Climb the Highest Mountain (22 page)

On her part, Margaret was caught between her conscience and pleasing Sam Temple, who had become more demanding. She feared that if she didn’t continue coming to his bed, he would be disappointed in her and think she wouldn’t make a good wife. And she did love him so!

She knocked on the door and he opened it, his jacket and hat on. He looked surprised. “I thought you weren’t coming until tonight,” he told her.

“I wanted to surprise you,” she answered, pushing past him and going inside. “Aren’t you glad to see—” She stopped short. The mattress of the small bed was bare, and saddlebags and a bedroll lay on it. She frowned and looked around the room. His small personal things were gone. She met his eyes, her heart pounding with dread. He sighed and walked to the bed to pick up his things. “I’m going to Denver,” he told her.

She swallowed. “To get a preacher?”

He looked her over. “No,” he said quietly. “I’m just… going.”

She clung tightly to the basket of biscuits. “I… don’t understand.”

“I think you do. We’ve had our fun, Margaret. I’m not the settling type. It’s time for me to move on.”

She shook her head, her eyes widening as they held
his blue ones. “You can’t go! We’re supposed to be married!” she told him in a shaking voice.

He laughed lightly and shook his head. “Margaret, grow up. You’ve been around Indians and whites a long time. You know that most white men will sleep with Indian girls, but they don’t marry them, Margaret.”

Her chest hurt so badly she felt as though a knife had been pushed into it. She wondered if she was having a nightmare. Surely that was it! She would wake up soon!

“How can you … say that?” she squeaked. “I didn’t sleep with you for the fun of it. I made love with you because I loved you, and I thought you loved me.”

He stepped closer. “Did I ever say I loved you, Margaret?”

“You said you’d marry me!”

“That isn’t what I asked you.”

Her whole body began to shake, and she looked him up and down as though she were seeing him for the first time. So, it was true. Because she appeared to be totally Indian, white men would only use her, never love her, yet she had no future with the Indians. Where did that leave her? She had given her virginity to this man, only to have it smeared in the mud. She had lost her purity and innocence and had been rudely awakened to real life. Her starry-eyed love for this man had been destroyed in one moment, along with her pride. She backed away, her eyes taking on the wildness that only an Indian’s could express. How she hated him! How she suddenly hated him!

“I should kill you!” she hissed.

He just grinned and shook his head. “Don’t take it so hard, Margaret. You have known a man. Someday you’ll make some Indian buck a fine wife, I expect. But
don’t bother with the white boys. Look at your own grandparents. Your father’s father was white, and he only lived with your father’s mother. He never married her. You told me so yourself. A white man has to be with his own kind. That’s why the man went back to Tennessee and married a white woman. And your Indian grandmother went to her own people and married an Indian man. That’s how it is, Margaret.”

“She was forced to be with my white grandfather! She never loved him as I loved you! She was sold to him! I gave myself to you willingly, because I loved you and because you promised to marry me! You won my friendship and trust first! You betrayed me! And if I get the chance I’ll kill you! Better than that, I’ll send my father after you!”

He felt a slight chill at these words. “Don’t be so dramatic. You’ll get over it in time.” He picked up the rest of his gear and started for the door.

“You’d better keep an eye out behind you, Sam Temple!” she hissed. “Zeke Monroe will be looking for you!”

He looked back at her for a moment, then turned and quickly left. She ran to the door and watched him mount, turn his horse, and ride out. Then she looked around the little cabin where she had known her first love, where she had lost her precious virginity. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. How could he have made her trust him so implicitly? She shuddered from the shock of it, then threw the biscuits on the floor and ran out. She couldn’t go to the house, not yet—not now. Great sobs of sorrow mixed with vengeful hatred engulfed her as she ran, yet she kept running until she could barely breathe. She finally stumbled and fell, and just lay there in the snow, crying. How she hated Sam Temple! How she hated the white world! And the worst part was she hated herself for her stupidity, and she
hated her dark skin for the first time. She stared down at the back of her hand, then scratched at it, wondering if somehow she could scratch the color off so it would be white. She tore at it until it bled; then she fell back into the snow and sobbed, deep wrenching sobs that made her stomach sore. She would never love again—not even herself.

Chapter Thirteen

Abbie knocked on the door to Margaret’s room. The girl had not been downstairs all day. She and Margaret had become close over the years, even closer since LeeAnn’s abduction. Margaret had always been the quiet one, the solid dependable one, more like a friend than a daughter.

“Go away!” The response was unexpected.

Abbie frowned and knocked again. “Margaret, it’s your mother.” She heard footsteps, and then the door was suddenly flung open. Abbie’s eyes widened at the look of the girl. Her hair was disheveled. Her eyes, red and swollen from crying, were mean and dark, almost like her father’s when he was out for vengeance. “Margaret? What is going on? Why haven’t you come downstairs today?”

“I was down—earlier!” the girl snapped, turning and walking back into the room. Abbie followed her inside.

“But I didn’t see you.”

“I used the back stairs and went to Sam’s cabin,” the girl interrupted.

Abbie studied the girl, her heart aching at the realization of what must have happened. “What is it, Margaret? Tell me what’s wrong. Did Sam try to make
love to you?”

The girl laughed lightly; then she whirled, her eyes fiery. “Make love to me?” She laughed again. “My God, Mother! He’s been making love to me for weeks!” Tears started to fall again. “I … loved him! We were supposed to be married!” She noticed the mixture of anger and disappointment in her mother’s eyes and choked back a sob. “I wanted … to tell you. But you had so much to think about already … I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

Abbie sighed and walked closer to the girl, reaching out and hugging her, but Margaret quickly pulled away. “I’m sorry, Margaret,” Abbie said quietly. “I appreciate your not wanting to bother me, but for something as important as giving yourself to a man—”

“Oh, mother, I think I’m going to be sick!” the girl wailed, sitting down on the bed. “I feel so ugly and … spoiled! It was so beautiful at first.” She sobbed so hard for a moment that she couldn’t talk; then she breathed deeply, fighting the tears, hating Sam all the more for making her cry over him. “I was … so happy with Sam. We were good friends. He didn’t … make any advance … right away. How can I… ever trust anyone … again?”

Abbie walked to the foot of the bed, wanting to cry for her daughter. “Where is Sam? I’d like to talk to him.”

“That’s just it. He’s gone! He’s gone to Denver! I went to see him … this morning … and he was packing and leaving. He was going to leave without even telling me, but I went over before he could get away!” She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “And he told me I was stupid to think … he’d really marry me. He said Indian girls were good for … sleeping with, but white men … never marry them! My God, Mother, what does that make me? And where do I turn? I’ve
never hated being Indian … until now!” She wept harder, putting her hands to her face and bending over. Abbie noticed the scratches on her hand. She walked over to kneel in front of the girl.

“What happened to your hand, Margaret?”

The girl took a deep breath and flung back her head. “I tried to scratch the color off!” She sneered.

There was something frighteningly ugly about her now, something changed. “Margaret, believe me, it will pass in time. Not all white men are like Sam, and a lot of Indian men are starting to settle like white people. You can marry an Indian man without living on a reservation.”

“Oh, Mother, stop it!” the girl growled, getting up and walking away from where Abbie knelt. “You know as well as I do there is no future for any Indian who tries to do anything but live on a reservation! And there is no future in that either, so we all might as well be dead!”

Abbie’s heart was pounding. She desperately needed to get through to her daughter. It was too frightening to think that she had lost her in one day. “Margaret, wait until your father gets back and talk to him. You’ve been close, and your father understands.”

“He’s a man! He doesn’t understand! It’s different for a woman. A man is strong. He can choose his own way!”

“That isn’t so. Are you forgetting what happened to him in Tennessee, what happened to his wife and son just because his wife was white and Zeke was Indian? Your father knows more about suffering because of his race than you’ll ever know!”

Margaret walked to a window. “Perhaps he does. But apparently my turn is coming.” She turned back and faced her mother. “You told me you were with my father before you married so don’t look at me as
though I’m bad.” The girl’s eyes were cold and accusing.

Abbie rose, anger rising in her heart. She struggled to stay in control. “I never said you were bad, Margaret. I never believed you capable of being bad. If you think I look at you that way, then it’s your own eyes you’re seeing looking back at you. You’re accusing yourself of being bad, not me. I fully understand why you did what you did. But I do not like the way you speak about me and your father! Yes, I gave myself to him. I was fifteen years old and had lost my whole family! We’d been on the trail for weeks and weeks and we already knew one another well. I knew what a lonely man he was, and I knew he loved me but wouldn’t touch me because he felt he had no right. I let him. I let him because I wanted him and I loved him. He had already proven his love for me when he did as I asked and killed my little brother out of mercy because the boy was dying of horrible wounds! He ended my brother’s life, at my request, even though it gave him nightmares for a long time after that! Our love had already been proven in many ways, Margaret Monroe! Even at that, I gave myself to your father fully knowing he didn’t feel he had any right to marry me, fully knowing he might go on to Oregon and leave the train and I’d never see him again! There were no promises of marriage. It was strictly an act of love that we both knew might have no future at all. Yes, I was with your father, if you want to put it that way. But he didn’t seduce me or force me or make any promises, and I never felt bad. Not once! Being with your father was the most beautiful experience I’ll ever know, and it is to this day!”

Abbie choked on the last words, the necessity of having to remember the past now, when she knew Zeke might not return, tortured her heart and mind. She
turned away. “How dare you speak of my love for your father as though it were something ugly and wrong! Zeke was my whole world! I had nothing—no one—and he saved my life, more than once. I didn’t have to wonder if he was sincere. I didn’t have to wonder if he loved me.” She sucked in her breath in an effort not to break down. How she needed him now, right now! He would know what to say to Margaret. They could talk to the girl together.

Margaret looked back out the window. “I’m sorry, Mother. I know it wasn’t like that for you, but it was for me.” Her voice was bitter. “And you are white, Mother. You had choices I will never have. That’s where we are different. That’s what you’ll never understand.”

Abbie wiped at her eyes and stepped closer. “Margaret, I lived among the Indians for years. How can you say I don’t understand your problem?”

“Back then it was Indians among Indians, and whites among whites. The Indian was free to live as he wished. It isn’t that way anymore, and the whites won’t let the Indians mix. They shove them onto reservations. People like me are caught between. Father is already grown and established and knows his way. But I am seventeen, and I already see that there is no future for me, whatever I choose. I have few options, Mother.”

Abbie frowned. “What do you mean by options?”

The girl gave her a sultry, mean look that reminded Abbie of another Indian woman she had known, the dark and jealous Dancing Moon, who had once tried to kill Abbie because of her desire for Zeke. Dancing Moon had been vicious and wild, and Margaret’s look frightened Abbie. The girl was changed. This was not her daughter.

“I am not sure myself what I mean, Mother,” she said coolly. “I only know that there are other things for girls like me besides getting married. There are other ways
of surviving.” She shrugged. “Perhaps if I went away, to a place where there were more people, perhaps I’d find the right man after all. Who knows? But it will be hard. I’m already spoiled, thanks to Sam Temple.”

“Margaret, you’re talking foolishly. Sam didn’t spoil you. You’re only spoiled if you allow yourself to look at it that way. You loved Sam. You gave yourself to him out of love, thinking that he was going to marry you. You did nothing bad, darling. You’re a beautiful, sensible girl, and you have us. You’re only seventeen, Margaret. It isn’t the end of the world.”

The girl folded her arms, her eyes hard. “Isn’t it? You don’t know how I felt, Mother. You don’t know how I felt when he said that to me and you never will.” She held out her scratched hand. “This gives you an idea, and I have my father to thank for that. He knew what it was like for him. He never should have had children!”

Abbie just stared at her for a moment; then she walked to the door. “I’ll not answer such a remark. You can live with it if you wish. Your father and I love you more than you will ever know, and you are an exceedingly beautiful girl. I’m sorry if I was too upset by LeeAnn’s abduction and Lillian’s death to see that there was something very wrong in your life. But a woman can only handle so much, Margaret. I can only say that I love you, and I will be here when you have gotten over your grief and are ready to talk.”

She left quietly, and Margaret immediately began to pack a carpetbag.

Abbie spent half the night in prayer, then fell into a deep sleep brought on by exhaustion. She had slept little during Lillian’s illness, even less since her death. Weariness was setting in, and each day it was more difficult to get up. She awoke late the next morning, and her first thought was of Margaret. She put on her robe and hurried to the girl’s room. When there was no
answer to her knock, she walked away. Thinking the girl was only exhausted after her bad experience, Abbie went back to her room to wash and dress, then down to the kitchen for coffee and biscuits. But there was a fear in her that she could not explain. She went back to Margaret’s room and knocked again. Still no answer. She quietly opened the door to look inside, then rushed in when she saw that the bed was made. She glanced around the room, noting the absence of Margaret’s few possessions. She ran to the dresser, pulling open empty drawers.

“Dear God!” she exclaimed. She ran out, hurrying down the stairs to the kitchen. “Where is Sir Tynes?” she asked the cook.

“Why, he’s gone to the stables, ma’am.”

Abbie dashed off before the woman was quite finished with the statement. She ran down the back steps and across the field to the stables, oblivious of the cold wind and darkening skies. She was screaming Edwin’s name, and he came out of the stables, hurrying to her. “She’s gone! Edwin, she’s gone! Someone must go after her!”

He grasped her arm. “What are you doing out here with no coat! You’ll be sick, Abigail!”

“She’s gone! Margaret’s gone! She’s run away, I know she has! That Sam Temple got her to his bed and then ran off on her, Edwin! She’s so hurt! She’s only seventeen, Edwin! Only seventeen! And she’s run away, I know it!”

“Calm down and get back to the house!” he ordered, taking an arm and hurrying her back.

“But she’s gone! My God, I’ve lost three daughters all of a sudden! Three daughters, and my son is in the north and might be dead! LeeAnn might be dead! Zeke might be—”

He jerked her around and shook her. “Stop this!” he
barked. “You are Abigail Monroe and you do not panic and go to pieces! You’re strong, Abigail, so just stop this! You know your husband will come back—with your daughter! And I shall find Margaret for you!”

She stared at him wide-eyed, and his heart ached for her. So much suffering, but he could not relieve it, only make life as easy for her as possible.

“Come back to the house, Abigail, and we’ll talk about it.”

She nodded, sniffing back tears. He took advantage of the moment and lightly kissed her forehead. “Sometimes I look at you and you seem only seventeen yourself,” he told her. He sighed deeply. “And I would give you the whole world if you would let me, but it wouldn’t mean a thing to you. You would never be happy, and that’s the hell of it.”

He began walking with her again, taking her back inside and forcing her to sit down while he ordered some tea. He sat down across from her. “Now, what is all this about Margaret?”

Abbie wiped at her eyes, suddenly conscious that she hadn’t combed her hair yet. “She’s been seeing that Sam Temple.”

“I know that. And you say Sam wooed her into his bed?”

She nodded and rubbed her forehead. “Oh, God, Edwin. Last night she was so distraught. Yesterday morning she went to see Sam and he was packing to leave. He wasn’t even going to tell her good-bye. And he told her that white men … white men sleep with Indian girls, but they don’t marry them. She was so devastated! So bitter! I’m afraid for her, Edwin! She’s run away!”

“Are you sure?”

“I should have known by the way she acted last
night, so bitter and hateful. She told me there were … other options for girls like her.” She put her face in her hands. “God only knows what she meant by that. I only know that when I went to her room this morning, her bed hadn’t been slept in and all her things were gone.”

The man sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I’ll have every building and room on the premises searched and all the men questioned. She would have needed a horse and some help to run away. Someone would have had to take her to Pueblo. And she would have needed money. Where would she have gotten money?”

Abbie looked at him as the cook set more tea in front of her. “I don’t know. I had some money in a drawer in my room, money Zeke gave me. We’d had it hidden in the cabin. She knew about it.”

“Then drink a little of that tea and we’ll go up and see if it’s there.”

She held his eyes. “Thank you, Edwin. You’re so understanding about all of this. We’ve been a great burden to you since we came here.”

He smiled sadly, wondering if she fully realized how much he loved her. Her whole being was wrapped up in Zeke and her children, so much so that for another man to tell her he loved her was almost totally useless. “You haven’t been a burden. I’ve enjoyed your being here immensely, and you know it.”