“She’s a good woman, strong and honest, like all the Monroes. My father saw that good in her, and he understood why she was leading that life, because he, too, was a man torn between two worlds, a man scorned and spit on just because he was half Negro. He could tell she did it to cover the hurt, to defy her Indian blood. It was his love that got her away from there and brought her back.”
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “It’s so sad what hurt can do to people, so sad that such very good people can be brought to ruin by others just because of their heritage.” She studied his muscular arms. Today he wore only denim pants and a vest, and the sight of his powerful chest and shoulders brought little surges of desire in her that told her there was a woman within, waiting to be awakened by the right man. She was convinced that right man was Zeke Brown. She’d been courted back East when she stayed there with her grandmother, but no young man had made her feel the way this one did.
“You’re sure my background doesn’t mean anything to you?” he asked her. “I mean, hell, Georgeanne, we’re falling in love. We both know it. And we know what that could mean for both of us, the suffering, the name-calling—”
“Zeke Brown, anyone who looks at you would not even know what kind of people you come from, but I’m not saying that’s why it doesn’t matter. I’m saying most people will just see you as the fine man that you are. I will admit I never dreamed this could happen to me, not because I am like my father, but because it’s just not accepted where I come from. It’s something that never entered my mind.”
He studied her blue eyes intently. “You sure you aren’t doing this as a kind of rebellion against your father? An act of defiance? Don’t use me that way, Georgeanne, even if it’s not intentional. Think hard about it and ask yourself if that’s what this is.”
“Zeke! Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “The way you talk about your father, I guess. You surely love him because he’s your father, but you don’t much like his views. You’re always kind of defiant when you talk about him. Maybe you’re just trying to prove something to him, that his hates can’t dictate whom you choose to love.”
She pouted, stretching out on her back. “I don’t use people that way, Zeke Brown. You make me want to cry by talking like that.”
He smiled, leaning over her, then moving on top of her, bracing himself with his elbows. “I wouldn’t want to make you cry.”
She studied him with misty eyes. “I love you, Zeke. You believe that, don’t you?”
He watched her quietly for several seconds. “Yeah. I believe it. And I love you.” He leaned closer and met her mouth in a sweet kiss that deepened into something more savage, as desire awakened in them both. They had never lain together this way, bodies pressing, each eager to see how it would feel to lie next to each other naked. He slipped his arms under her, lost in her, wanting to taste and see and touch much more. It felt good to press his hardness against her thigh, to rub against her everywhere. He longed to be inside her, wished they could be married right now. He pulled away for a moment, his eyes shining with desire. “I could never give you the kind of life you’re used to, Georgie.”
“We’d be all right. I don’t need those fancy things, and you’re a strong, smart man. I know you’d do fine at anything you try. Besides, I have an education. I could—”
Her words were cut off by the sound of a rifle being retracted. Another. Click. Another. “Get off my daughter, you stinking nigger!”
Both of them froze in place, Georgeanne’s eyes widening in horror. Zeke slowly rolled away from her, and they sat up to see six men approaching out of the trees, one of them Carson Temple. Rage and pride began to consume Zeke as he rose to face the man. Temple was big, with a brutal look in his pale blue eyes. His rifle was aimed directly at Zeke’s middle as he came closer, his whole body tense, his big belly protruding over the waist of his denim pants. Zeke stood six feet tall, but Temple matched him.
“Father, what are you doing here! How did you find us?”
The man’s hate-filled gaze moved to his daughter, and softened just a little. “One of the men saw you meet this sonofabitch here yesterday. We watched for you today, from just over the hill to the south. When I saw this bastard ride here to you again, we came in on foot.” He shook his head. “My God, Georgeanne, how could you shame me this way!” he roared in a deep voice. “You’re an educated girl who knows coloreds and Indians are worthless filth. You know how I feel about them! And that I’ve been trying to get the land from this boy’s folks! You’ve just given me good reason to kill the whole damn family and burn down every building on their ranch!”
“Don’t you touch one person in my family!” Zeke growled, his fists clenched.
Without warning, Temple swiftly slammed the butt of his rifle across the side of Zeke’s head, sending him sprawling. Georgeanne screamed and ran to Zeke, kneeling down beside him to see an ugly gash just above his temple.
“Dear God!” She looked up at her father. “How could you do this! I love him!”
The man leaned down and grabbed her arm, yanking her away from Zeke. “I don’t ever want to hear such a thing out of your mouth again! Do you know what men are going to call you now? Do you have any idea how you’ve embarrassed and disappointed me!”
“I don’t care!”
“He’s got colored and Indian blood!” Temple boomed.
“And he’s half white! More than half! You’d never know to look at him just what he is for sure! But I don’t even care! He’s a wonderful man, strong and smart and sensitive. Sensitive! You don’t know the meaning of the word, or even how to love someone!”
He squeezed her arm tighter. “I know I love my daughter, and I know what’s best for her! Someday, little girl, you’ll thank me for this. You’ll realize what a stupid thing you’ve done, and if we’re lucky, we can avoid any real damage. These men here know they’d best keep their mouths shut! I can trust them. You go back to the ranch, and not a word will be said about this again, understand? I’m chalking this one up to your being too lonely out here and too young and naive. Like most women, you’re easily duped by a handsome man.”
She jerked her arm away. “Don’t be so insulting! I’m nineteen years old, Father! I’ve been to school in the East! I’ve met plenty of handsome young men, but none of them was as wonderful and sweet as Zeke Brown!”
Zeke heard the slap, the scream, the tears. He struggled to get to his feet to help Georgeanne, but his body wouldn’t move for him, and when he opened his eyes he saw only darkness.
“I’m sorry, Georgeanne, but you need some sense knocked into you,” Temple told his daughter. “I’m sending you back East for a while, away from all this. And I’m telling you right now, if you really care what’s best for this boy here—and his family—you’ll never see him again. Never! I’ll let them off light this time, but any more of this, and they’ll suffer! I’ll burn them out, shoot their horses, kill this kid’s father, if I have to, kill him, too! If that’s what it takes to keep you away from him, I’ll do it. I’ll not have any colored grandbabies, you understand, girl? I hope to hell you haven’t let him stick himself inside you! That’s all boys like this want, don’t you know that? They all dream about getting inside white girls!”
“Stop it!” Georgeanne screamed, putting her hands to her ears. “Zeke’s never touched me that way! He’s always been honorable.”
“Bullshit! Get on your horse and ride back with Luke.”
“No! I won’t leave Zeke! He’s hurt, and you’re going to hurt him more!”
“Don’t you worry about him. I’ll just take him back to his folks and set them straight! But I will hurt him more if you don’t leave, right now!”
“No, wait!”
Zeke heard Georgeanne struggling and protesting.
“Do like I say, girl, if you don’t want him hurt any worse than he is.”
“Promise me! Promise me, Father!”
“Just get on th
at horse and ride out of here!”
More tears, followed by the sound of a couple of horses riding off.
“Loop a rope around his boots,” Zeke heard Temple order. “We’ll take the boy back to his folks, but not on his horse.”
Zeke felt the rope being tied around his ankles.
“Give me the other end. I’ll tie it around my saddle. He won’t be such a pretty boy by the time he gets home. Bring his horse along. We wouldn’t want to be called horse thieves, now, would we, boys?”
Zeke heard laughter, felt a tug at his ankles. Horror engulfed him when he realized what Temple was going to do. It was close to two miles back to his place, and he’d be dragged through dry grass and over gravelly ground—some of it baked hard by summer sun—over rocks and anything else that might be in the way, but there was nothing he could do to stop it from happening. “Georgie,” he whispered.
“Mother!” The word was screamed, in a way that told any mother her daughter was horribly upset. Abbie jumped up from where she had been sitting by the creek where the irises bloomed, the place she used to share with Zeke. She ran back toward the house, noticing several men out front sitting on horses. Even from this distance Abbie could tell there was a body on the ground behind one of the horses. Margaret was bent over it, screaming and wailing Zeke’s name. Little five-year-old Lance stood beside her crying.
“My God,” Abbie moaned. She ran toward the house, heading for the back door first. Morgan was over a mile away with the other ranch hands, singling out horses to take to Pueblo to sell. Swift Arrow and young Nathan had gone with him. She and Margaret were here alone. She ran to a wall and grabbed an old shotgun that once belonged to Zeke, hoping it was loaded, and hoping that if she had to use it, it would not blow up on her. She marched out the front door then, pointing the gun at the big man whose horse had dragged Zeke’s body. “You must be that stinking, yellow bastard they call Carson Temple!” she said, taking a firm stance.
All the men looked at her in surprise. “Who the hell are you?” Temple asked.
Abbie had to agree the man was indeed intimidating, what with his size and his booming voice; the look in his icy blue eyes.
“I am Zeke Brown’s grandmother, and believe me, mister, I’ve killed men before! I was out here fighting to settle this land before you ever ventured into this land! And if my husband were still alive, he’d have your hide ripped open right now. You’d be food for buzzards! What have you done to my grandson!”
The man shifted in his saddle. “You Abigail Monroe?”
“I asked the first question!”
“He’s alive. All I’ve done is give him fair warning. He touches my daughter again, he’s dead! Maybe his parents, too. This house burned, the barns burned, the horses run off. You understand that?”
Margaret looked up from Zeke’s bloodied body. “What are you talking about?”
Temple cut the rope that held Zeke, then turned his horse. “You don’t know?”
Margaret rose. “I only know you tried to kill my son!” she screamed. She ran up to the man and hit at him fruitlessly. Temple placed a foot against her chest and thrust her to the ground with it. The other men laughed.
Abbie fired the shotgun into the air, silencing all of them. “That will bring Zeke’s father and his men, along with my husband, Swift Arrow, a full-blooded Cheyenne who was at the Custer massacre, a man who would dearly love to return to his warrior ways and kill more white men! I suggest all of you leave!” She aimed the shotgun at Temple. “Shoot me if you want, Mr. Temple. I am sure shooting a woman would mean nothing to a coward who beats and tortures young boys! But I’ll tell you one thing. You’ll go down, too! From this distance I could open a pretty big hole in your fat belly!”
The man looked at the others, who all grinned. He looked back at Abbie. “You tell your grandson to never see my daughter again. If he stays away from her, I’ll leave his folks and this place alone … if they can prove legal title.”
“It’s legal all right! I’ll be bringing back the proof in just a couple of weeks! The ranch is also in the name of my brother-in-law, a white man named Dan Monroe, who was an officer in the United States Army! And I am part owner—Abigail Trent Monroe. I am white! My half-Cheyenne husband was the finest man who ever walked! He built this ranch, and you could never hold a candle to him in courage, honor, skill—not in any way! Now get off our land!”
Temple turned to Margaret. “I’ve got plenty more men, and I own the law. You damn well know I can come back here and rip this place apart! I can make things so bad for you, you’ll have to sell! You tell your son it’s all up to him! All he has to do is never see my daughter again! His family’s fate is in his hands!” He turned his horse and signaled the others to leave. They rode off just as Morgan and Swift Arrow and the others appeared at the top of a hill, in response to Abbie’s gunshot. They rode in fast when they saw Temple and his men riding away.
Margaret walked back to Zeke, collapsing beside him. “My God, Mother, look at him! He could die!”
Abbie gathered her courage and forced herself to walk over to where the young man lay in a bloodied heap. His vest hung in shreds, and his skin was ripped and bleeding, bruised everywhere. He groaned, tried to move.
“Lie still, Zeke,” Abbie told him.
The men reached them, Morgan jumping down and running up to his son. “God in heaven!” He looked toward Temple and his men. “I’ll kill him!”
“And you’d be hanged!” Abbie told him. She glanced at Swift Arrow, saw murder in his eyes. “Please, my husband, keep your senses about you. I know what you want to do, but right now Zeke needs us, and I need you, just as Margaret needs Morgan. Remember we live under new laws now! Don’t try to go after them.”
Swift Arrow, fists clenched, looked down at her proudly. “Men should be allowed to live the old way, allowed to avenge such a thing!”
“What did he mean about Zeke and his daughter?” Margaret wept.
“He was seeing Carson Temple’s daughter,” Abbie told her.
“What!” Morgan bent down beside his son. “How do you know? Why didn’t you tell us?”
“He told me just two days ago. I warned him how dangerous it was, and I made him promise to talk to you before he saw her again. Apparently he did not heed my warning.” She leaned down and gently touched her grandson’s hair. “She must be a wonderful young woman, nothing like her father. He said he loves her.”
“My God,” Margaret wailed. “I could have told him! I know what happens in cases like that!”
“Not in all of them, Margaret! And it was not Georgeanne Temple who hurt him, it was her father. It’s different from what happened to you, but there is no time to talk about any of it now. We’ve to get Zeke inside and do something for him.”
“Help me pick him up,” Morgan told Swift Arrow.
The two men carried Zeke inside, and sixteen-year-old Nathan, bitter hatred in his dark eyes, picked up Lance to try to stop his crying. Margaret hurried after Zeke and the men. “Take care of your little brother,” Abbie told Nathan, who looked very much like his older brother, but was not built as big.
“Will he die?” he asked Abbie.
Abbie held up her chin “We won’t let him. I nursed your grandfather back from worse injuries, and Zeke is young and healthy.” She hurried inside, where Zeke lay in his own bedroom, shivering and groaning, moaning Georgeanne’s name.
“He … hit her,” he murmured. “I’ll k-kill him! Kill him!”
Margaret began gently bathing Zeke’s wounds, and Abbie looked across the room at Swift Arrow, who stood watching with arms folded, fierce anger in his eyes. He would dearly love to avenge this the Indian way. She begged him with her eyes not to try to do so. “Ride and get Ellen and Hal, will you?” she asked him.
He came close to her. “I will get them.” He grasped her arms gently. “The white man lives by a strange law, one that is good only for the white man, but bad for all others.”
She put her han
ds to his chest. “Remember that. I could not bear to lose another husband, not this soon.”
Tears trickled down her cheeks, and Swift Arrow leaned down to kiss them. “I will remember.”
He turned and left, and she hated the fact that men like Swift Arrow had to swallow their pride the way they did now. She knew how hard it was for such men. She looked at Morgan, such a big, handsome, gentle man, who was once a slave. He well knew what men like Carson Temple were capable of. Temple was probably right. The fate of this ranch and of Zeke’s family lay in whatever decision Zeke made once he recovered … if he recovered.
Nine
The train rumbled into Cheyenne, and Wolf’s Blood looked out at the crowds in the street. The banner that hung across it read COWBOY AND INDIAN FESTIVAL. Tables with food on them were set up all along the boardwalks, some with wares for sale, and just as the train passed that street he could see horses and riders dashing along a cross street, apparently in a race.
“Some kind of shindig going on, I see,” Dan commented.
Wolf’s Blood sneered. “Cowboy and Indian festival, so the banner reads. I wonder where they got the Indians. There sure aren’t any to speak of anyplace close by.”
“First they get rid of them, then they have festivals using the idea of Indians for excitement.” Jason leaned over to look out the window himself.
“If they want to see a wild Indian in action, I could show them some real excitement,” Wolf’s Blood commented.
Jennifer squeezed his hand. “I think you had better stay away from the festivities,” she told her husband with a soft smile.
Wolf’s Blood snickered. “Don’t worry. I have no interest. Dan and Jason and I will go and get our horses and the wagon.”
“Are you sure your mother and Swift Arrow will be all right riding all the way back to Montana on horseback?” Rebecca asked. “I hate to take the wagon and make Abbie ride.”
Wolf’s Blood laughed a little harder. “I thought you knew my mother better than that by now.”
Eagle’s Song Page 10
