“Bastards!” Wolf’s Blood fumed.
Zeke watched his son, knowing the boy would like nothing better than to rejoin his Indian family and fight again. But he had Sonora now, and two children. And more than that he and Zeke had grown even closer, if that were possible. He would not leave the ranch unless it was with his father to do more scouting, for in spite of the problems, they both still knew that reservations were the Indians’ only hope of survival.
“You know what happened at Adobe Walls,” Daniels went on. “Renegade Cheyenne made a mess of things there for the buffalo hunters. Sheridan thinks that prompt and swift action against the hostiles is the only solution, with proper punishment, whatever that might be. Colonel Miles has been given full power to attack all Indians who are hostiles. A few renegades surrendered to the agency, but a lot of them are holding out because they don’t believe they’re protected from the Army. They’re not supposed to be punished if they come back to the reservation, but they remember Sand Creek and Washita. It’s been a dry summer, and the drought is sapping their ponies’ strength, so more and more have been straggling back, according to messages Lieutenant-Colonel Petersen gets. But there’s still a lot of trouble out there, Zeke. Too many have broken away. Medicine Water is out there somewhere right now raiding with a war party. And so many Cheyenne have mixed in with warring Kiowas and Comanches that Miles is planning a big offensive: five columns, moving in all directions from Camp Supply to dig out hostiles and send them packing back to Camp Supply where they belong—or suffer the consequences.”
The air hung silent and Zeke smoked quietly. “Well, I guess we all know what the consequences are that he refers to,” he finally spoke up. He met Daniels’s eyes. “Petersen didn’t send you here to get me, did he?”
Abbie’s chest ached at the words, and Daniels sighed. “Not exactly. He did tell me to let you know what’s going on—kind of warn you that he might need you again. Miles is asking for the best scouts, but he said he’d try to leave you be. But if things keep going like they are, I don’t see you getting through another year without your services being needed.
Zeke threw down the cigarette and stepped it out. Wolf’s Blood looked at the deepening shadows, then jumped over the railing to the ground. “I am going riding,” he said sullenly, walking off toward the corral. Zeke watched after him, sighing deeply.
“He’s getting as restless as the renegades,” he muttered. “He’ll not go the rest of his life without making war once more.”
“The only thing holding him here right now is you,” Abbie spoke up. He met her eyes knowingly. “If he could, he’d take Sonora right now and go fight with the Apaches, and he still might.”
“If his father can keep him from making war, then I am glad,” Sonora spoke up. “I do not want him to be in such danger even though it is in his heart to join his People again. He speaks often about his uncle, Swift Arrow, and his days in the North with the Sioux.”
Zeke frowned, feeling guilty for keeping his son from his heart’s desire. Yet Wolf’s Blood had returned on his own accord, and he had Sonora now to think about. It was not just for his father that he stayed at the ranch. However, the fact remained that Wolf’s Blood all but worshipped his father, and Zeke knew the boy would never leave again until his father rested in death. They heard a horse gallop off in the distance.
Sergeant Daniels cleared his throat. “Not to change the subject, but there is something else I’d like to talk about,” he spoke up.
Zeke leaned back, putting one foot up on the railing. “I’m listening.”
Ellen reddened and looked at her lap. Daniels looked from Zeke to Abbie, and back to Zeke. “In two years I’ll be out of the Army,” he told them. “I’m saving up—put some money down on some land east of here, only maybe a day’s ride. I intend to settle once I’m out—go into ranching like you’ve done.”
Zeke grinned, rubbing at his sore side. “And you want to settle with our daughter.”
Daniels grinned. “Yes, sir, with your permission. We’d like to be married next spring. I’ve got a long hitch ahead of me and am getting shipped down to Camp Supply till then. I think it’s best I wait till I get back to marry, seeing as how there’s so much unrest. If I come back all in one piece, we can marry. Then I’ll just have a year or so left, mostly right close at Fort Lyon.”
Abbie smiled and glanced at Zeke, who studied Daniels intently. “Well, son, I’d say by the look in Ellen’s eyes every time she talks about you, you must make her happy. Of course you can marry her. But I’d better not hear from her that you’ve mistreated her.”
Daniels put out his hand. “You’ll never hear that,” he replied.
Zeke shook his hand firmly. “Why buy land next to mine?” he asked. “Why not settle right here, help run this place?”
Daniels took a deep breath. “Well, sir, Ellen mentioned that. But this place half belongs to Morgan and Margaret, and someday it will pretty much all belong to them. I appreciate the gesture, but I want a place all my own. And we can always help each other out.”
Zeke nodded. “I can understand how you feel. Half of me is white. I know a man needs a place to call his own.” He rose, walking to the edge of the porch and looking out in the direction in which Wolf’s Blood had ridden. “And so does the Indian. The trouble is, the two differ about what can be called their own.” He swung his legs over the railing and jumped down, looking back at Daniels. “Marry her and have a good life, Hal. All of you have a good visit. I think I’ll go for a ride myself.”
He walked off toward the corral, and Abbie shook her head. “Two of a kind,” she muttered. “Always have been and always will be.”
Chapter Fifteen
It was a hard winter for Zeke, and January of 1875 found him struggling with every step, literally perspiring with pain as he forced himself to ride and do his usual chores. Abbie could do nothing but watch him suffer. It seemed the arthritis attacked every joint this time, not just his back, elbows, and hands, but his shoulders, hips, and legs, so that no position was comfortable. His only deliverance was to be half drunk most of the time. Abbie didn’t know whether to be more worried about the arthritis or the fact that whiskey was becoming a needed item. He had always opposed too much whiskey for the Indians, and had deliberately not allowed himself to drink too much of it, knowing the effect it seemed to have on those with Indian blood. But this was a different matter, and too much laudanum was more dangerous than too much whiskey. When she watched him struggle just to get out of bed in the morning, she could not chide him for the whiskey.
What frightened her most was that under these conditions he would surely decide that soon he must find an honorable way to die. She could see him overcoming great pain out of pure stubbornness. He would not let the disease keep him in bed. That was one thing he had promised himself, and he was determined to keep the promise. Abbie could see in his eyes that he did not even want to talk about it. He suffered silently, but his struggling steps and swollen hands told all, and even Ellen and Jason and the rest of the family began asking questions. He could no longer hide his ailment, but the rest of the family had strict instructions from Abbie not to mention it.
It was late January of that winter when the blizzard came, descending upon them from the Rockies with all the force that only nature herself can unleash. Zeke came from the bedroom before light, literally holding onto chairs and walls just to walk. Abbie was already up, knowing by the wind it was a bad storm, and heating the coffee early.
“It came down bad all night,” Zeke told her picking up a cup of coffee and slugging it down. “I’m going to get Wolf’s Blood and Morgan. We’d best string a rope from the houses to the barn and stables. I’ve lived out here long enough to know when a week-long blizzard is coming. We’ll be buried in another day or two.”
She studied the gnarled hands that clung to the back of a chair. “Morgan and Wolf’s Blood can take care of it. You’d better stay inside where it’s warm, Zeke.”
H
e slammed the cup down and looked at her with dark eyes that flashed with pride. “I’ll not stay inside while the others are out there in the cold doing my work for me. I’m just as capable as they are out there in the blizzard, or in bed with you! So quit looking at me like a goddamned cripple!”
She closed her eyes and turned away. The pain had made him snap at her about everything lately. He was not himself at all. Even when he made love to her, it was always almost angrily, as though he thought he had to prove to her that he was still capable of such things. She wondered if perhaps this was another thing of nature—a way of helping her bear losing him some day. Perhaps most people became ornery and bitter when they were dying, making life miserable enough for their loved ones that it was almost a relief when they were gone. She blinked back tears as he put on his winter moccasins and thick, fleece-lined deerskin coat. It had only been the last two weeks that he had been especially difficult, having few kind words for her. But it was so unlike him.
Her heart was suddenly lighter. Yes, it was so unlike him. She knew full well how much Zeke Monroe loved her. It all made sense now. He would never be cruel to her, no matter how much pain he suffered—unless he was trying to do the very thing she had been thinking, trying to make himself obnoxious enough that it would be easier on her when he was dead. Her heart tightened. Did that mean this was the winter he had chosen to die? Surely not! Ellen was to be married in the spring. The spring.
She turned to face him, swallowing back tears. “There is always a spring, Zeke,” she said quietly.
He looked at her with a scowl and saw the pleading look in her eyes, the eyes that he loved so dearly. He returned to lacing his moccasins, a difficult job for him now. “Not for fifty-five-year-old men who find pain in every movement,” he growled.
“For everyone,” she answered. “And I … I don’t want to face spring … without you.” Her voice began choking then with the unwanted tears. “And if you think being mean to me … will make it any easier … that’s a stupid thought! I want to remember you the old way … the Zeke Monroe I married. I don’t give a damn if you’re so bad you’re carried around in a gunnysack! Just don’t … don’t turn into someone I don’t know at all. Don’t give me ugly memories, Zeke. I just want my Zeke, whether he … crawls across the floor or runs and jumps … whether he makes love to me every night … or never makes love to me at all. I don’t give a damn … about any of those things and you know it! It’s you I need … the person … the man … my strength and my friend. Don’t take those things from me when I might only get to have them for another week, another year. I feel like a woman condemned!” The tears came harder then, her words almost hysterical. “How long do I have, Zeke? How long? One day? One year? Three years?” Her fists clenched and she stepped closer, her face red with anger. “You tell me! You talk about not having much time left! What about me? Have you ever stopped to think that it’s the same for me? When you talk about you dying, you’re talking about me dying also!”
He stood up and grasped her arms. “Stop it!”
“It’s true and you know it! How am I supposed to go on without you—without my Zeke? You’re all I’ve had since I was fifteen years old! I’ve lived for you—for you and nothing else!”
Their eyes held, his full of bitter sorrow. “That isn’t true, Abbie. When I met you, you were a fighter—strong and stubborn. And look at all you’ve been through. You didn’t survive because of Zeke Monroe, Abbie. You survived because of a strength inside yourself that you don’t even know you have. When I’m gone, then you’ll know. And you’ll look at all your children and grandchildren and know why you exist. It isn’t just for me, Abbie.”
Her eyes were wide with fear. “Don’t go—not yet,” she whispered. “And until you do … don’t take my Zeke from me. Let me have him the way he’s always been. If you love me, give me that much. Being cruel doesn’t make it easier, Zeke. I want every memory … to be good … like they’ve always been.”
He closed his eyes and sighed, pulling her close and embracing her. “I give up,” he told her, kissing her hair. “I never could resist those eyes of yours, or those tears. Much as this thing is killing me, I’ll try to hang on, for my Abbie.”
She broke into bitter weeping against his chest, wrapped in the still-strong arms and the fleece-lined coat. “And you won’t … be mean to me?” she sobbed.
He could not help a light laugh, in spite of his pain and the tragedy of the moment. “No. I won’t be mean to you.” He gave her a squeeze. “I’ve got to go, Abbie.” She pulled back and looked up at him, and he bent down to kiss her gently. “Just don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do, Abbie. I do what I have to do. If you want me to keep going for you, then don’t stop me. Agreed?”
She nodded, reminding herself of his tender pride. The Indian in him made him more proud and stubborn than most, and yet that was part of what she loved about him. He gave her a smile and walked to the wall where his hat hung, putting it on and then buttoning his coat. He gave her another quick smile and went out, snow blowing through the door when he opened it.
Outside the wind howled fiercely, and Zeke struggled through already deepening drifts to Margaret’s cabin, rousing Morgan awake to the still-dark morning. Then he trudged to the new cabin they had built that past summer for Wolf’s Blood and Sonora. The tipi was still erected nearby. There were times when Wolf’s Blood preferred the house of skins, especially in the summer. He had never liked a house with walls, nor had Zeke. But some things had to be done for practical purposes.
Wolf’s Blood frowned when he came to the door already dressed, also realizing this was going to be a bad storm. But he didn’t like the idea of his father being out in it. He knew how much pain the man had been in.
“Father, Morgan and I can—”
“Nonsense! I’m going to the barn to get some rope. And we’d best string it from the cabins to the main house also. I’ve known men to get lost in a blizzard and found dead ten feet from their own dwelling. I want nothing like that happening on this ranch. Let’s go.”
The man turned and trudged into the darkness toward the barn, which could not even be seen from Wolf’s Blood’s cabin. His son quickly planted a beaver hat on his head and went out, not wanting his father to walk to the barn alone. They made their way by literal instinct, lighting a lantern inside the barn. They were soon joined by Morgan. Zeke was already tying a rope to a post just outside the barn doors, while Wolf’s Blood watched the gnarled fingers work stiffly, his heart aching at the sight. The boy looked at Morgan with warning eyes. Both men knew better than to offer help or show pity. Zeke stood up then, handing the rope to Morgan.
“Make your way to the house with this. Take some extra and string some from the main house to the cabins.” He turned to his son. “Saddle up two horses, Wolf’s Blood. We left Kehilan and those two mares in the north corral yesterday. We’ve got to get them back to the barn and we don’t dare wait till daylight. This stuff is going to pile up fast and hard!”
“Zeke, it’s too dangerous to go out there before light,” Morgan objected.
“We have no choice. We’ll rope the horses together so we don’t lose each other. I can’t leave my prime stud out there.” He turned and walked back to help Wolf’s Blood, and Morgan just shook his head and began walking with the rope toward the house.
“That damned horse!” Zeke was cursing the stud Appaloosa. “Why can’t he mate any old place like other horses? Not Kehilan. He has to go off alone with his women.”
“Who would have thought yesterday we would have this problem?” Wolf’s Blood answered, putting a bridle on Zeke’s horse. “We had that thaw. Yesterday we could see lots of green. It was a nice day. I did not think those dark clouds over the mountains meant something this bad.”
Zeke threw a blanket over his horse’s back, then put on the flat Indian saddle he always used, wincing with pain as he did so. “It’s amazing how fast the weather can change,” he grumbled.
Wolf’s Blood quickly tightened the cinch for his father. “I could go alone,” he said carefully. “I can find anything on this ranch blindfolded.”
Zeke put a hand on his shoulder, and Wolf’s Blood straightened and met his father’s eyes. “Things can get too confusing in a blizzard. I’ll go with you and that’s that. I’m all right, Wolf’s Blood.”
The young man looked his father over, then turned and put his own saddle on his mount. Zeke watched him, the loyal son who was staying there out of pure love for his father. Wolf’s Blood was almost twenty-eight now. Zeke still thought of him as a boy, but he was most certainly a full-grown man and had been far longer than most. He was replica of his father, as tall and broad and strong, but perhaps even wilder at heart than Zeke.
They were soon mounted, a rope tied between the two horses from cinch ring to cinch ring so they could not lose each other. They headed out of the barn and around toward the north pasture, biting snow whipped by gale winds stinging their faces as they made their way slowly—and for Zeke painfully—toward the north corral, a half-mile ride. In such gales, a half mile could seem like ten miles, and that was how it felt for Zeke and Wolf’s Blood.
Morgan literally felt his way to the main house, tying the rope to a porch post. The door opened a crack. “Zeke?” Abbie called out.
Morgan went up the steps to the door. “It’s me,” he told her. “Zeke and Wolf’s Blood went to the north corral to get Kehilan and two mares he left there yesterday.”
“The north corral! How can they even see to get there!”
“Those two don’t need to see to find something,” he answered with a wink. But both knew how dangerous it was. “I’m going on to the cabins now, Abbie. We’re roping a path between all the houses. You just get a nice breakfast going. We’ll all need it by the time Zeke gets back.”
Meet the New Dawn Page 26