Meet the New Dawn

by Rosanne Bittner

  Birds began breaking into song as he headed for a distant butte, and an owl gave its last hoot. The sun was just beginning to peek over the trees behind him, and the moon still hung in the sky, faded by the mist. Flowers bloomed abundantly in the meadow, surrounded on all sides by hills black with pine. The morning was already warm; it would be a hot day. Zeke wondered how long it would take white men to finally invade this beautiful land and destroy it, as they surely would one day, The Sioux had won, but only for the moment.

  He heard a sound then, a strange birdcall that did not fit in with the others. He frowned, reining his horse to a halt and studying the thick forest all around him, seeing nothing. He moved his mount forward again, and again came the call. He halted a second time, wondering if he should find cover.

  “Pave-voonao!” someone hailed then in Cheyenne, a morning greeting.

  Zeke turned his horse to look behind him, his hand cautiously on his rifle. A gray wolf came bounding out of the trees then, running hard toward Zeke, but alone and not growling. Then a lone man on a painted Appaloosa appeared from the trees, holding up his rifle. “You move slowly, my father!” he shouted. “I waited two days and still caught up with you! Perhaps it was because you were hoping I would come!”

  The voice echoed across the meadow in the morning mist, and Zeke’s eyes teared. Wolf’s Blood! Did he dare believe the boy had come because he’d decided to go home with him after all? Wolf ran in circles around Zeke’s horse then, as Wolf’s Blood galloped forward, his horse’s mane and tail flying, as well as his own long hair. The young man galloped past Zeke, laughing, then circled back.

  “Once we raced every morning,” he told his father with a daring grin. “Have you forgotten?”

  Their eyes held. He would not ask—not yet. “Hell no, I’ve not forgotten,” Zeke replied. He kicked at his horse and charged off with Wolf’s Blood galloping after him, catching up and riding side by side toward the butte. Hooves thundered and horses breathed in loud, rhythmic pants, as father and son charged toward their destination, reining their horses when they reached the hill, Zeke’s horse a nose in front of Wolf’s Blood’s. For years father and son had both wondered if each was just letting the other win, or if he was really trying. They still wondered.

  Wolf’s Blood let out a war whoop and dismounted. “We will let the horses rest and enjoy this morning,” he told his father. “I love the mornings.” He met his father’s eyes. “I had forgotten how much I loved racing you in the mornings until you came to see me. And then I thought to myself how good those days were, just as my life here has been good. On the ranch I am just as free. You have given me this time—this freedom. Now I will give some of my time to my father.”

  They both breathed heavily, and Zeke dismounted slowly, his horse tossing its head and snorting, its nostrils still flaring. Zeke approached his son. “You’re coming home with me?” he asked cautiously.

  Wolf’s Blood’s smile faded. “I am—not because I know you want me to come, but because I myself want to come. I miss the ranch, the horses, my mother. But you also owe me the truth, Father. That is all I ask of you.”

  “The truth about what?”

  The boy sobered more. “You know what. You do not have to ask. Our spirits are too close, my father. Swift Arrow said he saw a fear in your eyes the first day you came to us—something he had never seen before. And then he told me he saw you in pain one morning, but you denied it. I watched you drink—something you seldom do—and I saw you that day you killed the buffalo, Father, saw you miss with the lance, saw you drop the knife. You do not have a fool for a son, Lone Eagle. And when you rode the buffalo, that was a desperate thing you did, as though a final good-bye to wild daring. If you had not done that, I might have ignored the rest. But that was not you, my father, and I want to know what is wrong.”

  Zeke sighed and walked a few feet away, taking out his tobacco pouch and rolling a cigarette. His horse walked slowly over next to him, shaking his head again and bending down to nibble at some grass. Zeke sealed and lit the cigarette, watching his horse eat as he spoke.

  “I have … pain, Wolf’s Blood. No one knows, except a doctor I saw in Julesberg. He gave it a name … called it arthritis … the crippling kind, he said. I’ve not told Abbie, and I don’t intend to—not until there is absolutely no choice. If I’m lucky I’ll—” He stopped and cleared his throat, flexing his hands. “Last winter it was pretty bad. It’s always worse in the cold, or on cool, rainy days. It’s in my back … my joints. Sometimes I feel fine for a long time, and then it comes back.”

  Wolf’s Blood frowned, looking the man over. He seemed as strong and powerful as ever. “You look well, Father.”

  Zeke finally turned to face him. “But I don’t always feel well. On the outside I seem normal. I can still fight, ride and shoot, defend my family, work the ranch. But it’s all done in pain, Wolf’s Blood. No one knows how glad I am to have Morgan there.”

  The boy’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Are you … dying?”

  Zeke sighed and reached up to pet his horse’s neck, turning away from his son as he checked the animal’s bridle. “In a sense. The disease is crippling, I’m told. It does kill, eventually. I don’t know if I have two years or ten, Wolf’s Blood. I only know I’ll not let it get to the point that I’m helplessly bedridden. I’ll find a way to die honorably first.”

  A tear trickled down Wolf’s Blood’s cheek. “You … cannot die! You are my father! You are Lone Eagle—strong and brave. You can fight many men at once and win. You are known all over this land for your skill with the knife. Men fear you! Mother needs you. You cannot die!”

  Zeke swallowed back his own tears. How he hated hurting this son! “I am just a man, Wolf’s Blood,” he said in a husky voice. “How I’ve survived this long, after all the fights and dangers I’ve been through, I’ll never know. But those are things I can handle. This … pain inside of me … is something I can’t fight … something I can’t do anything about. All the skill and bravery in the world won’t help it. If I could cut it out with my knife, I would. But I can’t and I fear I will be defeated from within rather than without. When the time is right, perhaps you can help me find an honorable way to die.”

  The young man’s shoulders jerked as he struggled against tears, and Zeke turned to face him, coming closer and putting his hands on the boy’s shoulders.

  “Wolf’s Blood, it isn’t something that’s going to happen tomorrow. And I’m forty-nine years old. That’s old out here in this land. It’s not as though I’m going to die next week, or die before my time. But the fact remains that I know what is happening, and I wanted to see you once more.”

  Wolf’s Blood swallowed hard. “I would die in your place if I could.”

  Their eyes held, and Zeke’s heart tightened with love. “Yes, I think you would,” he said quietly. They embraced, and Zeke could feel his son trembling. “I’m not really dying, Wolf’s Blood,” he told the boy. “For when I look at you, I know that I live on.”

  The boy pulled away, wiping angrily at unwanted tears. “I am glad now that I decided to come. Swift Arrow and I talked for a long time. He agreed I should come after all, even though it will be lonely for him.”

  Zeke swallowed back his own tears. “Just remember that your mother must never know.”

  “She is wise. You will not fool her forever.”

  “Then I must fool her for as long as possible.”

  Wolf’s Blood nodded, trying to smile. “Perhaps we can … ride every morning again … like we used to do. Remember how mother sometimes got angry … to wake up and see us both already gone?” His chest heaved with deep breaths in an effort not to break down. “She used to say … you were like the wind … that she could never hold you for long … or me.”

  Zeke forced a smile. “I remember.”

  The boy shook his head. “What will she do … without you?”

  “Don’t worry about my Abbie-girl. She’s stronger than even she knows. And she’
ll have you and the other children. And I’ll always be with her—and you—even in death. You know that. The spirit is a strong thing, Wolf’s Blood.”

  The boy sucked in his breath and turned away, deftly mounting his saddlehorse. “We will go to her now,” was all he said before riding off. Zeke watched after him.

  “Nemehotatse,” he said quietly. Yes, he loved this son more than anything, except perhaps his Abbie. How did a man measure love? It was impossible.

  They approached the fort carefully, Wolf’s Blood wary now of any man in a blue uniform. He had killed such men himself. His chin was held high and proudly now as they entered the fort, for he was still rich with the recent Sioux victory, and he could see the scowls on the faces of some of the men. The wind blew his long black hair to the side. His face was painted with red and yellow stripes, his chest and arms scarred like his father’s from the Sun Dance ritual. He wore only leggings and no shirt, for the morning was warm, and his dark skin glistened with moisture from his own body. He rode the Appaloosa stallion his father had given him when he first returned north three years earlier, and Zeke rode beside him now. It was difficult to tell which was father and which was son, for no two men could look more alike, except that Wolf’s Blood’s face didn’t carry the lines of age his father’s did.

  A few men watched nervously, some seemingly prepared to shoot down both of them if necessary. The soldier who had let them in did so because he’d been told these two could arrive any day. He ran to get his superior officer as Zeke and Wolf’s Blood headed for Dan and Bonnie’s log house. Wolf, whose dark eyes watched carefully followed behind, the animal’s lips slightly curled and his hair bristling on his back in a protective pose. He didn’t like white men any more than his master did. Some of the horses pranced and whinnied nervously at the presence of the animal, and a soldier called out to them, pointing a rifle at Wolf.

  “You’d best get that animal out of here, boy!” the man ordered. “He’s scarin’ the horses.”

  Wolf’s Blood turned his horse, resting his hand on a six-gun shoved into the sash he wore at his waist. “Do not hurt him! He is mine. He will harm no one.”

  Another soldier standing to the side rubbed his chin nervously. “Seems to me you’re outnumbered, boy. We don’t know why you’re here, but this isn’t exactly a good time for a stinking Indian to come riding into this fort. Like as not, we could kill you and the wolf, and you’d sure as hell not be missed by anybody. So why don’t you get that flea-infested horse killer out of here before we take care of him for you.”

  Wolf’s Blood started to remove the gun, but Zeke had turned his horse also and was beside him by then. He put a hand out, pushing against his son’s wrist. “Don’t do it,” he said quietly. “Please, son. It’s what they want.”

  “Then they can have what they want—gladly!” the boy hissed. “If they harm Wolf—”

  “That’s enough!” Zeke growled. He rode his horse forward a few feet, glaring at the two men who had made the threats. “I will tell you how it will be,” he spoke up loudly to them, his own appearance as Indian as his son’s. “If either of you harms my son or his pet, you will both die.” He whipped out his huge knife. “I might die, too, but you can bet I won’t go down until I see your guts greeting the sun!” He grinned wickedly. “Which one of you wants to see if I can do it!”

  They both swallowed and stepped back slightly, and by then Dan was running over to the confrontation. “What’s wrong here?” he asked angrily, facing the two soldiers.

  “Those men seem to think my wolf and I should be dead,” Wolf’s Blood sneered in reply.

  “Sir, that man threatened to kill us both!” the first soldier told Dan. “He waved a knife at us!”

  Dan looked up at Zeke and half grinned, then looked back at the men. “I can tell you this. He’d have done it if you harmed that boy or the wolf. This man is my half brother, and the boy is his son—my nephew! And if you knew this man’s reputation with a knife, you’d be on your knees thanking God right now that you’re still alive after threatening the boy! He’d have ripped your hide from here to kingdom-come if you’d hurt either one of them, even if he was full of bullet holes himself. Now get back to your proper business or I’ll have you punished for being troublemakers!” He looked around at the rest of them as the two soldiers eyed Zeke sullenly. “I might remind all of you that we are temporarily at peace with the Sioux and Cheyenne and are under a treaty! It’s small incidents like this that can start a whole war! These two men are my guests and will be leaving soon. If any Indians are going to be harmed, it will be at my orders, not at your own free will. Now all of you go on about your business!”

  Zeke shoved his knife into its sheath, and Dan turned to look up at both of them, grinning and shaking his head. “You two!” He eyed Wolf’s Blood. How strange it was that he had so savagely fought painted Indians himself, and here sat one who was his nephew. The boy’s shoulder still bore the deep scar from a severe wound he had suffered three years earlier. Dan and Bonnie had seen to the wound themselves, which was received in a battle between Dan and his troops and Sioux Indians. By chance, Dan had recognized Wolf’s Blood and had seen to the boy’s care. But ever since, he feared being the one responsible for the boy’s death, for although he had convinced Wolf’s Blood to go home when he was healed, he knew the boy would come back, and he had.

  “You going back with your father this time?” he asked his nephew. “For good?”

  Wolf’s Blood eyed the other soldiers with a sly sneer. “We will see.” He had promised his father to keep the disease a secret, and only to say he was coming home to appease his parents and because he was ready to stop making war, but when he set eyes on the soldiers he was not so sure he could stop fighting.

  Dan found the boy’s resemblance to his father incredible. “Try, Wolf’s Blood. Your parents want you to be safe,” he told his nephew.

  The boy’s wild eyes kept scanning the soldiers. “And where is it safe in this land for an Indian?” he shot back. Everywhere we turn there are whites who scorn us and shoot us for no reason!”

  “Wolf’s Blood, calm down,” Zeke told the boy. “You’re talking to your uncle. Dan has always helped you.”

  The boy sighed, meeting his uncle’s eyes. “I am sorry, Uncle. But white men like you are few.”

  “Come to the house, Wolf’s Blood.” He looked at the gray, menacing animal beside the boy. “Is he safe?”

  “He will do whatever I tell him. He will lie quietly and sleep, or he will tear a man’s guts out—whichever I prefer.”

  Dan frowned. “I have a twelve-year-old daughter at the house.”

  Wolf’s Blood grinned. “She is safe from the wolf—and me—if that’s what you are thinking.”

  “I was thinking no such thing. I’m only thinking she might try to pet the wolf.”

  “That would be a mistake. No one can touch him but me. But if I order my wolf to lie in a corner and bother no one, he will do so. Do not worry. Just tell your daughter not to go near him.” He grinned in a friendlier way then. “Let us go to the house. I will meet this cousin I have never known.”

  “She’s the prettiest thing this side of the Mississippi,” Zeke told his son with a smile. “Except maybe for your own sister LeeAnn.” He turned to Dan. “We’ll be on our way soon and out of your hair. I know having us here makes things difficult for you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Come on.”

  They trotted their horses alongside Dan, who walked quickly to the house then, where Abbie was coming out the door and down the steps, her eyes brimming with tears of happiness.

  “Wolf’s Blood!”

  The boy swung a leg over his mount and jumped down. He wondered if his mother ever changed. She was still beautiful, and her face hardly showed her age. “I am glad to see you, Mother.” He walked up and let her embrace him, always annoyed that white women needed to show their affection so readily, always embarrassed that she showed hers openly in front of others. But
this was his mother, and only he and his father knew how she had suffered at the hands of Winston Garvey. If she wanted to hug him openly, he would let her. He knew deep inside that she wished he’d be a little less Indian, but she had given him that freedom, had told him at an early age that if he would rather ride than sit and read and learn, he was free to do so. He had always been the wild one—the restless one.

  She leaned back and looked up at her tall, broad son. “Wolf’s Blood, my heart is so happy! I never expected to actually see you. How long will you stay? Please say you will stay a day or two. Dan won’t let the soldiers harm you.”

  He studied her beautiful face, this mother who had loved him and put up with his wild nature—this mother who was the strongest and bravest woman he knew. “I am going home—to the ranch,” he told her.

  Her smile faded, not out of disappointment, for the words brought her great joy; but it was a total surprise and it made her wonder. She frowned slightly.

  “To visit?” she asked.

  He searched her eyes. She was too damned wise. “To stay—for as long as my restless spirit can bear it.”

  She looked from her son to his father, suspicion in her eyes. Wolf’s Blood was as wild as the land he had just come from. Why was he going home? “But how? Why?” she asked Zeke.

  The man shrugged, smiling nonchalantly. “Ask him. I didn’t force him or even suggest it in the first place. But I’m goddamned glad he came riding after me. Maybe he just wants to come home and keep you stirred up again all the time. You know how his antics exasperate you sometimes. I think he misses seeing you get mad, Abbie-girl.”