“I wonder what will happen if Jeremy comes?” she said, raising her voice so that Joshua would hear her out in the hallway where he’d carried part of their luggage.
“Wolf’s Blood will probably beat him bloody,” Joshua answered jokingly, coming back into the bedroom.
LeeAnn turned to face him. “That isn’t funny, Josh. He just might really do it. Jeremy might not come just because he’s afraid of his brother. They were so different.”
Joshua sighed, coming over to put his hands on her shoulders. “What will be will be. They’re brothers, LeeAnn, and Abbie will be there. Wolf’s Blood wouldn’t do something to spoil this reunion for her. Anyway, you know your mother. She’d never allow it. She’d step in and throw a few punches herself if she had to.”
LeeAnn slid her arms about his waist. Joshua was a good man. He loved Matthew like his own, and through Joshua she had learned that lovemaking could be gentle and beautiful, not ugly and humiliating. Charles Garvey had brought her nothing but pain and terror.
“You’re probably right,” she said, resting her head against his chest. “My mother has a way of taking control. She could even control my father, most of the time, anyway. That was not an easy thing to do.”
“From what I remember about Zeke, I can understand that.” Joshua pulled away. “I have to get down to the newspaper office and get things in order. Cheyenne can’t go without a daily paper just because the man who owns it isn’t here.”
“Are you sure you can be away a month or more?”
“Thomas Handy has been my right-hand man for a year now. He can handle things while I’m gone. I have complete confidence in him. And I can keep in touch by wire from Pueblo.” He turned and picked up his hat. “It won’t be long before all cities out in this big country are connected by telephone, like Sheridan and Cheyenne are now. Can you imagine it? Being able to call all the way up here to Sheridan from Pueblo, Colorado? Maybe even from the ranch?”
LeeAnn felt a little pain at the memory of times when her father had had to leave home for weeks at a time, sometimes months, to help the Cheyenne or a family member … the time he’d had to come and rescue her after she’d been abducted by Comancheros. How he’d fought to save her! Could any man ever match her father’s courage and skill? How wonderful it would have been back then if he could have picked up a telephone and called home to let her mother know they were all right. All those times poor Abbie had had to wait and wonder and pray, not knowing if her husband or a family member was dead or alive.
“I can’t imagine there would be a phone line all the way out to the ranch,” she told Joshua. “What a wonderful thing that would have been for Mother.”
Joshua grinned. “It sure would have, for all of us. Dan and my mother could have called from Fort Laramie to see how Zeke and Abbie were doing, Jeremy could have called from Denver …” His smile faded. “If he would have.”
Little Abigail began to cry. “Time for another feeding,” LeeAnn said. “I’ll finish packing while you’re gone. Mother will be arriving within a couple of days from the reservation with Wolf’s Blood and Jennifer and the whole crew. I hope the reservation can get by without my brother Jason for a month or two.”
“Well, the last letter from your mother said another doctor had come to work there, so there shouldn’t be any problem with Jason having to leave for a while.”
LeeAnn went into an adjoining bedroom, where she picked up little one-year-old Abigail and held her in her arms to stop the child’s crying. “I wish Father could see how all the children turned out … Wolf’s Blood having his own ranch on the reservation, Margaret and her husband running the old ranch down in Colorado, Ellen and her family also ranching near the old place.” She met her husband’s soft brown eyes. “And you, Joshua, the little half-breed boy Zeke and Abbie both risked their lives to protect. Now you’re the owner of a daily newspaper in one of the biggest towns in Wyoming. Jason is a doctor on a Cheyenne Indian reservation. Father would be so proud of that, proud of Mother’s living up there, teaching the Indian children. Now all we need to make it all complete is to see Jeremy again.”
Joshua walked over and kissed little Abigail’s cheek. “He’ll be there.” He gave her a wink and walked out, met at the doorway by Lonnie. He picked up the sleepy boy and gave him a quick hug and kiss.
“Come on, Pa!” Matthew called from the downstairs entrance to their two-story, frame home. “You said I could help at the newspaper office today.”
“Coming!” Joshua called to him. He put Lonnie down and headed down the stairs. Lonnie rubbed his eyes and walked over to his mother, who stood at a front window to watch Matthew and Joshua walk out and across their tidy, green front lawn, on through the gate of the picket fence that surrounded that yard.
She thought about Margaret. It would be so nice to see her older sister. Margaret was a true Monroe, tough, a fighter. She’d married Morgan Brown, a big, strong mulatto man who had brought love and peace to her during a time when she was lost and confused because she looked so Indian and had been terribly hurt by a white man she’d thought loved her. Yes, Margaret also had strayed for a while, hating her Indian blood. She had turned to prostitution, but inside she was a good and loving woman. What child raised by Abbie Monroe would not be good and loving? It was just that they had all grown up during a period when most whites hated Indians … many still did. That hatred had deeply affected some of the Monroe children, those like Margaret and Wolf’s Blood, who looked very Indian, as well as those who showed no sign of their Indian blood … like herself … and Jeremy.
They had all learned to adjust and accept who they were, to be proud of that side of themselves, because their father had been proud and because their mother was proudest of all. “Please make Jeremy come to the reunion,” she quietly prayed.
* * *
“I hate getting on this thing,” Wolf’s Blood grumbled. He watched his mother and Swift Arrow prepare to board the train. “I know that my uncle also hates the trains. They are just another sign of how the white man has destroyed the old ways.”
Jennifer placed a hand on her husband’s arm. She had adored Wolf’s Blood since she’d first met him as a child. She smiled at the thought of what a grand mixture the Monroe family was, how “Indian” some of them could be, like Wolf’s Blood and Swift Arrow, how “white” others were, like LeeAnn. “You grumble too much, dear husband. Life goes on, and the world is constantly changing. Sometimes the changes hurt, but they can’t be stopped, as you well know.”
He sighed, waited, watching each family member board. They had come south with one covered wagon for all the luggage, most of them riding horseback while the children rode in the wagon. Abbie herself had driven the team of horses that pulled it. They had met LeeAnn and Joshua here in Cheyenne, now a thriving city, another sign of white progress. Wolf’s Blood hated cities, hated crowds, hated the idea of riding this train all the way down to Pueblo, where his brother-in-law, Morgan, would meet them with another wagon. Their own wagon and horses would be boarded here in Cheyenne until they returned.
Abbie and Swift Arrow climbed onto the train’s platform, followed by LeeAnn, Joshua and their three children; then Jason, his youngest brother, of whom he was very proud. Jason didn’t look Indian, but he was a handsome young man at twenty-eight, with an Indian’s heart and spirit, a caring man who worked as a doctor on the Cheyenne reservation. He herded his own onto the train then: his seven-year-old stepdaughter, Emily; his fourteen-year-old son, Hawk; his thirteen-year-old daughter, Iris; his beautiful wife, Jennifer, who pleased him greatly.
Dan and his wife, Rebecca, boarded behind him, and Wolf’s Blood took a seat beside Jennifer, thinking how Zeke would love to see the family together like this. Wolf’s Blood felt his father’s presence almost constantly, and the picture of the burial platform high in the Rockies, where he’d placed his father’s body, was still as vivid in his mind as on the day he’d taken the man there eight years ago. The pain of the loss was sometimes as
intense now as it was then.
He glanced at some of the other passengers, well aware that many were staring at the “Indians” who had dared to take seats. Let them stare, he thought. Maybe they would begin to understand what they had done to the Cheyenne, the Sioux, the Comanche, the Apache, the Arapaho, the Navajo, the Nez Perce—all of them. Even the old enemies of the Cheyenne, the Crow and Pawnee, were on reservations. It was too bad that old hatreds had kept the various tribes separated during a time when uniting might have helped their cause. He often wondered how it might have been if all Indians had come together in one mighty force against white encroachment. Man for man, any Indian warrior far outmatched almost any white soldier. It had taken thousands of soldiers to round up a mere thirty-five Apache under Geronimo; and again, thousands of soldiers to catch up with and capture a couple of hundred Nez Perce trying to flee to Canada. If all Indians had fought as a force, this land would still belong to them.
He looked out the window as several long screams burst from the engine’s steam whistle and the locomotive began chugging away from the station … toward home … toward Colorado … the old ranch. Again thoughts of his father returned … how he’d died like a warrior, how he’d fought his crippling arthritis and refused to die in bed. He flexed his own hands. Yes, much as he’d tried to ignore it, he knew without seeing Jason or any other doctor that he was going to gradually develop the same disease, and like his father, he was, by God, not going to die a crippled old man. He’d lived the warrior’s life for many years, and he’d die that way.
He glanced at his mother, caught her watching him. Damn. There was not a more discerning woman on the face of the earth than Abigail Monroe. He’d wanted to keep this from her, just like his father had tried to do. He especially wanted to keep it from Jennifer. He watched his mother’s all-knowing eyes, tried to tell her silently not to say anything. He saw the pain there. No one would better understand what was going through his mind than Abbie. Wolf’s Blood was so like his father. He looked exactly like Zeke, and it seemed the man’s very spirit dwelled in his own soul.
He turned to look back out the window, unable to bear the pain in his mother’s eyes. It was nothing to worry about now. After all, it was just a minor ailment for the present. His father had carried the disease for years before it began to truly cripple him. Wolf’s Blood knew he had a lot of good years left. He had a ranch of his own, where he bred beautiful horses, just as his father had done. He had a beautiful, loving wife, three beautiful children, a son as proud of his Indian blood as he was and his father had been. Hawk was a good boy, smart, handsome; a young man who would learn to live in the white man’s world without losing his identity. He just hoped the boy would be careful about being seen with that agent’s sister. It was a good thing they would be apart for a while. Maybe Arianne Wilder would be gone by the time they got back. It would be best for Hawk if she was.
The train rumbled south. It would go right through Denver. Denver! How he hated that city, where he’d gotten into trouble more than once, where he’d gotten into his first fight with a young Charles Garvey, the Indian hater his sister had ended up marrying.
Denver … where his sister Margaret had gone and got mixed up in prostitution, after she had been so hurt by a white man that she felt worthless. There she had met and married Morgan Brown, a mulatto who had taught her about love.
Denver … where Jeremy lived now … the one family member no one had seen since he first left the ranch seventeen years ago … no one but himself and Zeke … once … in Kansas. Jeremy had hurt his father so badly that night, still denying his Indian blood, ashamed to admit in public that Zeke and Wolf’s Blood were his father and brother. Would he come to the reunion? Had his mother’s letter to the Union Pacific offices in Denver even reached Jeremy?
Wolf’s Blood’s hands curled into fists at the thought of his brother’s desertion. If Jeremy came, it would be difficult not to light into him and give him what he deserved. Still he knew what joy it would bring to his mother if Jeremy showed up.
The family would be complete then. At the ranch they would meet up with his sister Margaret and her husband Morgan and their children: Zeke, eighteen, named after his grandfather; Nathan, sixteen, and Lance, five. His sister Ellen lived not far away with her husband, Hal, and their children, eight-year-old Lillian and four-year-old Daniel.
So many brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews. Young Zeke and his own son Hawk would have much to talk about, since they were nearly the same age. Yes, it would be a happy time for all of them, and one thing he knew for certain … someone else would be there. They wouldn’t see him, but he’d, by God, be there in spirit, laughing with them, crying with them, holding them, silently guiding and protecting them. Lone Eagle would be with them.
He glanced at his mother again, smiled for her. He had a feeling she knew what he was thinking. She smiled in return, but there were tears in her eyes. There would always be tears in her eyes for her Zeke, until the day came when she could walk Ekutsihimmiyo, the golden road that led to the place of beauty where all go in death, where there are no trains, no dirty, noisy cities, no soldiers or settlers … where the grass is green and the prairies are alive with buffalo … where a man can be as free as the wind …
Three
Mary walked into her husband’s study, a large room that smelled of pipe smoke, its walls lined with books. Jeremy Monroe had built a good deal of wealth through his work with the railroad, and Mary was proud of him, proud of the beautiful brick mansion in which they lived in the wealthiest section of Denver. Jeremy was on the board of both the Kansas-Pacific and the Denver & Rio Grande, had started with the railroad as a baggage boy and moved up at an amazing pace because of his intelligence and loyalty, and because of innovative ideas he’d presented to make rail travel more attractive and lucrative, like suggesting better eating establishments at rail stops.
They had been happy, in spite of the hurt she carried because she could not have children. She had thought that was the only pain they would ever have to bear, one they had learned to live with; but eight years ago, when Jeremy had received the letter from his mother telling him his father had died … Never had she seen such alarming depression in her husband. For weeks she had hardly let him out of her sight, terrified he might commit suicide. He still suffered from the fact that his father had died without his ever having gone back home, died thinking his son was ashamed to call him father, ashamed of his Indian blood.
Only when Jeremy had received that letter had Mary learned the truth about her husband. He’d been afraid to tell her, afraid she wouldn’t love him if she knew he was part Indian. How ridiculous! She loved Jeremy for himself, the good man, loving husband, wonderful provider he was. Mary had urged him ever since to go back home, see his mother. What if she, too, died without his seeing her again?
Now she had caught him staring again at this latest letter from his mother. He’d been invited to go back to the ranch this summer for a family reunion. If ever there was a perfect time to be with his family again, this was it. The letter was an open invitation, love and forgiveness evident between the lines.
“Have you decided yet?”
Jeremy raised his eyes to look at her, unable to hide the fact that he’d been crying. He took a deep breath. “I have to. It would kill my mother if I didn’t show up. God knows I’ve done enough to hurt her.”
Mary felt a lump forming in her own throat. “We had better start packing, then. We can take the train to Pueblo. I suppose we’ll have to hire someone to drive us from there to the ranch. You do remember how to get there, don’t you?”
Jeremy smiled sadly. “I remember.” He thought of how he should go riding in on a horse, but then, there was no father to prove anything to anymore. He had never cared about horses and riding the way Zeke and Wolf’s Blood had, and he remembered his father being upset with him once or twice for being afraid of horses when he was little. By the time he was six or seven, Wolf’s Blood was riding as thou
gh he was a part of the horse, and riding bareback to boot.
Jeremy knew damn well Zeke Monroe loved him just as much as any of his children, but there had always been a wall between them, and he’d never been able to get close to the man like Wolf’s Blood had. At thirty-four years of age it seemed silly to care anymore about Wolf’s Blood being the “favorite son,” but he couldn’t help it, even though Zeke would never have wanted any of the children to feel that way.
“It will take us four or five days to get there. The rest of them have probably already left.” He sighed, tossing his mother’s letter onto the desk. “I’ll have to finish up some loose ends at the office.” He stood up and rubbed at his eyes.
“I know this will be hard for you, Jeremy,” Mary told him, walking closer. She wished she could have known Zeke Monroe, imagined what a contrast he must have been to this son. The way Jeremy described his father, he could look as wild and mean as any painted warrior. To look at Jeremy, it was difficult to believe such a man could have been his father. Her husband was handsome, but in a gentler way, his eyes a soft blue, his hair medium brown, still thick and wavy. He was not “big and tall” in the way he’d described his father and his oldest brother, but he was a well-built man, just the right height as far as she was concerned, and the arms that held her in the night were strong. “You’ll be glad you did this,” she finished, placing her arms around his waist. Her heart ached at the lingering trace of tears in his eyes.
“You think so, do you?” Again came a rather bitter smile. “When you see Wolf’s Blood you’ll know what my father looked like. God only knows what he’ll do or say, what any of them will do or say.”
“They’re family, Jeremy. They won’t beat you and they won’t turn you away, and I highly doubt any of them truly hates you, not even Wolf’s Blood. If he was as close to your father as you say, then he’ll do what he knows his father would want done and will welcome you with open arms.”
Eagle’s Song Page 3
