Meet the New Dawn (29 page)

His Appaloosa came galloping toward her, and he called out in Cheyenne for his “white woman.” She laughed and reached up, and he grabbed her, slowing his mount but not stopping. She gave a little scream as he turned the horse, hoisting her up in front of him and heading for their secret place at the stream.

“Zeke, I’m a mess!” she objected. “I’ve been digging carrots.”

“You look beautiful,” he told her, heading toward the place where the grass was thick and soft, and the irises bloomed.

Chapter Seventeen

Abbie brushed out her husband’s hair, something she always loved to do. A blanket was wrapped around her naked body, and Zeke sat on the soft grass wearing nothing. No one would bother them here. They all knew better. This was their parents’ special place, and having all his gear already on his horse when he returned, Zeke had simply taken his woman to their place by the stream as soon as he returned. They had everything they needed to spend the day there, and they had been apart too long.

Abbie’s superficial objections did not last long, for when Zeke Monroe wanted his woman, there was seldom any arguing. It was not long before it didn’t seem to matter that she had just been digging carrots. He was back! Zeke was back and she was lying beneath him. The best part was that he seemed so very strong and well. How she prayed he could stay that way!

He had taken her quickly and with great passion. She knew that it would not be enough for him, nor was it for her. They would talk, but they would make love again before he took her back. Now he smoked quietly as she brushed his hair. How she had missed doing this when he was gone. It was something Indian women liked to do for their husbands and so did Abbie. Then she began rebraiding one tiny section at the side, weaving a beaded rawhide strip into the braid.

“In Pueblo all I heard was talk about gold in the Black Hills,” she told him as she worked.

He watched the rippling waters of the nearby stream. “It’s
there all right. You know what that means?”

“White men in Indian Territory.”

“Plenty of them. Too many for poor Dan to keep up with. His job is to kick them back out, but it’s an impossible task, Abbie, and I think the government is going to make its own rules and say to hell with the treaty. That’s not only illegal, but the Sioux and Northern Cheyenne won’t stand for it. It’s a real powder keg. I’d like to get my hands on General Custer. He started the whole thing.”

She sighed deeply. “If not Custer, it would have been someone else. Did you see Swift Arrow? Is he all right?”

He nodded, taking another drag on his cigarette. He knew she sensed that his brother loved her, but she never spoke of it. “He’s as mean and ornery as ever, if that’s what you mean. And if there’s trouble, he’ll be in the thick of it.” He threw down his cigarette. “It’s such an impossible mess, Abbie. I can see both sides and I don’t see an answer. The white man’s desire for gold is incredible. Most of the men going there, risking their lives and stirring up trouble, will never find enough gold to make it worth it. Only a few will find the right places. But they all dream of being one of the few, my darling. It happened in California, and then here in Colorado. Now it’s happening in the Black Hills. Once there was nothing in Denver. Then someone found gold, and now look.

“Whites everywhere—and nearly all Indians run out of the territory. It has to end someplace, but I don’t see where it will. The worst part is they’re spreading the rumor that there could be more gold in the Black Hills than any of the other strikes. So the surge will be even worse. It’s going to be bad for them, Abbie. The Sioux, Swift Arrow, and the others—they’ll never win this one. The gold-hungry miners and the government behind them will sweep through there and that will be the end of it. I see the entire Indian nation in this country slowly crumbling by the wayside, and sometimes I wonder if there will be any left some day—like the buffalo.”

She leaned down and kissed his shoulder. “Let’s not think about it for today. I’m so glad to have you back, and feeling so well besides.”

He put out his cigarette, turning and grabbing her around
the neck, pulling her around in front of him. He bent his legs and she rested her head against his knees, facing him as he traced his fingers over the silky skin of her shoulders and studied her dark eyes.

“You’re wanting to tell me something else, Abbie-girl. I can see it in those eyes. Did something happen I should know about?”

She frowned. “Sort of.”

He twisted a piece of her hair in his fingers. “And what is that supposed to mean? It isn’t Ellen, is it? Is she all right? How did the wedding go? Is she happy? If Hal Daniels harmed her, I’ll—”

“Ellen is fine,” she told him quickly. “In fact, she wears a happy glow she never had before, and it was on her face the first time I saw her after their wedding night. I’m sure she’s very happy, and Hal is good to her, Zeke. He’s off to active duty again, but he’ll be back in the spring. This will be a long winter for poor Ellen.”

He toyed with the piece of twisted hair. “Well, I’ll have my own talk with her when we go back. But I’m glad she seems happy, and glad they’ll be settling nearby. Hal must have been sent on down to Camp Supply. I didn’t see him at Fort Lyon. By the way, I didn’t tell you about the odd thing that happened at Fort Lyon, did I?”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“That Lieutenant Henely was there—the man who attacked the Cheyenne at Sappa Creek. He was showing off a war bonnet tipped with buffalo horns that had belonged to White Bear. He also had a silver belt he’d taken from a young woman after she’d been killed. There was a Cheyenne woman there watching him show off the articles, bragging about the battle. She recognized the articles, even named the woman from whom the belt had been taken. She looked straight at Henely and predicted the man would come to a violent death for what he’d done.” He studied the reddish tint to her lustrous hair. “It was a chilling moment. She seemed so sure.”

She ran her hand along his powerful forearm. “Well, you certainly know how the Indians are about those things. You made a prediction once that one day I would stand beside you,
although at that time you wouldn’t tell me because you were so afraid harm would come to me if you made me your woman.”

Their eyes held. “It wasn’t Ellen who was on your mind, was it?” he asked.

She swallowed. “No. We … received a letter … from England.”

He studied her eyes, the old jealousy rising, even though he knew it was unnecessary. “Edwin Tynes?”

“Yes.”

He let go her the piece of hair and began straightening it by pushing bis fingers through it. “He’s been gone a good ten years. I didn’t figure we’d ever hear from him again.”

“He just wanted to write once, to inquire if things were still all right here, and to let us know he’s fine, living in his mansion in England. He finally married again. I think he knew we would like to know that. And he sent a copy of an English newspaper, showing one of the many articles he’s been writing about the American West, and the strength of its … pioneer women.”

She saw the mixture of jealousy and sadness in his eyes. Sir Edwin Tynes owned a massive estate next to their land, and the widowed Englishman had watched after Abbie and the children while Zeke had ridden south to search for LeeAnn after the Comanches stole her away. Tynes had fallen deeply in love with Abigail Monroe. He admired her strength and courage, and was fascinated by her beauty in spite of the hardships, her willingness to come to a lawless land with a half-breed husband and put up with all the difficulties that combination can bring to a woman. Tynes had made no effort to hide his love, and had offered Abigail the world on a silver platter, for he was a wealthy, educated, worldly man. Zeke knew the man loved Abbie, and for a while he made life very difficult for his wife, thinking perhaps she would be better off with someone like Tynes after all. Zeke’s love for her was so great that he considered bearing the sorrow of letting her go, so that she could live out the rest of her life in luxury and wealth and comfort. For deep inside the brave man lay a little boy who had always felt guilty that he had brought his Abbie to this land and that she had suffered so much for staying with him. He almost rode north after finding LeeAnn and bringing her home,
planning to join the Sioux and Red Cloud and let himself be killed. That would free his Abbie to live the life she deserved to have.

But Abbie would have none of it. She had turned down a chance at something most women prayed for. But Abbie didn’t want Sir Edwin Tynes’s luxuries and comforts. She wanted only her Zeke, accepting whatever hardships might come with that. For what good was a fancy bed and beautiful clothes, a mansion and servants, if she could not have her Zeke? Edwin Tynes could have given her everything, and she turned it down; and though Zeke was tempted to just leave her, for her own good, he also could not go. Though he knew she’d have been better off, he could not bear the thought of another man touching his Abbie.

He smoothed back her hair. “It’s pioneer women, hmmm?”

“Yes. It’s a beautiful article, Zeke. Very well written.”

“That’s because he was thinking of you when he wrote it; and all that love he had for you came right through, I’m sure.”

“I … I thought you’d like to read the letter … see the article. But I wasn’t quite sure how to tell you. I hope it doesn’t upset you. Edwin was very good to us, and it’s been ten years since we heard from him after he left. I think he deliberately kept silent, knowing that was best. And now he’s married again. I’m glad for him.”

Zeke stared in the direction of the Tynes land. Somewhere out there the great stone mansion still sat. Tynes had built it to remind him of England, and Zeke supposed the man had hoped to live in it with Abbie. But that could not be, and Tynes had left, turning the ranch over to a brother and an uncle, who ran it for three years, then sold it to an American rancher from Nebraska. The American preferred a simple log house to the mansion, and now the great castle Edwin Tynes had built sat empty, most of its contents and expensive furnishings and accessories sold off or shipped back to England. It seemed almost haunted—haunted by memories; haunted by things that could have been but never were. That had been a hard time for Zeke and Abbie, the closest they had ever come to parting. But real love bears all things and cannot be denied. Zeke had seen the mansion a time or two in his travels, and it gave him
chills. What had ever made him think he could live without his Abbie? Abbie refused to go and see it at all. She did not want to be reminded of those sad times, for in the midst of their troubles, her little Lillian had died and still lay buried on a little knoll on the Tynes property.

He met Abbie’s eyes again, then her lips, pulling the blanket from her naked body and laying her back on it. There was nothing to say. The thought of those years brought out a need to make love again, to remind one another who they belonged to, who they loved and could not be without. She broke into tears, remembering how determined he’d been to leave her for her own good, remembering that he had even gone to the harlot Anna Gale in Denver to vent his needs and try to prove to himself he didn’t need his Abbie. But it hadn’t worked. Some things could not be denied, and this was one of them.

She whispered his name as he moved between her slender thighs, pushing himself inside of her again. There were so many reasons they must do this often, and for a moment the memory of Swift Arrow smearing blood on his cheeks in sorrow flashed into Zeke’s mind. He thrust himself hard then and she cried out with the force of it, arching up to him in return. Edwin Tynes had been a handsome, dashing, worldly man that most women would pray to find. But how could he compare to this man who hovered over her now? How could he compare to Zeke Monroe’s dark handsomeness; to Zeke Monroe’s magnificent build; to this man who had many times risked his life for her, who had protected and defended her, and who loved her beyond all common forces? Could it really be true they had been together thirty years now? Or was it only thirty days? No length of time was long enough, and if she could live to three hundred she would want to stay with this man. Her love, her life! But what if she had only a year left with him, or perhaps two? What would she do? There was no Abigail Monroe. There was only Zeke Monroe’s woman, and the thought of being alone brought terror to her heart. No! He must never leave her. Never!

She cried out his name again, pushing, giving, and also taking. Time was growing short. She felt it in her bones. She would take advantage of every moment—every sweet moment—and
let her passions flow like the rippling waters of the nearby stream.

While gathering supplies at Fort Lyon in April of 1876, they heard the news. The first spoken words had been heard through a contraption called a telephone, in March of that year. The Indians had thought the talking wires of the telegraph had been magic enough. But a device that could transmit actual voices? All the way home Zeke and Abbie and Ellen talked about it, joking at how handy the telephone would have been during all the times Zeke had had to be away from home.

“Just think of the worry it could have saved me!” Abbie teased.

“Well, maybe they can throw a voice from one room to another, maybe even across the street,” Zeke replied. “But they’ll never create something that can carry voices over the miles.”

They rode on silently for a while, both staring ahead then looking at each other. “Never underestimate the white man’s hunger for progress,” she told him.

He nodded, frowning. “I was thinking the same thing.” He looked back over the horizon again. “It’s all changing, isn’t it, Abbie? I see all the old ways vanishing. Remember how empty this land was when you and I settled along the river? All we had was a tipi, and there wasn’t a soul around but a few trappers at Old Bent’s Fort.”

“And the Indians,” she added.

The wagon clattered on toward home. He nodded. “And the Indians.”

In May of that year Hal Daniels came home to stay, much to the great joy of Ellen, and Zeke was kept busy making trips to his son-in-law’s property to help finish their cabin. In early July of that same year, Zeke Monroe came home with a face almost gray with dread. He sank into a kitchen chair, ordering an alarmed Abbie to go and get Wolf’s Blood.

“Zeke, what is it?” she asked. “Has something happened to Ellen?”

He closed his eyes, putting his head in his hands. “No,” he answered quietly, resting his elbows on the table. He rubbed at his eyes for a moment, then faced her again, his eyes red. “About five thousand Sioux and Northern Cheyenne wiped out General Custer and roughly two hundred and twenty-five soldiers under Custer’s command a couple of weeks ago. At least those are the figures for now. There might have been even more warriors than that.”