Eagle’s Song

by Rosanne Bittner

  Dan grinned, feeling a little tug at his heart. There was a time, after Zeke died, when he’d thought about asking Abbie to marry him; but the only man who could even come close to replacing Zeke was Swift Arrow. Rebecca was a sweet wife. She’d come to the Cheyenne reservation for missionary work, and she had been easy to love. He’d never told her about his feelings for Abbie. “Abbie used to ride horseback, and sometimes walk, for hundreds of miles, when she lived and migrated with the Cheyenne,” he told Rebecca. “She might be older now, but the toughness is still there. She’ll be just fine.”

  The train puffed to the station platform, where more crowds were gathered. Wolf’s Blood dreaded having to get off amid so many people. He looked forward to getting home to the peace and quiet of his own ranch, even though he would again be confined to the reservation. He missed Hawk and Iris already, but was happy Jeremy would get to know them better. He felt good about his talk with Jeremy, had actually regretted having to leave him back in Denver.

  He imagined Hawk and Iris had been quite mesmerized by Denver and their uncle Jeremy’s mansion. That was all right. He wanted more for them than the confines of reservation life. Jeremy could give them that. The white man’s world was here to stay. They might as well learn to live in it.

  Jennifer leaned near him to look out the window, and he knew a twinge of guilt over his educated, refined wife having to live on a reservation. He could tell by her eyes that she missed Denver some, as she’d lived and taught there for years before her first husband died. Still, though she had given up the excitement of Denver to be with her Indian husband, she had not lost the glow of her love for him. Besides that, she was near her father, which meant a lot to her.

  He leaned over to whisper in her ear. “I will be glad to get home and get you to bed,” he told her. They had not been able to make love all this time, between traveling, sleeping together with other family members and men and women being separated between the barn and the house while at the ranch. He enjoyed watching her blush at the remark. She was so fair, the red only glowed even deeper. She laughed lightly, and Wolf’s Blood gave her a quick kiss, not unaware that some of the passengers on the train were staring and whispering.

  The train finally stopped, and they disembarked. “Let’s get the horses and get out of here quick,” Wolf’s Blood commented, conscious of more stares.

  “Is he one of the Indians in the show, Mother?” one young boy asked.

  “I don’t think so, dear. He just got off the train. Besides, the Indians in the show are just white men painted up to look like Indians. That man looks real.”

  Wolf’s Blood glanced at the woman, deliberately giving her a dark glare he might give someone he was about to attack and kill. He enjoyed seeing the sudden fear in her eyes. She grabbed her son’s hand and hurried away. Wolf’s Blood just shook his head and chuckled, but deep inside he felt a growing rage. White men painted up to be Indians? What a farce! If they wanted to put on a show with Indians, why not use real ones?

  He waited with Dan for their baggage, and they all took some bags, carrying them to the end of the platform, where Rebecca and Jennifer would watch everything while the men went for the horses and wagon they’d left boarded here four weeks ago. Just as they prepared to step off the platform, four men who had apparently been drinking heavily charged toward the train station on horseback, whooping and yelping, shooting handguns into the air.

  “Hey, there’s one of them wild Indians!” one of them laughed, pointing his gun playfully at Wolf’s Blood. “Maybe we ought to shoot him!”

  A few women screamed and scrambled out of the way, dragging children with them.

  “Put those guns away, you idiots!” Dan shouted. “Guns aren’t allowed in Cheyenne any longer.”

  “You the law?” one of the men asked, a grin on his face.

  “I just got off the train, but I can sure as hell go get the law!”

  People backed away as the men pranced their horses around, waving their guns and laughing. The one who had spoken to Dan turned his eyes back to Wolf’s Blood, who stood glaring at him, unflinching, obviously contemptuous of the drunken fool. The man noticed the fair-skinned, red-headed woman standing beside Wolf’s Blood, clinging to his arm.

  “Hey, lady, what you doin’ hangin’ on to that Indian buck? Decent white women don’t let themselves be seen touchin’ dirty Indians.”

  People whispered, and one woman told her husband to run and get the sheriff.

  “This man is my husband,” Jennifer replied boldly.

  “And my nephew,” Dan put in. “Now get the hell out of the street with those guns before someone gets hurt!”

  The man actually cocked his gun, still waving it in Wolf’s Blood’s direction. “How’s come you got an uncle with blond hair and blue eyes, and a wife with red hair and green eyes, huh? That don’t make sense. You must be the product of some white woman bein’ raped by some damn savage.”

  Wolf’s Blood started forward, but Jennifer kept hold of his arm. “Wolf’s Blood, don’t! You aren’t even armed!”

  “Except for my knife”—he sneered—“and my father taught me to use it well!” He gave Jennifer a gentle push back, resting a hand on the handle of his wicked Bowie knife, the one his father had given him as a gift years ago.

  “You thinkin’ on takin’ a scalp, Indian?”

  “Maybe this is just one of the shows,” a man in the background commented.

  “I don’t know. I don’t like the looks of it,” someone else replied.

  “Hold up there! Guns aren’t allowed in town,” a man shouted from up the street. Wolf’s Blood noticed he wore a badge.

  “We’re just havin’ a little fun, Sheriff,” one of the drunken cowboys told him.

  Everything then happened in a brief few seconds. A young boy set off a firecracker, and the noise caused the horse of the man closest to Wolf’s Blood to rear. The sudden motion and the startling sound of the firecracker made the drunken cowboy release the hammer of his handgun, and it fired. The stray bullet found a mark, and Wolf’s Blood felt Jennifer’s hold on him suddenly tighten as her body jerked. People screamed and scattered, hanging farther back to stare at Wolf’s Blood as he hung on to Jennifer as she slumped, her forehead opened up from a bullet hole. He lowered her gently to the street, and he did not need his brother Jason, a doctor, to tell him his wife was dead.

  So quickly! In one short breath the woman he’d kissed just minutes earlier, promised they’d make love when they got home, was no longer alive. His beautiful Jennifer, whom he had had with him for only a few months … innocent, sweet, loving … and some drunken cowboy had killed her, just because he’d wanted to show his oats to an Indian—an Indian. This was his fault. Jennifer had married an Indian, and she had died for it!

  This was no time for reason. All that was wild and vengeful in him surfaced, all the rage at what his people had suffered over the years, his frustration at being confined to a reservation, at being considered less than human just because of his looks—all exploded into power and revenge, and the man who was once an honored warrior, an esteemed Dog Soldier, whirled, yanking out the Bowie knife. Before Dan or the authorities or anyone could reach him, Wolf’s Blood threw the knife, landing it into the heart of the cowboy who had shot Jennifer.

  But that was not enough to quell the rage inside of him. He ran up to the man, yanked out the knife and deftly scalped him. There were more screams, and people backed farther away, even the sheriff.

  “No, Wolf’s Blood! Stop! Stop now before it’s too late!”

  He recognized Dan’s voice.

  “Wolf’s Blood, don’t!”

  That was Jason. He thought about Hawk and Iris, his precious children. He would miss them dearly. And poor young Emily, seeing her mother shot down before her eyes, seeing her stepfather scalp a man. But there was no stopping it. She would learn to understand. A couple of bullets whizzed past him. The other men were shooting at him, but they were too drunk to hit their mark. Let
ting out a war whoop, he leaped at one of them, ramming the knife into his side and pulling him off his horse. He deftly mounted the horse, ducked another bullet, vaguely aware that most people in the crowd had flattened themselves on the ground or ducked behind cover. He charged a third man, letting out another shrill cry of revenge. The man tried to flee, but Wolf’s Blood caught up to him and rammed his knife into his back, startling people up the street, people who were unaware of what had taken place near the train depot. He reached over and sliced off another piece of scalp.

  People stared, unsure if this was real or an act. Those who realized it was real ran for cover, terrified of the “wild Indian” who had apparently gone mad.

  Wolf’s Blood rode hard then, felt a couple more bullets whiz past him. That must be the sheriff shooting at him. He had no idea what he would do, where he would go. He only knew he had to get out of town. He was Indian. He’d killed some white men. Maybe Jennifer’s death was an accident, but that would not matter. He’d killed two men besides the one who shot her. It had been right, necessary. His heart screamed with grief for his wife. When he reached the distant mountains and was alone, he would cut his arms and chest, let blood in his mourning. He would never hold Jennifer again, never make love to her. He might never see his children again, or Dan or his sisters and brothers … or his precious mother.

  So be it. Somehow he’d known this was his destiny. He’d wanted to die like a warrior. Now there would be no choice. He forced back the tears. There would be time later for crying. He had to get away or be hanged, and no Indian wanted to die by hanging, for hanging strangled the spirit and kept it from reaching the land beyond, where buffalo were still plenty in numbers … and where his precious father waited for him.

  * * *

  A messenger brought the telegram to Jeremy’s home.

  “What’s this about?” Jeremy asked.

  The man sighed. “It’s from Cheyenne. You’d best just read the telegram, Mr. Monroe.”

  Jeremy took it with a frown, paying the man for bringing it before going to his study. He decided to read the message alone first, his heart beating faster with dread. He suspected it must be some kind of bad news, feared it could have something to do with Wolf’s Blood, since he’d gone on up to Cheyenne yesterday after the rest of them got off in Denver.

  He closed the door. Mary was downtown with LeeAnn and all the children, and Joshua was sitting on the back porch, enjoying the vast, manicured gardens behind the house. Jeremy opened the telegram, read it, felt as though the blood was flowing right out of his body. “No!” he groaned.

  He read it again, tears coming to his eyes. He could hardly see as he left the room and made his way on shaky legs down the richly paneled hallway that led to the kitchen at the back of the house. One of the cooks said something to him, but he didn’t even hear. He walked out the back door to find Joshua, who immediately rose in alarm at the look on his brother-in-law’s face.

  “Jeremy! What the hell is wrong!”

  Jeremy handed Joshua the telegram and turned away, his shoulders shaking. “I’ll never see him again,” he groaned.

  A bewildered Joshua read the letter. It was from Dan. SHOOTING ACCIDENT IN CHEYENNE. JENNIFER ACCIDENTALLY KILLED. WOLF’S BLOOD KILLED SHOOTIST AND TWO OTHERS. FLED ON STOLEN HORSE. LAW AFTER HIM. CATCH ABBIE AT STATION IN DENVER AND EXPLAIN. COME WITH HER. BRING IRIS AND HAWK. THIS IS TERRIBLE LOSS. JENNIFER MY ONLY CHILD. OUR HEARTS BROKEN AT WHAT WOLF’S BLOOD MUST SUFFER. WILL EXPLAIN MORE WHEN YOU ARRIVE. DAN.

  Joshua folded the telegram, finding it difficult to believe what he had just read. “Dear God,” he murmured.

  “How could it all have happened?” Jeremy groaned.

  “Maybe you should come to Cheyenne with us after Abbie gets here and learn the details. I can just imagine what the headlines have been like in my newspaper. I wonder if the man I left in charge realized Wolf’s Blood was my brother-in-law.” A lump rose in his throat at the words. Just days ago they had all been a strong, unified family, closer than any of them had ever been. He looked at Jeremy, could see he was still crying. This was a tragedy for him. No one knew what had been said between him and Wolf’s Blood at the reunion, but they had obviously become much closer. “How in God’s name are we going to tell Hawk and Iris?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “I don’t know.” He sniffed. “It’s just like my brother, isn’t it?” he tried to joke. “I can just see him going after those men. And right in town!” He broke down again, taking a moment to recover. “If that isn’t just like what our father would have done! It was in him, Josh, you know? It was just … in him. His wife was killed, and he … couldn’t let that go unavenged. He still lived in that … old world … where a man could deal out his own justice.”

  Joshua walked over and put a hand on his arm. “It’s more important than ever now for you to teach Hawk and Iris a new way, Jeremy. We have to teach Hawk that the best revenge is to learn how to deal with things like this the legal way.”

  Jeremy nodded. “Wolf’s Blood must be in a living hell right now, out there somewhere alone. But I know him well enough to know they’ll never catch him. Not Wolf’s Blood. He won’t be found until he wants to be and he’ll die just like …” His voice broke again. “Just like my father did. He’ll die like a warrior.” He took a deep breath and swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Did you know he was beginning to get the same disease Zeke had? Arthritis?”

  Joshua frowned. “No. He told you that?”

  Jeremy nodded. “That day we talked. He said that was why … he wanted me to look out for Iris and Hawk. I know deep down he’ll find a better way to die than lying in bed a cripple, just like Zeke did.” He threw back his head and sighed. “He and Jennifer have only been married a few months. He hasn’t even been out of that Florida prison for a full year yet. Now he’ll … be living in another kind of prison.”

  Joshua turned away, feeling sick. It was going to be just as hard to tell Abbie about this as to tell Hawk and Iris. And he hated the thought of telling LeeAnn. He wasn’t sure whether to send a wire to Margaret’s or to wait until Abbie reached Denver. Either way, Margaret and Ellen had to be told about their brother. Thank God the family had had that one last reunion.

  He heard it then, the screeching call, almost a sound of distress. He looked up. “My God. Look at that, Jeremy.”

  Jeremy turned to him, then walked down the steps and looked up. An eagle floated above the house. Jeremy shivered, more tears coming. “Father,” he whispered.

  “His spirit is restless. His firstborn is in trouble,” Joshua said quietly.

  Abbie sat at the creek again, one last time before she would leave. Young Zeke was still in a bad way, but she had to get home and get that deed in order to see that all the legalities were taken care of for Margaret and Morgan. That would help save the ranch, but something else was important. Poor young Zeke had a difficult decision to make.

  It was a beautiful summer morning, birds singing, the water rippling past. She fingered a purple iris she had broken away from where others bloomed, studied its perfect shape and beauty, remembered a time when Zeke had surprised her here after he’d been away for many weeks. She’d seen some of the purple iris floating on top of the water and turned to see where they’d come from, and there he’d stood.

  It was pretty here, peaceful. She thought how life could be so wonderful if it were not for people like Carson Temple. She smelled the fresh air, closed her eyes and let the warm breeze caress her face, felt the sun on her skin. She wished she could shake this sensation that something was terribly wrong and that it was something more than just the tragedy that her grandson had suffered.

  “So, here you are.” The words came from Swift Arrow, who dismounted a shiny black gelding, part of Morgan’s huge herd of finely bred horses. “I thought I would find you here.”

  “I think better here. Zeke and I made a lot of decisions here, and this is where we spent our last …” She drew in her breath, getting up fro
m the grass to face Swift Arrow as he walked closer, holding the reins to the horse. “Swift Arrow, something is wrong!”

  “Of course. Young Zeke—”

  “No! I felt it yesterday evening, but I didn’t say anything.”

  “Felt what?”

  She turned away. “A kind of pressure on my heart, a tingling in my blood.” She folded her arms and rubbed the backs of them as though chilled, even though it was a very warm day. “I’ve felt this way before, Swift Arrow, at times when Zeke was in trouble.” She shook her head. “I’m scared. Not just for Zeke, but for the rest of the family. Someone else needs me.”

  He walked up and put his hands on her shoulders. “We will leave in only a little while for home. Then you will know.”

  She turned to face him. “I hate leaving Zeke in this condition. I’m worried about what he’ll do when he’s stronger, worried about poor Margaret and Morgan.”

  “We will get the deed, and our grandson will simply have to do the wisest thing for the moment. I have spoken with him. I explained to him how once, when I was not so much older than he, I, too, fell in love with a woman I could not have. I had to ignore the pain in my heart and go far away from her to try to forget her, someplace where I knew I would not have to see her and want her. I explained that I lived without her love for many, many years.”

  She placed her hands on his shoulders. “And did you explain who it was?”

  “That it was his own grandmother?”

  She smiled through tears. “I never realized, Swift Arrow.”

  “It would not have mattered. Zeke was your whole world, and that was as it should be. Yes, I explained it to young Zeke, only because I wanted him to understand that sometimes we must give up the one we love, although his situation is very different. The woman he loves is not attached to another. But he has the family honor to think about, keeping this land in the family, keeping his parents from suffering, as well as his brothers. It is apparent men like Carson Temple cannot be stopped.” His eyes beamed with hatred. “But I could stop him for you if you say the word.”