Meet the New Dawn

by Rosanne Bittner

  He waved his arm around the circle of destitute men. “All of the pieces are here—right here in this prison. Look at them! Helpless! Lost! Alone! Their families murdered, raped, imprisoned, separated! Once these were men—fighting men—strong and brave and powerful! Now they are treated like pigs! They have no strength to go on. And worse than that, they have no pride left!”

  “My God, Wolf’s Blood, do you think I don’t know what’s happened? Do you think for one minute I don’t understand and sympathize? For much of my life I lived among them! Cheyenne, Apache, what does it matter? The same thing has happened to all of them. And I was married to one! I watched a great part of him die when the People were brought to their knees. When that happened, I knew he would die too. Don’t you stand there and preach to me, my son! I already know! And I am tired and beaten. I need you. Please, do this one thing for your mother! If you don’t leave with me, I swear to God I’ll stay right here! I’ll live in the same filth, eat the same slop, and die of disease right beside you! I swear by my God!”

  His heart ached for her. He saw a desperate panic in her eyes, and her words were spoken in near hysterics. Mother. His precious mother, whom he had always loved so deeply, in spite of the fact that she was a white woman. This was his father’s chosen woman. He knew how she had suffered at the hands of Garvey and his men, knew her strength, knew all she had been through over the years. Perhaps there was not much time left for her, for although she was beautiful and well-preserved, she was still getting on in years. After all, wasn’t he forty himself?

  He grabbed hold of her, for she looked like she might pass out. The guard shoved a rifle barrel into his side and told him to get his hands off the white woman. Wolf’s Blood, always quick to anger, pulled her aside, clenching his fists. “She is my mother!” he growled. “I only thought she might faint!”

  The guard’s eyes squinted. “Mother or not, she’s white, and it’s been a long time since you or any of these other bucks have seen a pretty woman!”

  The horrible suggestion in the remark brought fury to Abbie’s soul, and Wolf’s Blood himself had never felt so much anger and hatred. But Abbie’s motherly instincts made her act more quickly, for if her son made one move toward the guard he would surely be shot. She darted in front of Wolf’s Blood and pushed up on the rifle, then kicked the guard hard in the leg. He let out a yelp of surprise, and Abbie yanked the rifle from his hands while he was momentarily stunned. She walked over to a large rock, holding the rifle by the barrel, and she hit the stock over and over on the rock until the rifle broke. Her anger had brought on a strength and fury she had never felt before.

  Abbie turned to face the stunned guard, who just gaped at her. She walked back up to him, her eyes flashing, and handed him the broken rifle.

  “If I were not so desirous of getting my son out of here and getting back to my grandchildren, I would have used that rifle on you, you filthy scum!” she growled at him. “How dare you utter such garbage from that foul, stinking mouth! You are not worth all the men sitting here inside this fence, and I highly doubt you have ever come near being the brave and fearless men they once were, you smelly, fat-bellied bastard!”

  The man swallowed and stepped back. He didn’t take the rifle so she threw it on the ground. A few of the Indian men grinned, making comments among themselves about the spunky white woman who showed no fear.

  “Why don’t you just leave!” Abbie hissed at the guard. “I’m not afraid of one man here! I would rather stay locked up with all these Indians than be caught alone in a room with you. Don’t you touch my son again, and don’t you dare touch me!”

  The man’s eyes moved over her, and he scratched his chin. He had no rifle now, and he did not like the way the Indians stared at him. He could feel them laughing at the fat white man who had been kicked by a woman. He wanted very much to insult her severely, for surely she had slept with an Indian or her son would not be one. But he could tell by the eyes that were on him now that he dare not call her a dirty name or touch her. He turned and stalked out, grumbling something about sending in more guards and that she had better get herself out of there. He closed and locked the gate, and Abbie turned back to Wolf’s Blood, who stood there grinning. Oh, how he looked like Zeke when he smiled! The same handsome, provocative grin that had won her heart so many years ago.

  “So, you have not changed at all,” he told her. “I think what Father liked about you was the challenge of conquering you at all, of winning one argument with you.”

  Her eyes teared again. “How wonderful to see you smile, Wolf’s Blood.” She stepped closer again. “Please come home. Surely you want to see Kicking Boy and Iris, and they want to be with their father again. You owe it to your son and daughter to come home. And you made me that promise, Wolf’s Blood.”

  He sighed deeply. That he could not deny. His son, and his precious Iris! They had been taken from him so long ago he had long given up ever seeing them again, doubting they even lived. And they were the product of his love for Sonora—precious, beautiful, devoted Sonora, who had died trying to protect her children. Would he ever love a woman again? He placed a hand on her shoulder. No. One did not argue with this mother of his.

  “What about the ranch?” he asked. “Is that where you will go?”

  She wiped at her eyes. “I don’t think so. I visited there, on the way down to New Mexico, and we can stop there so you can see Margaret and Ellen before we go to Montana. But now that I have been away, Wolf’s Blood, I know that I cannot go back there to stay. It’s still … too painful. Too much of him is there, and my life there can never be as it once was. I am certain one day we will all gather there for a nice reunion, in your father’s memory. But I can’t live there anymore. It’s Margaret’s and Morgan’s now. But you may live there if you wish.”

  He shook his head. “No. I cannot go back either. There are many things I cannot go back to. I will go with you, Mother, to Montana, closer to the place where once I rode in war with my uncle Swift Arrow. Is he well?”

  She blushed slightly. “The last I saw him he was. He visited me only once, after I had been up there several years. For some reason he stays away.”

  He sighed. “And you do not know why?”

  She raised her eyes to meet his. “I’m … afraid to know.”

  He studied her eyes and nodded. “But you do know, don’t you?”

  She looked away. “I don’t want to talk about that. Please. Come with me now, Wolf’s Blood.”

  He led her to the gate. “You go and wait at the guardhouse. Who brought you here?”

  “Your uncle Dan. Bonnie is dead now, Wolf’s Blood. I think this trip has been good for Dan. If not for him, I could not have accomplished any of this. I have him to thank. And his daughter came also.”

  Wolf’s Blood felt a rush of blood to his brain and he actually tingled. “Jennifer?” he asked carefully. “She is … here?”

  Abbie caught the look and was surprised. “Yes. She lives with Dan now—she and her little girl. She’s been widowed for quite some time. When we told her we were coming to get you, she—” She stopped short, seeing the eagerness in his eyes. She was astounded. She had never thought her son had given Jennifer a second thought after meeting her all those years ago at Fort Laramie. He put a hand to his hair.

  “Will you do me a favor, Mother? Take her away from here—to the hotel or wherever you are staying. Have Dan stay—with some clothes. He can help me find a place to wash. I … I do not want anyone to see me this way. And give me a little time here, with my friends, to say good-bye.”

  She touched his face. “Thank you, Wolf’s Blood.” She choked back tears as she turned and quickly left, her heart full of love and gratefullness—and her mind raging with curiosity at his reaction to Jennifer’s name. She was well aware that it was only for Jennifer that he wanted to clean up before meeting them.

  The trip home found all of them quiet. Much was behind them now, and somehow they must all pick up the shattered piec
es of their lives and finish out their years. Wolf’s Blood’s sullen, silent mood was soon broken by unending questions from Jennifer, who babbled as though she were twelve years old again, her eyes alight whenever they fell on the handsome Wolf’s Blood. He in turn found her amusing, refreshing, beautiful—disturbingly beautiful. Did he dare give in to his amorous thoughts of her—thoughts he had had for years, thoughts that had emerged every once in a while? After all, she was not only a cousin—although not as direct as most cousins—but she was also a white woman. Perhaps because their fathers had had different mothers, there was a way.… He shook off the thought and answered her endless questions about Indians, watching her full lips as she spoke, studying the provocative green eyes, taking in her fine shape and seeing in her a woman of substance and devotion.

  But he could not help thinking of Sonora, beautiful Sonora. So much was gone. He had hated the railroads as much as any Indian, yet now he rode on a train. At least he was a passenger, rather than riding in the cattle car he had been shoved into when shipped to Florida. He wondered if he could ever be happy again, after seeing what had happened to the Apaches, remembering Sonora’s savage killing at the hands of soldiers. How twisted and confused his life had been, moving in and out of his white and Indian worlds. At least he would see his son and daughter again. Somehow he must pick up the pieces, as his mother had said, and at least be a father to his children, although they were already half grown. The first thing he would do was start going for rides with Kicking Boy, as they had done when the child was small, and as Wolf’s Blood had done with his own father so many years ago. Riding! Riding on the free wind. Yes, at least the wind was still free.

  Jennifer interrupted his thoughts again with still another question, her green eyes dancing. He wondered if she knew how much she disturbed him.

  Across from them Abbie sat resting, her eyes closed. Her brief nap was disturbed when she felt a hand close around her own, and she opened her eyes and turned to face Dan, who was watching her closely. “I want to talk to you, Abbie,” he told her, “about something I’ve been putting off.”

  She felt her face flushing and she looked at her lap. “Yes?”

  “Maybe we should get married,” he said quietly.

  She looked at him in surprise. “Married?” He was so handsome—a good man, strong and sure like Zeke. But still … she looked back at her lap. “Dan, I know you have feelings for Rebecca Moon. I’ve watched how you look at her, seen your eyes light up when you talk to her. I … don’t want you marrying me … out of some kind of duty. Nor could I marry you just because you’re lonely and want a wife again.”

  “But I love you, Abbie. We’d be all right.”

  She smiled, blushing when she looked at him again. “I am sure we would. And I love you, too. But is our love the kind a man and woman should have for each other when they marry?” He frowned and she squeezed his hand. “Dan, you’re a wonderful man, and most certainly a handsome one. I would be honored to be your wife—very honored. But I’m just not sure I want that yet, or that I am ready for it. And I think you should pursue your friendship with Rebecca, to be sure how you feel about her. I’m all right. Really I am. I have my children safe and sound now, and I have my grandchildren. I’m not saying no. I’m just saying we should wait.”

  He sighed and leaned over to quickly kiss her temple. “The offer is there, Abbie. And I don’t think it’s just Zeke’s memory or any uncertainty you have about me that makes you say no. It’s something else, and you’d best get it straight in your heart and mind.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He leaned back and began stuffing a pipe. “Wolf’s Blood asked me what I thought of how Swift Arrow was doing. I told him I hadn’t seen the man in years.” He watched her look away and start to blush. “He told me he was surprised, because you had seen him.” He lit a match and sucked on the pipe to light it. “Why didn’t you tell me you saw him, Abbie?”

  She wrung her hands nervously. “I … don’t know. I just … it was just … for a moment … after that dance we went to. He was waiting for me in the shadows. He only stayed long enough to be sure I was all right … and to let me know he was well. Then he left. I haven’t heard from him since.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” He puffed on the pipe and she looked at him.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m no fool, Abigail. I’ve suspected for years why Swift Arrow stayed in the North, away from the only family he had, away from the brother he loved so much, the nephew he worshipped. It takes more than the excuse of making war to make a man do that. And then I began wondering why, when you came to Montana, he would never come to see us. He knew he no longer needed to fear arrest and imprisonment. And the reservation in Montana is better than most. He could have come down. Can you think of a really good reason why he wouldn’t?”

  She swallowed, looking at her lap. “No,” she said quietly.

  He puffed the pipe more and put an arm around her. “Well, I can. And when we get back, I can arrange an escort to take you to a place near where we think he might be—roust him out of there for you and bring him to the reservation, if you want. Or … we can leave you up there with him … to get a few things straight. And I will think about Rebecca Moon, as you say I should. But I have no deep feelings for her at the moment, Abbie. And I am telling you now that after you have spoken with Swift Arrow, if and when you return, I would like you to be my wife. The offer holds. I will love you and be devoted to you and provide for you—defend you. As far as the physical things that go with being man and wife, I’d not touch you unless you wanted me to. I know that your heart and memories are still full of Zeke, even after all these years. But I would also understand if there is someone else who brings out passions in you that have been too long buried.”

  She blushed deeply, still staring at her lap. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And you’re embarrassing me.”

  He grinned and puffed his pipe. “You know good and well what I am talking about. You think about it, Abbie. I’ll accept any decision you make, and I’ll love you, no matter what that decision is.” He gave her a squeeze and patted her arm. “Follow your heart, Abigail, just as you’ve always done. That’s what Zeke would tell you.”

  She wiped at unwanted tears with nervous fingers. Why had he mentioned Swift Arrow? Why did he think she should see him? It was ridiculous! And yet … yes, he was right that she should follow her heart. Zeke would want that. Zeke. What was left in her heart to give after losing him? Was a woman capable of ever loving again after living with such a man?

  The train rumbled on, none of them aware that another train was headed back east, carrying more Apaches to Fort Marion, Florida, among them the infamous Geronimo himself as well as faithful scouts who had served the Army well, only to be made prisoners and sent to Florida with their brothers.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Several Cheyenne men sat in a large circle, not far from the small school for the white children of the reservation. They passed around a bottle of whiskey, laughing and gambling, sharing stories of days when they made war and hunted. Those days were gone, and there was nothing now for them to do but talk about them. Wolf’s Blood sat among them, collecting bets on a knife-throwing contest.

  “We will see if you are anything like Lone Eagle,” one old warrior told him. “Your father could not be matched.”

  “You forget he is the one who taught me,” Wolf’s Blood replied.

  “You must split an arrow,” the old man told him.

  Wolf’s Blood stood up, his hand on the shiny Bowie knife his father had bought for him nearly twenty-five years ago, when Wolf’s Blood participated in the painful ritual of the Sun Dance, now a forbidden practice, although many warriors snuck away each summer to hold their important religious sacrifice anyway. The missionaries on the reservation considered it barbaric, having no understanding of the deep spiritual importance the ritual had for the Indians.

  “Somebody shoot an ar
row into that tree,” Wolf’s Blood declared, pointing to a tree near the schoolhouse. “I will be rich when you all pay me.”

  They all laughed, some of them passing the whiskey bottle again. One warrior stood up with bow in hand, but he was so drunk he could not get the arrow out of its quiver. There was more laughter, and Wolf’s Blood took it out for him, taking the bow from the man’s hand and shooting the arrow himself.

  “At least you can hit a tree with an arrow!” one man hooted.

  Wolf’s Blood grinned and pulled out the Bowie knife. “Guide my hand, my father,” he said quietly. He had tried this many times, coming close but never exact. Zeke Monroe never missed. Wolf’s Blood breathed deeply, then flung the shining blade. There was a cracking sound as the arrow shaft split, and the tip of the knife rested just below the tip of the arrow, but not before splitting the entire shaft.

  Wolf’s Blood let out a war whoop and the others did the same, making a noisy ruckus as they slapped him on the back and began paying him. The door to the schoolhouse opened, and Jennifer appeared at the top of the steps. She marched down them and toward the men, her heart fearful of the drunken Indians, but her anger too great to stop her.