He glanced around the room and blinked, wiping sweat from his forehead. He began trembling and looked back at Bonnie, staring at her strangely. “Abbie!” he groaned.
She reached out to him. He grasped her hand and startled her when he jerked her close.
“Hang on to me, Abbie!” he moaned.
She rested her head gladly against the bare chest, allowing herself the pleasure of breathing in the scent of him, the ecstasy of his powerful arms wrapped around her. But she was also alarmed. She put her arms around him and pressed tight against him.
“It’s all right, Zeke. You’ve been dreaming.”
She felt him tremble and he pulled back slightly and looked down at her. “Bonnie?”
“You had a bad dream,” she told him. “You reached out and grabbed me. You spoke Abbie’s name.”
He suddenly grabbed her close again, hugging her so tightly her breathing was difficult. “Something is wrong!” he groaned. “My God, Bonnie, something is wrong! I have to go home!”
“Calm down, Zeke. Get your thoughts together.”
He rested his cheek on the top of her head. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “Let me … hold you just for a minute. It’s like I’m … holding her.”
“I am the one to be forgiven,” she whispered. “For I would let you hold me forever if it could be so.” She turned her face up to his, and somehow he thought if he could pretend for just a moment that this woman was his Abbie, it would somehow help the horrible feeling he had inside. How he missed her! How he needed her! He put a hand to the side of Bonnie’s face and bent down to kiss her, lightly at first, then more savagely, wanting so much to open his eyes and see that it was Abbie. Bonnie gave no resistance, relishing in his moment of need, knowing it would be only that, a brief moment he was experiencing between being fully asleep and fully awake.
He suddenly released the kiss and pulled back, then turned away from her. “I’m sorry,” he groaned. “I …” He ran a hand through his hair. “I had a dream. She was … calling for me … reaching for me. And I … reached back. But something kept … pulling her farther away. I tried and tried, but she kept … slipping farther away!” He shuddered and grasped the mantle of the fireplace, bending down his head. “Abbie! My God, something is wrong! I know it! I’ve had … these feelings before, Bonnie!”
“But it was just a dream.”
He shook his head. “No. You don’t understand.” He turned to look at her, his eyes watery. “I knew … way back when it happened. I knew something had happened to Danny, even though I wasn’t even aware at the time that he had joined the Confederate Army. And there have been other times, mostly involving Abbie. Our love is so strong, it’s like … like we’re the same person sometimes. When she called out for me in the dream …” He sighed and turned away again.
Bonnie seized the moment to drink in the vision of all that was Zeke Monroe. Like the Indian that he was, to stand before her half naked was nothing to him. Why should a man wear a lot of clothes when it was so wretchedly hot? She wished she could be so free with practical thinking. But she was Bonnie Lewis, the preacher’s daughter and a preacher’s wife, the missionary who had lived by specific rules all her life. She suddenly felt flushed and ashamed at the thought of letting him kiss her only a moment before.
“You must go to her right away then,” she spoke up. “Go and build a travois. I think Danny is well enough to travel. You have no choice now but to take him to Tennessee, Zeke. That way you can ride directly west through Indian territory into southeast Colorado. Danny will be in good hands and you can send word to his wife in St. Louis. It wouldn’t be safe to take Danny to St. Louis right now. There are too many Northern sympathizers. He’d be safer and rest easier at the farm.”
He turned back to face her, his eyes moving over her lovingly. “I’m sorry … about kissing you that way. I had no right. I thought for a moment I could …” He sighed and bent down to pick up his blanket.
“Pretend I was Abbie?” she finished for him.
He folded the blanket and laid it on a chair, turning to face her again. “I suppose.” He saw the pain and embarrassment in her eyes. “You’re a good woman, Bonnie Lewis.”
Her eyes teared. “No, I’m not. I’m bad. When it comes to my … feelings … for you, I’m a bad woman, Zeke.”
He reached out and touched her cheek gently. “There is nothing bad about you. The trouble with you white women is that you can’t tell the difference between bad and just plain normal feelings.”
She blinked back tears. “Sometimes our normal feelings can never be shown,” she replied.
He brushed at a tear with his thumb. “Thank you for all you’ve done with Joshua,” he told her. “You’re a fine woman, Bonnie. We’ll continue the secret. Remember how important it is that no one know, not even Joshua for a few years yet, where he really came from. You have to understand the kind of man Winston Garvey is. He’ll kill Joshua if he can ever find him.”
She nodded. “No one but Rodney and Father know.”
“Danny knows. But he’s never said a word to anyone, not even his wife.”
She sniffed and suddenly grasped his wrist, kissing his palm. “When.… will you leave?” she whimpered.
“Today yet, if I can get a travois put together quick enough. I feel an urgency, Bonnie. I must get back. Much as I don’t want to see my white father, I’ll take Danny there. Then I’ll head for Colorado as fast as my mount can go without falling on his face.”
She began crying harder, kissing his palm over and over. “Today!” she whispered. “I don’t want you to go, Zeke.”
“And even if I didn’t feel this urgency to go, what good would it do to stay?” he replied. “It is something that can never be, Bonnie. You’ve always known that.”
“I’ll never see you again,” she wept.
“It’s possible. But then our paths may cross again, just as they did here. I hope you will continue to write us about Joshua.”
She nodded, raising her blue eyes to gaze into his own. “What must you think of me? A married woman, her husband fifteen hundred miles away, weeping over another man?”
He smiled softly for her. “I think you are a woman who has always done what is right, at the sacrifice of her own desires. You are a good woman. This I have always thought.”
She turned away, making a choking sound. “I could have refused to marry Rodney,” she groaned. “Not because of my love for you, Zeke. But simply because I knew I didn’t love him anymore. But I had made a commitment. I was so …so bent on doing what was … proper! I might have met another man who …” She put a hand to her eyes. “Oh God, Zeke, he didn’t even make love to me on our wedding night! He’d never…never… he was … more frightened of it than I was!”
“Bonnie, stop it! You don’t need to tell me—”
“I do! Somehow I do need to tell you. I … I need you to understand why … after all these years … I sometimes think of you … why I let you hold me a moment ago. Oh, how I envy Abbie, who has a man who is truly a man to her! A man who understands a woman’s needs.… who shows concern and compassion. And the worst part is he …he’s good to me in all other ways. He’s not a bad husband, Zeke.”
Zeke sighed, hesitantly putting his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sure he isn’t. Maybe things will be better when you get back. You’ve been apart for a long time. And maybe you need to tell him more about how you feel, Bonnie. Maybe he thinks that because you had such a sheltered life and are so … so reserved … perhaps he thinks you aren’t capable of passion.”
She stiffened slightly and turned to face him, her cheeks crimson. “But … that’s how I have always felt about him. That he was the one incapable of such feelings.”
He gave her a supportive smile. “You might as well tell him how you feel, Bonnie. What harm can it do? You aren’t happy this way, so things can’t be any worse if you tell him. Maybe they would get better.”
She sighed and hung her head. “What kind of wo
man am I—discussing such intimate things with a half-breed Indian I haven’t seen for nine years! What is it about you that always makes me bare my soul and make a fool of myself?”
He took her chin and raised her face to greet his eyes. “You haven’t made a fool of yourself.” He bent close and kissed her cheek lightly. “I’m glad as hell I saw you again, and especially to be able to see Joshua and know how well he’s doing. Surely the spirits sent me to this place.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I must go now and build the travois. I must get home to Abbie. I am sorry to leave you so quickly, but I can’t wait any longer for Danny. Do you truly think he is ready to travel?”
She sniffed and nodded. “You have no choice, and there is nothing more we can do for him here.” She took both his hands. “Good luck, Zeke. God be with you. My father and I will pray for Abbie’s safety. And if there is any problem at all—if … if any kind of tragedy should befall you or your family … never hesitate to come to us. You know you can depend on us.”
He squeezed her hands. “Thank you, Bonnie.” Finally he turned and went through the door. Bonnie looked at his huge knife, which lay on the kitchen table with his other weapons and some clothing. She touched the handle of the knife, remembering the skill with which he had used the weapon when rescuing her so many years ago. And she knew that even if Rodney understood her needs, he would never be able to bring out from her soul the heated passions Zeke Monroe stirred there. But Zeke was Zeke, and only the very best of women, the most understanding, the strongest, could live with such a man. That woman was Abbie.
Twenty-One
Zeke’s heart tightened with every forward step of his mount. This June day in Tennessee was unbearably hot, and he slapped at bugs that pestered him as he approached the old farm. He had always hated the humidity of the South, but he knew that if his life had been happy here the weather would not have bothered him nearly as much. The closeness of the day was only enhanced by his own feeling of anxiety, a strong desire to turn and run. Not only did he not want to see this place and his white father again, but being here also brought back memories of Ellen, who had lived on the next farm, just over the hill. Ellen and Tennessee! Visions of his first wife lying in a bloody pool kept flashing into his mind, as well as his little boy lying headless. A terrible pain shot through his chest so that he actually stopped his horse a moment and groaned. He breathed deeply for several minutes, wishing the air were cooler.
He urged his horse forward again, past a sorry-looking cornfield and toward the house. Its weathered wood seemed to be sagging every place, and he wondered for a moment how it was even still standing. His jaw flexed in his own determination to be strong and hard and bear what he must bear. He would simply deliver Danny and leave, hoping he would not suffocate from his own hatred before he could get out of there again.
He wore only a loincloth and apron because of the heat, and in his determination to show his father just how Indian he was and deny any white blood, he had worn nothing that would make one think he was not even a half-breed. He wore his hair brushed out long, with tiny braids at one side that had beads wound into them. Two eagle feathers were tied into the other side of his hair, held there by a round, beaded leather hair ornament that Abbie had made for him. At his neck he wore a bone and copper necklace, and a copper band encircled the bicep of each arm. His big knife was strapped to his waist and moccasins covered his feet. He painted his war colors onto his face, for he truly was at war—at war with his own emotions.
Now he was within easy sight of the house. He could feel his own heart pounding as someone came out the door, carrying a rifle. Zeke halted. The man approaching was a younger man, with dark hair. As he came closer, Zeke saw a resemblance to Danny. He was tall and handsome, and for a moment Zeke felt intense hate, for the man looked very much like the father he had left so many years ago. The young man pointed the rifle at Zeke.
“Who the hell are you, mister?” he demanded, glancing at the travois on the back of Zeke’s horse.
Zeke looked him over cautiously. “You must be Lance. You were just a little boy when I left home. Is this any way to greet a brother?”
Their eyes met, and the man slowly lowered his rifle, his face beginning to glow with happiness, “Zeke?”
Zeke nodded. Lance just stared at him for several long seconds, absolute awe and admiration showing in his eyes. The stories he had heard about this mysterious half-brother were enough to give a person nightmares. “I’ll be goddamned!” he finally spoke up, walking closer and putting out his hand. “Yes, sir, I’m Lance. Goddamn, Pa will have a heart attack when he sees you! Jesus, this is great. Just great. I’ve only been home a month myself.”
Zeke smiled slightly, and Lance started to tell the man about meeting Abbie, but he didn’t have the chance before Zeke suddenly pulled his hand away and went rigid, his smile fading and turning to a frightening glare as he stared past Lance toward the house.
Lance turned to see his father coming down the steps of the porch hesitantly. Lance looked from the old man to Zeke, unsure just what might happen. There would be time for talking later. The younger man hurried over to his father. “Pa, it’s Zeke,” he told the man. “Zeke’s come!”
Hugh Monroe’s eyes were glued to this son he never thought he would see again. His eyes teared as he walked hesitantly toward Zeke, who still sat astride his horse, his eyes so terribly hard and cold, his posture proud and defensive. Zeke noticed his father seemed to be mere skin and bones, still tall and broad, but most of the meat gone. The man’s white wife, the mother of Zeke’s white brothers, had been dead for several years. Now Lenny was dead also, the only brother who had stayed close and helped with the farm. The loss of both was reflected in the sad state of the farm and of the old man who owned it. But Zeke would not allow any pity to enter his feelings. Why should he pity this man who had made his early life so miserable for him?
The elder Monroe came close then, staring at Zeke with eyes full of love. He blinked back tears as he took in the fine Appaloosa Zeke rode, and the magnificent specimen of man who was his eldest son. He was so overwhelmed at Zeke’s presence that he reached over and clung to Lance for support, feeling faint.
“Zeke!” he finally spoke up. “I … never thought the prayers of an old man like me … could be answered. God has truly blessed me this day!”
Zeke just glared back at him, unable to find his own voice at first, contemplating taking his fist and sending the old man flying as far as a good punch would carry him. But the old man seemed undaunted by the fiery hatred in Zeke’s dark eyes.
“Danny… has told us so much about you, Zeke,” the old man spoke up. “He was right.” He looked Zeke over again. “You did grow into a fine, handsome man. I … I guess it would seem strange now … to call you … to call you … son. You’re a full-grown, middle-aged man now.”
A sneer passed over Zeke’s lips as he slid from his horse, standing taller than either Lance or his father. “Why worry about calling me son?” he asked, his voice cold and flat. “I never called you Father.”
The old man flinched, and Zeke turned to begin untying the travois, disturbed by his own remark and the pain he had seen in the old man’s eyes when he made it. But he let himself take pleasure in the pain. The man deserved some pain. “I’m only here because Danny wanted to come here,” he spoke up.” “He’s on the travois here. He’s been wounded.”
“Danny!” Hugh Monroe gasped. “You … have Danny with you?” He and Lance walked around to the travois, where Danny was just awakening from a groggy sleep brought on by the muggy weather and his own weakness. “Danny! Danny-boy!” the elder Monroe exclaimed, stooping down and touching Danny’s face.
Danny smiled. “Pa!”
Hugh Monroe bent down and put his arms around the man, pulling him up slightly and weeping. “If only … Lenny could be here!” the man wept. “My sons! All here! Surely someone … has been praying for this!”
Zeke watched as he finished u
ntying the travois, thinking for a moment about Abbie. He was almost angry with her, for it was probably her own prayers that had created this moment.
“I’ll carry him inside for you,” he told his father. “He was wounded pretty bad at Shiloh and again in Virginia. It’s a long story. Emily asked me to see if I could find him. I’ve been away from my own wife and children far too long. I’ve brought him here to mend and I’ll be on my way in the morning.”
All was spoken matter-of-factly as he bent over and scooped Danny into his arms as though the man were a child. Lance hurried into the house to prepare a bed and Zeke started to follow Hugh Monroe, but the elder man stopped and turned.
“You go on. I walk kind of slow now. You hurry in with Danny,” he told Zeke.
Zeke stood there a moment glaring at him. “Did Danny tell you that my mother is dead now?” he asked.
The old man nodded.
“And did you shed any tears?” Zeke sneered.
The old man looked away and sighed. “Get Danny inside,” he said quietly.
Zeke headed for the house. Neither man noticed that another man watched them from the bushes, a neighbor who had come to see Hugh Monroe but had held back when he saw the Indian man there. There was no doubt about it. The Indian man was Zeke! Zeke Monroe!
“I’ll blow your guts out, you goddamned half-breed!” the man muttered to himself. “If you hadn’t married my sister, she’d still be alive today!”
The man headed back to his own farm, his mind reeling with hatred. Zeke Monroe had come back to Tennessee! He had come back to the old farm. “And he’ll be buried here!” the man growled.
Embrace the Wild Land Page 29