Meet the New Dawn

by Rosanne Bittner

  “I would like it quiet!” she announced in a loud voice. They all turned to stare at her. The way some of them looked at her, she felt naked. “I am trying to teach inside that school,” she told them. “Perhaps most of you don’t care about learning anything, but the children inside do, and I can’t teach them when they’re all hanging out the windows watching Indians drink and make bets! Now you men go find someplace else to have your fun or I will report you to the agent.” She glanced at Wolf’s Blood, then blinked back tears and walked back toward the school.

  One of the Indian men began mimicking her walk, parading around with a sway to his hips. The others laughed, and when Jennifer caught the game she reddened and hurried inside.

  “That white one needs a man,” one of the younger warriors commented, taking another slug of whiskey. “Maybe we should give her another kind of education.”

  The whiskey bottle was suddenly slammed out of his hand, as he was grasped around the throat and shoved to the ground. “Touch her and I will kill you!” Wolf’s Blood hissed. He held the man there until his face turned darker and his eyes bulged, then released him, rising and walking to the tree to yank out his knife. He held it out toward them all. “The next one of you who makes a remark about that woman will be bleeding to death!” he warned.

  They all quieted and backed away. Wolf’s Blood shoved his knife into its sheath. He turned and walked past the school. Jennifer watched him through a window. She hurried out the back door then and called to him. He stopped but did not turn to face her, and she hurried up to him.

  “I … I heard what you said. Thank you, Wolf’s Blood,” she told him.

  He turned to face her then, his eyes angry. “You do not understand why they are that way. I do! But I am not like them. I was not drinking the whiskey. I visit with them, play games with them, because I feel sorry for them. They have no hope, and they have lost their ways of proving they are men. The whites do not understand what goes on in the heart of an Indian!”

  He turned and she grasped his arm. “Don’t go yet,” she pleaded. He faced her again. “Wolf’s Blood, you’re such a fine man. I know you don’t drink whiskey and such, but if you sit around with them every day, you will become just like them. I … I don’t want you to be that way … sitting around drunk, no purpose to life.”

  His eyes moved over her body. Since the trip back north, having to look at her every day, answering her endless questions, he could not help but want her. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever set eyes on. But she was so white, not just in looks, but in nature—so proper and educated. She had been married to a successful man and lived in Denver for many years. She was not the kind of woman for a man like himself.

  “And how would you have me be?” he asked.

  She blinked and let go of his arm. “You have a son and a daughter. Your father settled into ranching. He lived mostly like a white man, but he didn’t abandon his Indian beliefs and spirit.

  He snickered sarcastically. “Why should I settle now? My children are half grown, and because of the white man’s government and Army, I was deprived of being a father to them for many years. My woman was killed before my eyes. A man needs a woman to settle. That is the only thing that gives him any desire at all to stay in one place and stay off whiskey. A man needs someone who—”

  He caught the look in her eyes, and she suddenly blushed and turned away. She put her hand to her face, as though she were wiping at tears. He frowned and moved closer, peeking around at her. “What is wrong with you?” he asked.

  She moved away again. “You’re so … so … exasperating!” she whimpered. “Why do you insist on embarrassing me!”

  He folded his arms. “How have I embarrassed you?”

  She turned, tears on her face and her lovely green eyes angry. “How many ways do I have to show you?” she asked, her fists clenched. “Why do you think I kept that … that stupid war shield all these years … and the coup feather? Why do you think I came with my father to get you out of prison, and asked you all those questions on the way back?” She began to redden more. “I’ve … I’ve loved you since I was twelve years old! But then I never thought it was possible for two people like us to ever be together. I married another man, but there were … so many times when I thought about you.”

  He stared at her in surprise, and she turned away again. “I know we’re cousins, but our fathers had different mothers, and for years we never even saw each other. It’s like … like we aren’t even related, Wolf’s Blood. In a lot of cultures … it’s all right for cousins to marry. And we aren’t even full-blooded cousins. I know I don’t understand everything about Indians, but I can learn … and I’m strong. If… if you wanted to maybe start a ranch … like your father did … I could help you. I wouldn’t mind.”

  He stepped closer, putting his hands on her shoulders, studying the luster of her red hair in the sunlight as she stood there with her back to him. He reached up and lightly ran his fingers over her hair, and she wondered if she would faint at the touch.

  “Since that one time I met you all those years ago, I also thought of you many times,” he told her quietly. “But I never thought … such a thing could be … or that someone like yourself would consider being the woman of a man with Indian blood.”

  She sniffed and turned, her head hanging. “I don’t think you realize … how desirable you are, Wolf’s Blood,” she said quietly. “And I have talked to your mother many times. I know the kind of son you were. You are a fine man, strong and good. And I am afraid I am so much in love with you I can barely sleep at night.”

  His heart pounded wildly. She loved and wanted him! He had not considered that she would. He had thought her interest in him was only curiosity, with some feeling only because they were related. He embraced her fully, and she cried quietly against his chest.

  “I … have money from my share of the ranch in Colorado,” he told her. “I can have some of the horses anytime I want them … if I choose to start a ranch of my own. Do you like it here in Montana?”

  “I wouldn’t care where we were,” she answered, clinging to him.

  He smiled, holding her tighter. “I could start a ranch up here. I think I would like to stay here. Back home in Colorado, it hurts very much to be on the ranch my father built. It is Morgan’s ranch now. I think I would like to start something of my own right here.”

  She looked up at him, her face flushed. “Are you saying … you want my help?”

  He put a big hand to the side of her face. “You could not stay there and help me unless you were my wife.”

  She closed her eyes. “I would like to be … if you would want it so.”

  In the next moment warm lips pressed against her own in a tender kiss that made her feel faint with desire. The kiss lingered, turning from gentle to more urgent. Neither of them had satisfied such needs for a very long time. His lips finally moved from her mouth to her cheek, her throat.

  “I want it so,” he whispered. “Today, if it can be done.”

  The thought of being one with him sent shivers through her body, and she was sure that if he let go of her this moment her legs would not hold her. “I will be the best wife you could ever want,” she told him softly.

  The six soldiers with Abbie stopped at the foot of a heavily forested mountain. “He’s up there someplace, ma’am.”

  “Fine. You can all leave. I’ll go on by myself.”

  The men all looked at each other, and their leader pushed back his hat. “Ma’am, I know Dan Monroe told us to leave you be if that’s what you asked. But Swift Arrow has been living alone for a lot of years. Some say he’s a crazy man. At the least, he’s an unsociable hermit, and it’s not likely he’s seen a woman in a long time. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Abbie smiled and looked at him. “I’ve known him for a long time, Captain Eggers. I assure you I’ll be all right. And after I have talked to him, he’ll bring me down himself and stay with me until we’re in sight of
the fort. Swift Arrow would never harm me, nor would he allow anything to happen to me. Your only orders were to get me this far. You have no responsibility beyond that. Dan and I both assured you that anything after that was our own responsibility and you would not be blamed. Now please leave with your men. I’ll be fine.”

  The man sighed deeply, resetting his hat. “If you say so, Mrs. Monroe.” He turned his horse, waving for his men to follow him, and they headed back to the fort reluctantly. Abbie watched them until they were out of sight, then headed her mount into the trees to begin an ascent up the gradual rise of the mountain. It was so thickly wooded that if a tipi were someplace nearby one would never see it. She could do nothing but keep going, beginning to call Swift Arrow’s name.

  She had worn her best riding habit, a deep red velvet split skirt and matching short jacket, a velvet hat and high boots. A rifle rested in its boot on the saddle, and she knew how to use it in case she ran into an unsociable animal. But then perhaps the unsociable animal would be Swift Arrow himself. She didn’t fear for her person at all, but she hoped he would not be angry that she had come here unannounced.

  For over an hour she wound her way through the trees, always climbing, calling out his name every few minutes until she began to feel hoarse. She came to a beautiful waterfall and dismounted, letting her horse drink. The place reminded her a little of the lovely cove where Zeke’s body rested. The trees were so thick she did not even realize that overhead an eagle circled. She knelt down beside the rushing white water at the base of the fall, wondering if she had been foolish to come here. She leaned over and took a drink herself, and when she raised up again, an Indian man was standing directly across from her, watching her silently.

  “Swift Arrow,” she said softly. He looked wonderful, wearing beaded buckskins, his hair braided to one side. At his waist he wore a wide leather belt that held a handgun and a knife. In one hand he held a rifle.

  She stood up, and Swift Arrow leaped across the stream in one step, then turned and set his rifle aside, turning back to look her over with an appreciative glance. “Why have you come here?” he asked.

  She swallowed. “I … I’m not sure myself. There was something I wanted to tell you, only now I’m not so certain … you would care.” She began to redden, wondering herself what had made her think she had to talk to him before deciding about Dan.

  He took the reins of her horse and walked the animal to a tree, where he tied it. He removed a blanket from her saddle, coming over to the stream and spreading it out. He sat down on it and motioned for her to do the same. She hesitated.

  “Maybe I … I shouldn’t have come,” she told him. “I have no right intruding on your privacy. I have angered you.”

  He grinned. “You have not angered me. You could never anger me.”

  Her eyebrows arched. “Not even if I looked upon the Sacred Arrows again?”

  He frowned. “Do not remind me of that time I was cruel to you. It was a long time ago. I was a hot-blooded warrior, and you were a stupid young white girl that I did not like so much. We both learned many lessons that year I watched over you while Zeke was away. Now sit. You have come this far, so you might as well tell me whatever it is you wish me to know.”

  She walked over and sat down on the blanket, facing him. She studied the dark eyes. So much of Zeke shone through. “I guess I … I wanted to tell you first how sorry I am … about what has happened to the People. I know how it saddens your heart and hurts your pride.”

  His eyes turned angry, and he looked away, picking up a small rock and tossing it into the water. “It is over now. Sometimes I can hardly bear the pain of it. So much is over.”

  “But there is much yet to be done, Swift Arrow. Your staying alone up here isn’t helping the People. And they need help now more than ever. If we are to save the customs and language and culture, we need to record the stories and language of warriors like yourself, who remember all the old ways—remember what it was like when all the land belonged to the Indian. The little ones need to hear your stories. They need men like you to make it all come alive for them again. I want you to come down to the reservation, Swift Arrow, and help me. I teach little ones reading and writing, but I can’t teach them the kind of things you can. I want you to come back with me—help me instill in the young ones the language and the old ways. It’s our only hope of preserving their heritage, their identity. The missionaries want to make them like white people, want to destroy all that is Indian in them. I won’t let that happen. And there is a beautiful spirit inside of them that fights to stay Indian. They need help, Swift Arrow, help from the older ones like yourself who remember. Someday there will be none left who remember, and it will be too late.”

  He turned to face her, his eyes shining with love again. “There are not many who would try so hard as you. You have always understood, Abigail. I will consider it, if there is a promise I can leave again if I choose, and if I will not be imprisoned.”

  “You won’t be. And you can come back anytime you wish. Oh, please do come, Swift Arrow! Wolf’s Blood would be so happy to see you again. With Zeke gone, having you around would be such a blessing to him. He misses his father so, even after all these years. And you were like a second father to him. Surely you long to see Wolf’s Blood again, don’t you? And his children?”

  He sighed. “This is true.” He studied her intently. How he wanted her! How he still loved her! He looked away again. “I make no promises.” How could he tell her part of the reason he would not come down was because she was there? “You should go now. I will think about all of this,” he told her.

  The water splashed over shining rocks, and Abbie leaned over and picked at a wild flower. “There is another reason I came up here,” she told him quietly, her face reddening.

  He looked at her curiously. “And what is that?”

  She swallowed, twirling the flower in her fingers. “Dan … has asked me to marry him.”

  He felt a stabbing pain at his heart, and an irritating possessiveness swept through him. “So?” he replied, trying to sound uncaring. “Marry him.”

  She met his eyes. “I just thought … perhaps you should know … you being Zeke’s brother and all. I have never really gotten over Zeke, and I’m sure I never will. It makes me feel like I’m being untrue to him.” She looked away again. “I really wouldn’t be, for no man can ever be to me what Zeke was. I have little to give to any other man but friendship and loyalty. I can’t think of Dan as anything but a good friend, but I would like someone strong beside me again, someone to lean on, a companion as I grow old. I … I think Zeke would understand that. As far as true … passion, mine was spent on Zeke. I have little of that left.”

  She waited. He said nothing at first, and when she met his eyes he only watched her lovingly. “Do you?” he asked.

  She reddened again. “I … don’t know what you mean.”

  “I think you know exactly what I mean. You are telling me it will be difficult to marry a man for whom you have no passion. Even in your older years, this is important to you, as it should be. And since you are here, I might as well use this last chance I will have to tell you … finally … that I love you, Abigail … probably as much as my brother loved you … and with all the passion you could want.”

  She looked at him in surprise, then put cool fingers to her crimson face and looked away again. “We’re … brother and sister—”

  “I have only said I look at you as a sister. In my heart you were my woman. But I was a Cheyenne Dog Soldier, and you were in love with my honored brother—a faithful woman, with eyes for no one but Zeke Monroe. Why else do you think I came to the North and never returned? Why else do you think I stayed away as I did, when all that I loved were in the South?”

  She put a shaking hand to her face again, somehow deep inside expecting the words, yet still truly shocked when he spoke them. She smiled nervously, watching the water. “But … older Indian men take young wives … women who can give them chil
dren … women who are pleasing to look at in private … pleasing to touch … young girls who give them pleasure in the night.”

  He moved closer, touching her cheek with the back of his hand. “And what is pleasure? What is joy and love? Are these things measured by the firmness of a breast or how slim is a woman’s waist?” She blushed more and turned her face from him. He moved behind her then, grasping her shoulders. “Can such things comfort a man in his sorrow? Can they relieve the pains of his wounds? Dry his tears?” He gently forced her to turn, and they sat side by side, facing one another. “It is only the beauty of a woman’s spirit that gives such comfort to a man. In this kind of beauty, none can match yours. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known. And I have loved you from a distance for all these many winters, aching with the want of you. Surely you realized why I never took a wife after Yellow Moon died. And even she was my wife only out of duty.”

  She met his eyes then, hers tearing. “I … never thought …”

  “Yes you did. You only pretended it was not so, because you loved my brother so that you would not allow yourself to acknowledge another man. I am not blind and foolish, Abigail. I know that if you were to lie with Swift Arrow, in your mind and heart you would be with Zeke.”

  She closed her eyes. “Please don’t say it!”

  “I must say it! After all these years of lonely suffering I must say it! For now you speak of marrying another, and I may never see or touch you again. I am asking you to be my woman, Abigail, even though you could never love me as you loved Zeke Monroe. My comfort would be simply to call you mine and to lie next to you in the night. In return you can have a little piece of Zeke—through me. The arms that hold you would be dark and strong. The lips that kiss you would be shaped as his. The eyes that behold you would be dark, and in the night it would be like again being with him. Let me do this for you, Abigail, and in return I would at last find happiness in my remaining years.”