Meet the New Dawn

by Rosanne Bittner

  He picked up pen and paper. It was time to compose another article, something outrageous that would contradict the fine picture Red Cloud posed for his eastern sympathizers. They would know about rape and torture and all the other heathen things Indians committed against white settlers. This ridiculous Indian sympathy would not continue!

  Chapter Nine

  The summer night was hot, with a rare humidity in the air that made breathing difficult. Abbie lay awake listening to the threatening thunder in the distance. In all the years she had been in this land, she wondered if she would ever get used to thunderstorms on the plains. They were so fierce, so sudden and terrorizing, often violent for the short time they lasted. She knew that’s the way this one would be.

  The thunder came closer, suddenly so loud and vibrating that the ground literally shook, and Abbie jumped and screamed, grabbing Zeke and snuggling closer. He only chuckled. “You were afraid of these storms on that wagon train, and you’re still afraid of them,” he joked, kissing her hair. He gently pushed her away. “I’m going out to the barn, Abbie. The horses always get nervous when it storms. I don’t want any bruised-up animals.”

  The room lit up like daytime and she ducked her head. “Zeke, you’ll be struck by lightning!”

  He pulled on his buckskin leggings. “I should be so lucky as to die that easily, Abbie-girl.” He pulled on his moccasins. “You’d better get dressed, just in case something should happen that I need you. I’ll go get Morgan and Wolf’s Blood, although I suspect they’re both already up. With this storm, Wolf’s Blood probably already went to the barn. I’ve seen some tipis literally blow away in a prairie storm.” He pulled on his shirt, and Abbie was up, hurriedly pulling on a cotton dress. She could hear a dull roar as the wind picked up.

  “You don’t think we’ll have a tornado, do you?” she asked, pulling her long hair out from the collar of the dress. “We’ve never had one right here, you know. There’s a first time for everything.”

  He shook his head. “Quit worrying.” He squeezed her shoulder, and they heard voices in the outer room. “Now you’ve got Ellen and Jason and Sonora to keep calm,” he added. “That will keep your mind off the storm—maybe.”

  They left the room to find the three younger ones huddled at a window in the kitchen. “The lightning makes it just like daytime!” Jason exclaimed.

  “It scares me,” Ellen said quietly.

  “Lightning great medicine of the gods,” Sonora said softly.

  “Comes from Heammawihio,” Zeke added. “The Most Powerful Above.” He grabbed a deerskin cape and donned a leather hat. “I’m going to go talk to the gods,” he joked. He ducked out the door and disappeared into the darkness. Abbie opened the door a crack and watched him, catching glimpses of him as he stopped at the tipi and at Margaret’s cabin, visible when the white lightning lit up the grounds. Then she saw him run to the barn, just as the heavens opened up and a torrential rain came down. Thunder boomed with a shattering explosion again, and she slammed the door and looked at Jason, Ellen, and Sonora, who all stared back wide-eyed.

  “All of you get dressed, just in case you’re needed,” she told them. They scurried up to the left, giggling with fear and excitement, and Abbie went to the kitchen window, but there was really nothing to see. She sat down in a rocker then, picking up some knitting, but she only fiddled with a few stitches. Why did storms seem to bring back memories? There was a lonesomeness about the thunder, a reminder that such things went on forever but people didn’t. It had stormed this way once when Zeke was first bringing her to his people, after they’d left Fort Bridger as husband and wife. They were making their way through the Rockies, and a frightening storm came. They found a cave and holed up there.

  She closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair, thinking about the cave and the tender moments they had shared there, making love, their marriage new. She’d been so afraid then of meeting the Cheyenne—afraid they would hate and reject her. But they hadn’t. Those were good days, friendly days. It would not be so easy now for a white woman to be accepted by any Indian tribe. How sad that things had changed so much. But at least she had memories—those sweet memories—lying in that cave, only sixteen years old, starting out on a fateful journey through life that would lead her to places she’d never dreamed as a child she would go. She had left Tennessee headed for Oregon, and had ended up living among the Cheyenne on the Colorado plains, in the arms of a half-breed Indian called Lone Eagle.

  Thunder boomed again, violently disturbing her thoughts, and the three younger ones came charging down the ladder. Sonora went back to the window. “Will he go to the barn, too?” she asked, looking at Abbie.

  “You mean Wolf’s Blood?”

  The girl nodded, smiling shyly and looking down. Abbie laughed lightly. “Yes, he’ll go to the barn. I’m a little worried about Margaret, alone over there in her cabin with the children. She’d probably rather be here, but it’s too dangerous for her to try to run over here in that terrible rain.” It seemed to pour harder then, and the wind picked up to a howl. The little cabin creaked, and the children all looked at the ceiling and walls. “Don’t worry,” Abbie reassured them. “You father built this cabin well. It won’t fall apart.” She put down the knitting and walked over to Sonora, who watched out the window again. She put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Do you love him?”

  The girl swallowed. “He is … a fine man … strong and bold. But he has not said how he feels about me.” She turned to meet Abbie’s eyes, her young face beautiful even when just aroused from sleep. “Yes, I love him. Sometimes when he is near me, I think my heart will burst.”

  Abbie smiled. “I know the feeling, Sonora. And I think Wolf’s Blood has much feeling for you also. He just wants to be sure—to give you some time also. It hurt him very badly to see the girl he loved killed at Sand Creek. I think he’s a little bit afraid to care that much again, and yet I’m sure he already does. He lived free among the Sioux and Northern Cheyenne for a long time, Sonora. It has been hard for him to settle in one place. I think he wants to be sure he can stay in one place—sure he won’t return to the fighting—before he takes a woman. The Indian cannot ride in great tribes and with families anymore. Those who fight must do so as hunted renegades. That is no life for a young wife and perhaps babies. Wolf’s Blood knows that. He is a young man who makes sure of what he wants before he does it. But if he is not ready, and you wish to go back to the Apache, we will see that you get there. No one is forcing you to stay here, and I know what it is like to miss home.”

  The girl shook her head. “I could not be happy there—or anyplace without Wolf’s Blood,” she said quietly.

  Abbie squeezed her shoulder, and the rain lightened, the storm fierce but short. Sonora looked out the window again. Then her eyes widened.

  “The barn!” she shouted. “It is on fire!”

  Abbie’s heart tightened and she looked out the window to see flames licking the roof of the barn. “The lightning!” she gasped. “Zeke! Wolf’s Blood!” She turned to the children. “Grab some buckets!”

  Each grabbed anything relatively large that would hold water, and all four charged through the door. The thunder and lightning were already in the distance, but it still rained lightly. They hurried through the mud, the sound of whinnying horses in the distance.

  “The horses!” Abbie yelled. “We’ve got to save them!” They were their livelihood. Her only thought was that Zeke could never bear another loss—not after the Comanches had stolen his entire herd six years ago. It had taken so long to build things back up again. Just losing the barn would be a bad enough loss. And the loft—full of feed! She slipped in the mud and fell hard on her left arm, but struggled back up, the arm throbbing. But she didn’t care. She started running again, now able to see Zeke and Morgan rushing out of the barn herding six horses, shouting at them and smacking them on the rear, forcing them to run free of the barn. They ducked back inside, and then Wolf’s Blood came out, herding two more
of their best Appaloosas.

  Sonora reached him and he grabbed her, telling her not to go inside, but she wiggled loose of him and ran in to do what she could to save more. Zeke came out then, leading Kehilan, his prized stallion. “Zeke!” Abbie shouted to him. “We have buckets! What can we do?”

  He ran up to her. “To hell with the buckets. We’ll never stop it, Abbie-girl! Take Kehilan up to the house and tie him. He’s the most important one and he’s in one of his moods. I don’t want him running off!” She took the rope that was tied to his bridle. “Be careful! Don’t get behind him!”

  She nodded, her hair already soaked, her tears mixed with rain. “Zeke!” she said mournfully.

  He squeezed her arm. “It’s all right. Just do like I say. Now get going! I think we can get most of them out.” He left her then and dashed back inside the barn. Morgan came out with more, to see Margaret approaching. He shouted to her to get back to the house with the babies. “There’s nothing you can do! The babies are more important!” he shouted. She wanted to argue, but knew he was right.

  It began raining harder, and Abbie hurried with a balking Kehilan toward the house. She quickly tied him to a hitching post, making sure it was a good, strong knot. She patted the horse’s neck, trying to make him calm down, afraid the frightened animal would hurt himself. He whinnied and tossed his head, then unexpectedly threw himself sideways, pinning her momentarily between himself and the hitching post. Abbie gasped with pain at the jolt, and just as suddenly the horse moved away again. She struggled away from him, holding her ribs, momentarily dizzy. Breathing brought great pain, but she could not let that stop her. She must help.

  She forced herself back toward the barn, finding it difficult to stand up in the slippery mud. The men had managed to get a few of the horses into a corral, but most of them had gone scurrying off. They would have to be rounded up later. The important thing was to get them out of the barn. Ellen and Jason took more from their father’s and brother’s hands and led them to the corral, as Sonora came out with two more, her face and arms black from smoke. Planks could be heard falling then, and Wolf’s Blood noticed part of the hem of Sonora’s tunic was smouldering. He grabbed her and plunked her down in the mud, rubbing the burning dress into it.

  “Do not go back in there!” he ordered.

  “But I must help!” she argued.

  He grasped her arms. “Do not go back!” he ordered again. His breathing was heavy from the excitement. He placed a wet cheek against her own. “I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he told her, his lips against her ear. He pulled back, and faint lightning lit up his face. His dark eyes looked at her lovingly, and she wondered if perhaps she really was on fire. “Stay here, Sonora. Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head. In the next moment his lips were touching hers in a light kiss.

  “I am glad,” he told her. He dashed off then, helping lead out more horses as she got to her feet and watched.

  Abbie hurried up to Zeke. “What else can I do?” she asked.

  “Take these two to the corral,” he shouted, leading two mares to her. “Then get back to the house. I think we got all of them but one or two. Luckily the smaller barn is all right. All the Thoroughbreds should be untouched.”

  She nodded, reaching up for the bridles. But then a strange look came over her face and she gasped, grabbing her side and sinking to her knees.

  “Abbie!” He let go of the horses and knelt down in front of her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Kehilan … and I … had a little run-in,” she gasped. “He pinned me … against the post. Oh, I’m sorry, Zeke! I should … be helping!”

  “Damn!” he swore. “I never should have let you take him! That was stupid of me, as frightened as he was!” He quickly picked her up in his arms. “Everybody stay away now and let it burn!” he shouted to the others, his heart breaking a little at the words. But at least most of the horses were out. What else could be done? “Abbie’s hurt! I’m taking her to the house!”

  Wolf’s Blood and Sonora ran up to them. “Mother!” the young man said in alarm. “Is it bad?”

  “That damned Kehilan got ornery with her!” Zeke told him. “Sonora, you come with me. Wolf’s Blood, go help Morgan. See if you can round up a few more of the strays and get them into a corral.”

  He hurried then with Abbie, followed by Sonora and Ellen, while Jason hurried to Margaret’s cabin to tell her to stay with the children and not worry. Zeke carried her through the door and into the bedroom, laying her carefully on the bed. “Get a towel for her hair,” he told Ellen. “Sonora, help me get these wet clothes off and get a dry gown on her.”

  “Zeke, I’m all right. It’s just a rib, I think. It will just have to heal by itself. My arm … hurts more.”

  “Your arm?” He scowled, quickly pulling down her dress and getting it off.

  “I fell. My arm hurts bad.”

  Sonora threw the wet clothes on the floor. “Let’s just get her under the covers until I can look at her injuries,” Zeke told the girl. “I’ll get a gown on her later. I might have to wrap her ribs.”

  They covered her, and Ellen came in with a towel, wrapping it around her mother’s wet hair.

  “You two go on out,” Zeke told both the girls. “Ellen, get some gauze ready. He stood up and removed his own clothes after the girls went out, quickly pulling on some dry buckskins and donning a cotton shirt. He sat down on the edge of the bed, while outside the heartbreaking sound of a crumbling barn could be heard.

  “Oh, Zeke, the barn!” Abbie groaned.

  “The hell with it! We’ll build another,” he said, gently picking up her left arm. It was already red and swollen. He ran a hand along the bone, and she cried out with pain, but he had no choice. He had to be sure.

  “I don’t think it’s broken, Abbie, but it might be cracked, as red as it is. I’ll wrap it. There’s not much more I can do.” He pulled the blankets down, feeling her ribs. A bruise was making itself visible on her left side. “Damned horse!”

  “Don’t blame him,” she said weakly. “He was just… frightened. It’s just that he … moved sideways so fast, I didn’t have time to … get out of the way.”

  “It’s the same with your ribs, honey. I think you have a couple of cracked ones. All I can do is wrap them. You’ll stay right in this bed a few days and let Ellen and Sonora and Margaret do your work.”

  “But … the barn. There will be … so much to do!”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He called out to Ellen to bring the gauze, and then began the tedious procedure of wrapping the ribs and arm. He was gentle, but it didn’t seem to matter. She could not help but whimper at the pain, and it tore at his heart. It had been a long time since he’d had to see her in pain—not since … He put away the horrible memory of how he’d found her in the cave after Garvey and his men were finished with her. To think of it now was more than he could bear. There had been another time he’d helped her—a time when the pain had been much worse than this. She was only fifteen then, badly injured by a Crow arrow that he had to remove himself—a wound which later had to be burned out because of infection. There was still a scar on her back and near her left breast from that terrible time. It was then that he’d known he loved her too much to live without her. She seemed no different to him now. To him she was the same little Abbie.

  He finished with her and covered her, bending down and kissing her forehead. “I don’t suppose you planned this just to keep me around a while longer, did you?” he teased.

  She forced a smile. “Of course I did,” she answered.

  Their eyes held and his teared. “This damned land has hurt you again, Abbie-girl. I’m sorry.”

  “Since when are you responsible for thunderstorms and lightning and fires?” she asked. “Don’t be silly.”

  He bent close and kissed her lips lightly. “Try to sleep. Things will look better in the morning. I’d best go back out and get things in order. Sonora and Ellen will stay.”

/>   “How many did we lose, Zeke?” she asked.

  “I’m not certain. Only four, I think. That’s a hell of a lot better than when the Comanches raided.”

  “But the barn! The feed! Can we replace them?”

  “We’ll make do. But I’m glad now for the scouting job. Looks like I’ll need the extra money more than I thought.” He rose from the bed.

  “Zeke,” she called out. “I love you.”

  He picked up a piece of rawhide from the dresser, pulled his wet hair behind his head, and began tying the rawhide around it. “I love you, too,” he answered. He walked out, and her injuries brought on a depression as the thunder still boomed far in the distance now, the rain only a light patter on the roof. There was another loud crash outside, and she struggled not to cry because the sobbing made her ribs hurt. She watched some stray lightning through the window.

  “You’re such … a savage land,” she whispered. “That’s how our destinies will be … isn’t it?” She sniffed, tears running into her ears. “Savage. It’s only … fitting.”

  Ellen came inside then, rushing to her mother’s side. “Mother, don’t cry! Are you in a lot of pain?”

  “Not that much,” Abbie whimpered. She looked at her daughter. “I hope … life is good for you, Ellen.”

  The girl frowned and sat down on the edge of the bed, gently removing the towel from her mother’s thick, lustrous hair. “It already has been, Mother, being here with you. I like it here. I won’t go away like LeeAnn did.”

  Abbie reached over with her good hand and patted the girl’s arm. “Thank you, Ellen. Sometimes it seems … we have no control over our destiny. It frightens me sometimes … things that can’t be controlled … like the elements … like tonight’s storm. All of life is that way, Ellen.”

  The girl took her mother’s hand. “And what would you change if you could, Mother?” she asked curiously.