He only needed to walk a few feet from the steps before he disappeared again into the blizzard. Abbie shoved the door closed with difficulty and walked to her cook stove, putting in more wood and setting a black frying pan on the hot plate. She dug some bacon from the lard that preserved it and began cooking. She must keep busy. It was the only way to not worry.
Zeke and Wolf’s Blood reached the north corral after almost forty-five minutes of urging their mounts through deep drifts, using a cottonwood tree here, a nearly buried berry bush there as landmarks to tell them they were going in the right direction. When Zeke reached the fence he felt a great relief. He whistled for the horses, calling their names, shouting in Cheyenne. He heard nothing but the wind, his heart tightening. He did not want to lose Kehilan, but it would not be unlike the nervous animal to become confused in the blizzard and leap the fence. If he did and was lost, he would freeze or starve, whichever came first. He called again, whistled again, and finally there came a whinny. The unpredictable stud loomed into the light of the lantern Zeke waved.
“Here he is!” Zeke called to Wolf’s Blood. “Keep calling the mares.” He hung the lantern over a fence post, talking softly to Kehilan until he managed to get a rope over the horse’s neck. He tied it to a post to keep the animal in sight until the mares showed up. Both men kept whistling and calling until finally the mares made their way toward the light of the lantern. Wolf’s Blood roped both of them.
“I’ll take Kehilan,” Zeke shouted. “You lead the mares. Let’s move slowly along the fence until we get to the gate. Then we’ll swing them out and get back to the barn.”
“I am ready!” Wolf’s Blood shouted back. Zeke lifted the lantern, holding it in his left hand while he held Kehilan’s rope in the other hand, not even grasping the reins as he urged his horse forward with gentle Cheyenne commands. The animal obeyed, and they reached the gate. Zeke had to dismount to open the gate, which was stuck against a large drift. He hung the lantern on a post again, then tied his own horse, still hanging on to Kehilan.
“I’ve got to force the gate open,” he told Wolf’s Blood.
“Be careful! Do you want me to do it?”
“I can do it.” He kicked at the snow, clinging to the rope as he bent over to dig away enough so that he could get the gate open. Kehilan began getting nervous, and he tugged hard at his rope, yanking Zeke’s arm painfully. Zeke cursed and kicked at the gate, opening it enough to go inside. He tied Kehilan, then pushed and kicked at the gate more until it opened enough to get the horses through it. He untied Kehilan then and the nervous animal began pulling away. Zeke shouted commands in Cheyenne that usually kept the prized stallion under control, although even for Zeke that was not an easy task. The horse seemed especially stubborn, confused by the gale winds, and the darkness.
Wolf’s Blood could hear his father shouting commands at the screeching and whinnying animal, and knew it must be rearing and tugging. He also knew that Zeke was in great pain. The young man quickly dismounted, tying his own horses and struggling through the snow toward the gate. He ran up to Kehilan, grabbing the horse around the neck and shouting his own commands, and both men struggled with the animal until he was through the gate. The stallion tried to run off then, and Zeke hung on for dear life. Wolf’s Blood reached around his father and held the rope with him. It took both of them to get the horse close enough to the fence to tie the rope around it and hold him until they could get the two mares out. Wolf’s Blood hurriedly got the other two horses out, also tying them outside the fence and then running back to his father, who had sunk into the snow beside the fence, holding his side.
“Father! Are you all right?”
Zeke lay back in the snow, panting. “I … can’t get up, Wolf’s Blood. Not … yet.”
Wolf’s Blood knelt close to him. “Are you hurt?”
“Kehilan … kicked me … in the side where I took that damned buckshot.”
Wolf’s Blood bent closer and raised Zeke’s head. “What can I do? Should I go for help?”
“No!” Zeke took a deep breath. “I’ll be all right … in a minute. It isn’t so much … the kick. It’s the damned … arthritis.” He breathed deeply before continuing. “It’s … so bad this time, Wolf’s Blood. I … get down … and it takes everything I have … to get back up. Just … let me lay here a minute.”
The young man’s eyes teared. He had never seen his father this bad from something besides an injury. And it was the first time he truly realized this thing his father had could cripple and kill him. It was not that he didn’t believe his father when he first told him. But he had not envisioned it could really be that bad. He stood back and waited, knowing his father was too proud to ask for help in getting up. Zeke rolled over then, grabbing a fence rail and pulling. Then another rail and another, until he was on his feet, but still clinging to the fence. He threw his head back and breathed deeply before going to his horse and struggling to mount up.
“You … take the lantern,” he told his son. “I’ll tie the stallion to my own horse. That way I won’t have to hang on to him myself.”
Wolf’s Blood nodded, taking the lantern and holding it up to see his father. “Are you sure you can ride?”
Zeke leaned over, untied Kehilan, and began tying the animal to his own horse, his swollen fingers having difficulty in making the knot. “I can ride,” he replied. “Do me a favor and don’t tell Abbie about the kick, will you?”
“But, Father—”
“Don’t tell her! And don’t tell anyone I couldn’t get up out of a lousy snowdrift!”
Wolf’s Blood reached up and grasped the man’s forearm. “So what if you couldn’t!” he shouted at his father. “No one in all this land would ever deny that you are more man than any of them could ever hope to be! You are Lone Eagle, whose knife is great medicine, and whose name is feared by all men who know you, men who would not even think of going against you, even now, because they know nothing can stop you—not even the pain you bear.”
Zeke looked down at him from his mount. He knew this son of his would be as lost without him as Abbie would—at least for a while. He could not speak harshly to his child, who would die in his place if he could. “It’s all right, Wolf’s Blood. Just do like I say and don’t tell Abbie. Promise me.”
The boy nodded.
“Now let’s get the hell back to the barn before we all freeze out here!” Zeke shouted.
Wolf’s Blood ran back to his own mount, untying the horse and the two mares. He held the ropes of the two mares in one hand. They would be easy to lead—much easier than the ornery Kehilan. He waved the lantern, signifying he was ready, and they headed back, following traces of the path they had already made but which was fast being covered by new snow.
It turned out to be a harsh winter, both in weather and for Zeke’s arthritis. Spring was a most welcome sight, and with the melting snows came relief from the pain that had ravaged Zeke all winter. The swelling diminished. His old nature returned, except that he went through a new kind of suffering—withdrawal from the whiskey and laudanum he had grown dependent upon over the winter. He was determined that whiskey would not turn him into a useless mate, that nothing—not the arthritis or the whiskey or any medicine—would control Zeke Monroe. He spent two weeks in the foothills of the Rockies with Wolf’s Blood, doing nothing but praying and renewing his spirit energy, suffering through a mild withdrawal. He returned an almost changed man, his relief over the subsiding arthritis putting him in a good mood, so good that he was again amorous in the gentle, teasing way that Abbie knew him best in bed. Both knew another winter would come, and perhaps he would go through the same thing again. How many more winters he could take that way he wasn’t sure himself. But perhaps they would get lucky and the next winter or two would be kind to him.
It was the first of May when Sergeant Daniels came riding in. He was warmly greeted by everyone. Ellen literally ran to him from the garden, hugging him boldly, not caring who saw, for she had not see
n her husband-to-be all winter. She was nearly nineteen now, a beautiful young woman, her cheeks flushed with excitement now that he was here.
“Hal! How long do you have?”
He knew she was wondering how soon they would leave for Pueblo to be married. But his smile faded as he quickly kissed her cheek before the others reached them. “I have three weeks, Ellen, but I’m not sure we can use them.”
She frowned, her eyes quickly tearing. “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”
Zeke came riding up then, looking as strong and hard as ever, wearing only his fringed leggings, for it was a warm day. Daniels thought again what a formidable sight the man made, and it was hard to believe Ellen’s letters about how sick her father had been over the winter. Zeke nodded to Daniels and dismounted, and Abbie approached from the house. Daniels stood with his arm around Ellen, not wanting to let go of her just yet. He shook hands with Zeke.
“So when do we all go to Pueblo for the wedding?” Zeke asked with a grin.
Daniels looked from Zeke to Ellen and back to Zeke. “Well, I’d like to go ahead and get married, sir. But I’m afraid Petersen has asked that you go directly to Fort Lyon. You’re to go from there up to Fort Robinson and try to talk some hostiles into getting back down to Camp Supply.”
Zeke frowned, looking at Abbie, who closed her eyes and turned away. “What’s happened?” Zeke asked.
“It’s been a bad winter, sir. You know what a hard one it was. Many of the hostiles who had been holding out surrendered: White Horse, Stone Calf, Red Moon. In early March, Gray Beard came in. They all surrendered at Fort Sill. Then instead of sending them on down to the reservation, the military authorities decided certain leaders of the hostiles should be arrested and sent to Fort Marion in Florida.”
“Fort Marion!” Zeke exclaimed.
“Dear God,” Abbie said quietly.
“I know. It’s a hellhole. Few Indians who are sent there ever live long enough to get out again. There isn’t a Plains Indian alive who can stand the swamps and heat and mosquitoes of that place.” He looked at Wolf’s Blood. “If I were you, Wolf’s Blood, I’d forget about ever rejoining in any fighting. Most of the hostiles are sent there now when they’re caught. The old ways are just plain gone. Things are getting bad again up north, too. The Sioux and Northern Cheyenne are restless. More and more settlers are coming into Indian territory again, ignoring the treaty. Crazy Horse is in a tuff, that’s sure. At any rate, there are a few left up at the Red Cloud Agency wanting to come back down but afraid to. They’d gone there during the winter for shelter. Petersen thought maybe you’d go up there and accompany some of them back south, seeing as how your brother Dan is up there—and Swift Arrow. You might want to see Swift Arrow once more, because I have a feeling there will be more fighting up there, Zeke. General Custer has been sent there. He led the battle at Washita, if you’ll remember.”
Wolf’s Blood clenched his fist. “What about the ones arrested?” he asked.
Daniels shifted uncomfortably. “Well, you know how the Indians feel about arresting male prisoners. They don’t understand it at all. The Indian always kills his male prisoners. To be arrested and shackled is a total disgrace, and I don’t think there’s an Indian alive who understands the white man’s form of justice. The authorities picked out Gray Beard, Lean Bear, Medicine Water—even Medicine Water’s wife, Calf Woman—and they picked out some just at random. When they started putting leg irons on the men, the women there began singing war chants. Well, you can imagine what happened next, with the men’s pride stepped on by being arrested and the women singing war songs.”
Wolf’s Blood tossed his long hair behind his shoulder. “They broke loose!” he said with a grin.
Daniels nodded. “They did. But the guard opened fire, while men, women, and children began running in a panic for the sand hills about a mile south. They dug in for a fight, so the soldiers brought in reinforcements during the night, but in the darkness most of the Indians—even women and children—slipped right through the troops. In the morning the soldiers prepared for an attack, but found the Indian stronghold deserted.”
“Good!” Wolf’s Blood hissed. “The white man will never learn to be as quiet as an Indian can be! That is a good trick they played on the soldiers!”
Daniels grinned a little. “It was. But you know those tiny victories can’t really help, Wolf’s Blood. And the way the authorities are getting, it wouldn’t be wise for you to show too much happiness over any Indian victory. They’re liable to arrest you, too. That’s how bad things are.”
“What happened to the Cheyenne who escaped?” Zeke asked.
“Most finally decided to go back, but they’d run into Little Bull’s party, which was on its way in to surrender. News of the arrests at the agency and of some random killing of Cheyennes scared him off, and he turned north. Little Bull is quite a warrior, you know. He stopped to rest at the north fork of Sappa Creek, up in Kansas. A bunch of damned buffalo hunters spotted them and sicked the soldiers that way. A Lieutenant Henely was leading the soldiers who were chasing down the hostiles. He attacked Little Bull’s village. You know the method—attack at dawn by surprise. The addition of the buffalo hunters’ long guns did the job. A lot of Indians died, I’m afraid, including women and little ones. Little Bull was killed too. The few who escaped went on north and are under the protection of the Sioux at the Red Cloud Agency. Petersen thought maybe you could persuade a few of those to come back to Camp Supply.”
Abbie turned around, her eyes wet with tears. “When will it end? When there isn’t an Indian left on the face of the earth? Is that what it will take?”
Daniels sighed deeply. “I think this is the end of it—at least for the Southern Cheyenne, ma’am. There will still be some fighting in the north, that’s sure. Your husband would be wise to go up there and try to see Swift Arrow once more. It will even be dangerous for his white brother. He’s right in the middle of everything.”
Zeke rubbed at his eyes. “I’ll ride to Fort Lyon. And I’ll go north and see what I can do. But I’ll not bring Indians back south to be executed or sent to prison.” He looked at a dejected Ellen, then back to Daniels. “You two go on to Pueblo and get married. There’s no sense putting that off. You have the time Daniels. You needn’t go back with me. You’ve waited a long time to make Ellen your wife.”
“But Father, you should be there.”
He just grinned. “I don’t think you need me for what you two have to do. And my presence at the ceremony won’t matter much. Besides, I’m uncomfortable around a white preacher.”
Ellen reddened deeply and Daniels put out his hand. “Thank you, sir.”
Zeke shook his hand again. “She’d better come back with a happy look on her face, that’s all. You know what I’m talking about. You’ll be gone again by the time I get back, but if my daughter is unhappy, you can bet I’ll look you up.”
Ellen covered her face bashfully and Daniels held her closer. “She’ll be happy.”
Zeke looked at Abbie. “Maybe you’d like to go to Pueblo with them,” he told her. “It would help keep your mind off things for a while.”
“Oh, Mother, would you?” Ellen asked. “I want one of you there. I don’t want to get married without any of you around. And it would help keep you from worrying about Father.”
Abbie was watching Zeke. “Anything could happen. It takes nothing to trigger the Indians now, and the soldiers. I don’t want you getting caught in any cross fire.”
“I’ve been caught in cross fire before, Abbie-girl. This doesn’t sound that dangerous, and I would like to see Dan and Swift Arrow again. You go to Pueblo with Ellen. Wolf’s Blood and I will be back by July or August.”
She turned her eyes to her son. “And what will you do when you get north and see your uncle again? Will you come back?”
Wolf’s Blood met his father’s eyes. No. He would not leave his father, and he had Sonora. He looked back at his mother. “It will be tempting to stay.
But like my father, I know those days are over.”
“Do you?” Abbie challenged. “Will I really always have you here at the ranch, Wolf’s Blood?”
He sighed and looked at the ground for a moment, then met her eyes again. “I can only promise the present. And I promise I will return with my father from the North.”
A soft breeze blew, causing the tiny bells her son wore braided into his hair to tinkle. For a moment Abbie could hear drums and chants. She knew deep in her heart that the warring would not end without her son getting involved again at some point. And as she had always done with his father, she would have to simply take one day at a time and be grateful for that day’s blessings, trying hard not to worry about tomorrow. She turned to Ellen.
“I will go to Pueblo with you. You deserve that much. When we come back, you and Hal can stay in Wolf’s Blood and Sonora’s cabin until Hal has to leave again. Sonora and the children can stay with me in the house.”
Ellen hugged her. “Thank you, Mother!”
Abbie just looked at Zeke. Again he would go away. Again she would wonder if he would come back.
Chapter Sixteen
Abbie watched the ceremony with an ache in her throat. It seemed only yesterday that Ellen was just a baby. All she had was Jason, but even he was no longer a child—not at sixteen.
She buried her resentment at the preacher’s questions before he issued the marriage certificate.
“Nationality?”
“American.”
“The parents?”
“My father is Ezekiel Monroe. His mother was Cheyenne,” Ellen answered proudly, not afraid to tell him. “His father was a white man, from Tennessee.”
The minister had frowned and glanced at Abbie. “And you are the mother?”
“I am. Abigail Monroe. My maiden name was Trent, and I have no Indian blood. I came here from Tennessee in 1845.”
The man’s eyebrows arched. “You must have been just a baby.”
Meet the New Dawn Page 27