it!” he growled.

  “I can’t help it! My God, Zeke, why? Why do we have to part? I’ve proved to you how strong I am! I can live with you, Zeke! I can live with your people! I can take whatever—”

  “No!” He said it so loudly and so suddenly that she jumped. “No!” he repeated, his eyes full of pain and sorrow. “Never again, Abbie! Never again will I put a woman through what Ellen went through!”

  Her eyes hardened slightly in anger. “I never thought you’d be one to be afraid, Cheyenne Zeke—Zeke Monroe or whatever you call yourself!” she said boldly. “You can go against men like Givens or a whole tribe of Indians, but you’re scared to death to love a fifteen-year-old girl! And you’re scared to death of your own memories! It can be different out here, Zeke! Out here people accept Indian and white marriages!”

  “Sure! If the man is white and the woman is Indian! But not the other way around! How often do you hear about white women running off with Indians? Never! People put labels on women like that, Abbie! The only white women who sleep with Indians are the prostitutes! Whores! I’ll not let you be branded that way. Even if you were my wife, they’d brand you!”

  “You’re wrong, Zeke! This is the West. It’s different out here! People come out here to be free—to leave all of those social barriers behind and to live a whole different way! Out here a man or a woman can do whatever he or she wants to do!”

  “Can they?” He let out a disgusted sigh and removed his hat, wiping his brow. He looked out over the pass again. “You’re a young dreamer, Abbie girl. Moving from one side of the country to another doesn’t change human nature. It doesn’t change the way people were brought up to believe. People don’t change with location.”

  “And there are always those who have to prove the others wrong,” she replied softly. “Those who are strong enough to prove it can be different. You’re that strong, and so am I.”

  He slumped slightly on the horse. “I’m not as strong as you think, Abbie. I don’t doubt maybe you are strong enough. But I’ve got that memory … of my wife and little boy laying in pools of blood … suffering horribly. I still wake up at night sometimes, screaming their names. Ellen, naked on that bed, her arms cut off, her head shaved …” His whole body shuddered. “You’re right, Abbie girl. I am afraid … of seeing something like that again. God knows a man like me doesn’t like to admit to a weakness, but that’s mine. I just can’t risk something like that happening again, no matter how much I love you.”

  She rode closer and reached out to touch his arm. “But if I lived with the Cheyenne, away from whites, it would be easier—not as likely to happen, Zeke. For you I’d give it all up—a house, wood floors, windows, a fireplace with a clock on the mantle. I’d give up pretty dresses and fourposter beds. What good would a fourposter bed be to me if I was in it with a man I didn’t love? I could live anyplace with you, Zeke. I could learn the ways of the Indian. I’d do anything to be with you—anything!” The tears came then, streaming down her face. “God, Zeke, I love you so much!”

  He turned and reached out to brush at her tears.

  “It’s easy to talk like that when you’re only fifteen, Abbie. But after a while you’d hate me. You’d hate that kind of life, and you’d be longing for all those things. And besides that, Abbie girl, I see an ill wind for the Cheyenne—for all Indians. There are a lot of bad things to come, and they’ll get chased from here to the Pacific Ocean. The settlement of this land that’s just started can only mean the end of the Indian eventually, as more and more land gets fenced in and there’s no place for them to go—nothing for them to eat. Life will get mighty hard for them, Abbie. I see starvation ahead, deprivations, massacres. It’s in the wind, Abbie girl. And you’d be right in the middle of it.” He shook his head. “It would never work. Never. And I’ve done a terrible thing to you! Forgive me, Abbie.”

  She choked in a sob and covered her mouth, turning away. How was she going to live without Cheyenne Zeke?

  “There’s nothing to forgive!” she sobbed. Then she whirled on him. “I won’t let you go out of my life, Zeke! Do you hear me! I won’t let it happen! I belong to you! And I know it was you that you saw standing beside me in that vision you had! It was, wasn’t it? Tell me!”

  He jerked his reins, looking angry. “No! I know what’s best, Abigail! Now let’s get going! The sooner we get to Fort Bridger, the better!” He whirled his horse around in a circle, then started down the hill. She watched him for a minute.

  “Zeke!” she called out. “I can’t go down! I can’t!” Tears poured out of her eyes. “It means … saying good-bye!” she choked out, as her panic began to build. She could not let it be over! But he just kept riding. “Zeke!”

  “Come on!” he ordered. “Those Crow migh
t be around close!”

  “Zeke!” She just sat there frozen until finally he realized he’d gone a little too far away and turned to look up at her.

  “You’re a woman now!” he shouted. “And you say you love me! This is no easier for me than it is for you, Abbie! Don’t you understand that? Please come down! Don’t make this so hard on me! I’m doing this because I love you! And if you love me, then get down here right now and show me the kind of woman you are, Abigail Trent! Show me you’re a woman of strength and courage, not a sniffling little girl!”

  “I … love you,” she whispered. He was trying hard to be practical and give her the courage she needed. Why had she picked such a man to love? Why couldn’t she love a simple boy like Bobby Jones? It seemed everything that happened to her was destined to turn bad and to bring heartache. She wished a Crow Indian would come along and put an arrow through her heart.

  She nudged her horse forward, but that trip to the wagon train was the longest and hardest journey of her life. They rode the rest of the way without saying another word, Zeke staying ahead of her deliberately to keep from talking to her. His stubborn mind was made up.

  They reached the wagon train and he went about his business, answering questions from the men while Mrs. Hanes whisked Abbie away, fussing about the awful experience they’d all had and carrying on about poor David and LeeAnn. She insisted that Abbie change into a nightgown right away and lie down to rest from the terrible journey.

  Abbie blindly obeyed, feeling numb and weary, yet she could not sleep, for her heart was heavy with awful loneliness. She kept thinking about the cave and remembering those quiet days with Zeke. The cave was far away now, and she’d never see it again—just like she’d never see her family again, or even their graves. She was filled with desperation and black sorrow. It was all over now. Everything was over.

  Sixteen

  Abbie awoke to hear Willis Brown shout, “Indians!” She was not sure what time it was or how long she had slept after finally managing to get her restless mind to settle down. Now she awoke reluctantly, realizing just how worn out she truly was from that horrible encounter with Givens and his men and the aching loneliness brought on by her family tragedy and by her love for Zeke. She started to drift off again when she realized people were rushing around outside and guns were being cocked. She stretched, rubbed her eyes, and moved to the back of the wagon. The sun’s position told her it was late afternoon. She’d slept all the night before, and on Mrs. Hanes’s insistence, she’d stayed inside the wagon and slept most of the day, while Olin led her oxen. She had seen nothing of Zeke since they’d gotten back, and she surmised he would make sure she continued to see little of him as they headed for Fort Bridger, where he was to leave them. That recurring thought brought back the awful ache to her heart, but it was dimmed somewhat by the excitement of the moment.

  The wagons were circling, and people were bustling about, pulling the stock inside the circle. Mr. Hanes was shoving his children inside their wagon, and Mrs. Hanes was hurrying over to Abbie’s wagon.

  “What’s wrong?” Abbie asked, as the woman came closer.

  “Indians are coming—quite a lot of them,” the woman replied. “Zeke says they’re Crow, and he doesn’t completely trust them. Crow like to make war. He said you were to stay inside the wagon, Abigail. All the women are to stay inside.”

  “But Zeke will be right in the middle of things!” Abbie protested without thinking. She searched her trunk for a clean dress. “I want to be out there! I want to see! What if he gets hurt?”

  Mrs. Hanes grabbed her arm. “Abbie, the orders are for the women to stay inside. You know how important it is to do what Zeke and Olin say. They know what’s best.”

  Abbie’s heart pounded with apprehension. All she could think of was Zeke. It was as though she had an obligation to be at his side. After all, she loved him, and until they reached Fort Bridger, she still considered that she belonged to him, and he to her, even though he continued to insist they must not think that way. Her eyes teared as she heard the men’s voices; but she pulled her arm away and removed her gown, revealing the scratches and faint bruises still left from Givens’ men. Mrs. Hanes noticed them and looked away, as Abbie pulled on a slip, insisting she had to go. She picked up her dress, but Mrs. Hanes grabbed it from her.

  “No, Abbie!”

  “But, he’s all alone!”

  “And how would it look for you to go running out there, dashing up to his side?” the woman asked gently.

  Abbie blushed, suddenly realizing how revealing she’d been about her feelings. Her eyes teared more, and she turned away. Mrs. Hanes touched her shoulder.

  “Abbie, I’m a woman, too. Did you really think I don’t know that you love him?”

  Abbie swallowed and sniffed. “Nobody … is supposed to know. He doesn’t want anyone to know … for fear of me getting a bad name. But he loves me, too. He truly does, and I don’t care who knows it!” She burst into tears, and Mrs. Hanes put her arms around her. Abbie cried against her shoulder, longing for her own mother.

  “But Zeke does care, Abbie. And if you truly love him, you have to let it be his way, because he’s older and he’s been through more, and he knows what’s best. He’s just looking out for you. That’s all.”

  “But if … if you know, then everybody must know!” Abbie sobbed.

  “Oh, I’m not so sure about that. Perhaps a few just suspect. No one has said anything as far as I know.” She stroked the girl’s hair. “And what is the truth about what happened out there, Abbie? I saw your bruises. Did Givens’ men get hold of you?”

  The girl just cried harder for a moment, and Mrs. Hanes held her tightly. “You poor child! Did they … rape you?”

  “No,” the girl choked out. “Zeke got there first.” She pulled away from the woman. “Oh, you should have seen him, Mrs. Hanes!” she added, grabbing a handkerchief to blow her nose. “He got them all—all of them! He was magnificent—everywhere at once! I never saw a man like Cheyenne Zeke! Not ever! He’s the most wonderful, strongest, bravest, and yet the kindest and gentlest and—” Their eyes met and Abbie blush deepened before she looked away. “I don’t care what you think,” Abbie added in a near whisper. “I would never have wanted it to be any other man but him. And I’ll never love another man or let another man touch me—not ever!” When she bent over and cried more, Mrs. Hanes touched her head.

  “Oh, Abbie, Abbie! You’ve let yourself in for a terrible, terrible hurt. And so has Zeke. It’s such a shame the circumstances are what they are.”

  “It’s for sure … an awful ache, Mrs. Hanes,” the girl sobbed. “I hurt … so bad! So many awful things have happened. But … it feels good to tell somebody. It’s so hard … to keep it inside.”

  “Of course it is.”

  Abbie’s body jerked in quiet sobs for a few minutes, while Mrs. Hanes just sat stroking her hair, aching for this half-woman, half-child whose mind and heart were so torn. What a terrible trip this had been for her! Abbie blew her nose again and sat up, wiping at her eyes.

  “You don’t … think I’m bad?” she whimpered.

  Mrs. Hanes smiled softly. “What a woman does when she’s in love is never bad, Abbie. And I’m very sure Zeke knows that, too. But after what he’s been through, he’s so afraid of what others would think. If he’s asked you to keep it hidden, then that’s what you must do.”

  Abbie sniffed and pulled on her dress. “He’s … leaving the train … when we get to Fort Bridger,” she told the woman. “He said he could find good scouts there to finish the trip. He thinks it’s best … to leave before we get to Oregon … be on his way and never … see me again.” She pressed her lips together, a new wave of tears wanting to come.

  “Oh, Abbie, I’m so sorry,” the woman said with sincere sympathy. “But we’ll take good care of you. You’ll have a home with us, and in time your heart and mind will heal. You’ll grow into a woman and you’ll meet another man. Life will be good for you.”
<
br />   Abbie shook her head. “It will never be good for me, not without Zeke. And I am a woman. He made me that. Besides that I even killed one of Givens’ men myself, and I dug a bullet out of Zeke and nursed him back to life. We have something special. Something I’ll never have with another man.” She breathed deeply to stop the tears. “It … feels good to tell somebody. I thank you for listening and not condemning me, ma’am. I need a friend I can talk to.”

  The woman leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be your friend, Abbie. And I agree. You’ve been through too much to be called a child any longer. I’m very sorry—about you and Zeke. Whatever happens, we will support you, Abigail. And for now I’ll keep the secret, too.” She squeezed the girl’s hand. “I must get back to my own children, Abbie. Please promise you’ll stay inside the wagon like Zeke asked. He’d be very upset if you got out. You wouldn’t want to upset him at a time when he needs to concentrate on those Crow Indians, would you?”

  Abbie sighed. “I guess not. I can peek, though, can’t I?”

  The woman smiled. “I suppose. Just don’t let those Crow see you!”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Hanes patted her arm and left the wagon, and Abbie scurried to the front, folding back the canvas and staring out to the place where the men had gathered outside the circle of wagons. She spotted Zeke right away, standing out ahead of the others and waiting as a large band of Crow men approached; the rest of the tribe had halted far in the distance. This time Zeke did not paint himself or brush out his hair, and Abbie suspected to do so was a sign of respect and that he felt little of that for the Crow. He appeared to be determined to simply act relaxed and unafraid. He leaned on his rifle and lit a cheroot, smoking casually as the Crow warriors came closer. Her heart pounded with pride and fear.

  Perhaps the Crow did not put fear into Zeke’s heart, but they put fear into the hearts of the rest of the travelers. They wore paint: black on their faces, white around their eyes, and yellow and black over their chests and arms. Abbie watched Morris Connely, who stood a little behind the others, wipe his brow. Apparently Zeke had ordered all the men to walk out and greet the Crow, but Connely was not too happy about the decision. Willis Brown stood staring with his arms folded in front of him, and the preacher stood next to him. Abbie prayed both of them would keep their mouths shut and let Zeke do the talking.