Georgeanne watched her father’s face begin to redden. “I told you I sold this place to an attorney from Denver, Evan Dillon.”
“Oh, we know. Mr. Dillon owns shares in Zeke’s gold mine. So does Zeke’s cousin, Hawk Monroe, the attorney. He works for the law firm of Webster, Dillon, Jacoby & Monroe. Monroe. Do you understand what I’m saying? What you don’t know is, actually the entire law firm bought your land, Father, with the specific, contracted intention of turning right around and selling it to Zeke and me, which has already been done. Zeke Brown now owns everything that once was yours, and the best part is, we still haven’t come close to spending all our money. Isn’t it a shame? A man with Negro and Indian blood owns half the eastern section of Colorado. And just think, some of his ancestors were slaves to men like you. What’s even better is a lot of this land used to belong to the Cheyenne, more of Zeke’s ancestors. Now some of their descendants will own this land again, fair and square.”
Temple simply stared at her, dumbfounded. Zeke hurried after little Jason, who was rapidly making his way on hands and knees out the door. He picked him up and came back to stand in front of Temple with the boy in his arms. “The Cheyenne believe life is one great circle,” he told the man. “And I suppose it is. This only proves it. My Indian ancestors were chased off this land, robbed of everything that was rightfully theirs. Now I and my children will own some of it again. My Indian cousin, Hawk, will also own some of it, as will any of my other relatives who wish to live here. I believe you have sixty days to vacate the premises, Mr. Temple. It might be easier on all of us if you left sooner than that, but you may have the sixty days. Take whatever you want. I don’t need the house. The land is all I care about.”
Temple literally trembled. “You bastard!”
“Watch your language in front of my sons.” Zeke handed Jason to Georgeanne. “In spite of everything you’ve done to us, in spite of what you did to me, Temple, Georgeanne and I are willing to let you be a part of your grandchildren’s lives, if you decide you would like to be. The door will always be open, but not if you are going to say things hurtful to my sons! The decision is yours.”
Temple glanced at the boys again, unable to deny they were beautiful. But when he thought of the kind of blood that ran in their veins … He looked at Georgeanne, his beautiful daughter. He’d been so proud of her strength and courage. She was so different from her weak, whimpering mother, but he never thought she’d use that strength to defy her own father. “You honestly own my ranch?”
She faced him squarely. “Every inch of it. We have the deeds to prove it. You can take the money and go back to Georgia, Father. I know that’s what you’ve always wanted to do. There you can enjoy your empty, lonely life, or you can think about the gentle wife you killed—my mother!—think about how you let your hatred ruin your daughter’s love for you. You will grow old and die without your daughter near you, without ever having known your grandsons and any of the children Zeke and I will yet have. It’s your decision, Father. I’ve never wanted any of this. If you can’t see Zeke as just a man, a very intelligent, successful, hardworking man who loves his family and provides well for them, then go back to Georgia and don’t let me hear from you again.”
For a brief moment Temple saw himself through his daughter’s eyes. She had his grit, his strength. That was what he’d loved about her. Now he hated it. “You had no right doing this behind my back.”
“You had no right promising me you wouldn’t hurt Zeke that day you found us together, then nearly killing him and never telling me about it. You stole six years from us, Father. If I hadn’t found Zeke when I did, you would have stolen a lifetime of happiness from me. I am happy now, and I want you to be happy for me. If you can’t be, then this will be our last meeting. I just wanted to be sure you knew who owns this place now!”
The man slowly nodded. “You’ve always hated me because of your mother, haven’t you?”
Georgeanne’s eyes suddenly teared. “Part of me has. Another part of me has always wanted to be close to you, Father. But you don’t know how to be close to anyone. You only know how to rule and manipulate, to use people. I don’t want you to die a lonely old man, but that is how it’s going to be for you. Oh, you’ll die rich, I’m sure, probably on some new plantation in Georgia. But money can’t love you, Father. I know if Zeke and I lost everything today, we’d still have each other and our little boys, and Zeke’s loving family. We’d be all right. I’m sorry for you, Father. You’ve missed out on all that’s important in life.”
She turned with Jason in her arms and walked out, ordering little Peter to come with her. Zeke stood alone with Temple in the foyer for several seconds, studying the man, realizing the real victory lay in seeing the look on Temple’s face at this moment, not in killing him. Briefly, sorrow showed in Temple’s steely, blue eyes, but just as quickly hatred replaced the sorrow as he looked back at Zeke.
“She doesn’t know it, but a slave raped and killed my own mother!” he growled. “How can I not hate them—any people of color!”
Zeke stepped closer, his gaze never leaving Temple’s. “White men raped and killed some of my Indian ancestors. The Indians raped and killed in return. Negroes have been brutalized by men like you for a hundred years! It’s all part of the great circle I told you about, Temple, and it’s up to each man not to let the hatred and vengeance go on and on from one generation to the next. We can choose to stop the hatred and put an end to the violence! The Indian people have learned they can no longer fight for what once was theirs. They have resigned themselves to being on reservations, but some, like my cousin, Hawk, have learned to live a new way, to fight a new way. The Negroes now also have that opportunity, and most of them only want peace, the right to live a good life. It all has to stop somewhere, Temple. As for my part, it’s going to stop with me and my sons. When—and if—you stop being part of a cycle of hatred and vengeance is up to you. Life is too damn short to spend in loneliness. You have a beautiful daughter who would like to feel free to love her own father, two handsome grandsons who would like to know their grandfather. I can’t beat you into doing what’s right, although part of me wants to do just that. It has to come from you, from the heart! ”
Zeke turned and walked out. Then Temple walked over and slumped down onto the winding stairway that led to the empty rooms on the second level. The house was pervaded by loneliness. He listened to the rattle of the carriage outside as Georgeanne left with Zeke and her children … his grandchildren. The first time he’d seen little Peter, something had tugged at his heart. Now there was a second grandson. A little part of him felt like crying, but he refused to allow it.
Never! He’d never allow himself a relationship with, or acknowledgment of, grandsons with Negro and Indian blood! He rose, feeling an odd pain in his chest but ignoring it. Rage filled him at the thought of Zeke Brown owning his land! Well, the man could damn well have it! But, by God, he’d not enjoy this beautiful home or the use of any of the outbuildings! Everything would be burned to the ground!
Twenty-four
Abbie hoed a row of vegetables behind the old cabin, grateful for the return of warm weather. This was one of her most pleasant tasks, planting seeds and watching vegetables grow, storing carrots and potatoes in the cellar Zeke had dug under the cabin for that purpose … so many, many years ago. She canned other vegetables, still had several jars of peppers and tomatoes left from last year.
She smiled at Margaret’s teasing that she still lived as though she had a big family to feed. Mother, you don’t need to store so much food anymore. Why do you go to all this work?
“Because I need to,” she muttered now, reaching down and pulling out a stubborn weed. “I need to keep busy, and I need to pretend I do still have a family to feed.” That family was grown and scattered. This was July, 1899, and Jeremy was forty-six now. Wolf’s Blood was fifty-one, his new son by Sweet Bird eight, their daughter four … grandchildren she had still never seen.
Dan�
�s granddaughter, Emily, had married and moved to Nebraska; and Dan’s widow, Rebecca, had moved back East. Young Zeke was thirty, not so young anymore. He and Georgeanne were among the richest people of Colorado and owned more land now than just about anyone in the state.
She straightened, leaning on the hoe and shaking her head. Wouldn’t Zeke love to know about his namesake’s new wealth? And wouldn’t he be proud of all his grandchildren? Zeke and Georgeanne’s Peter was four, little Jason one year old. Zeke’s brother, Nathan, was twenty-eight, and he and Susan had two little girls. Lance was seventeen, a fine, strapping young man who worked hard on the old ranch, helping his father as much as he could. Morgan was beginning to feel the aches and pains of growing older. One day soon Nathan and Lance would take over most of the ranch work.
Ellen and Hal’s Lillian was engaged to be married. Daniel was sixteen, and he was fast learning the merchant business from his father. LeeAnn was forty-seven, Joshua forty-five. Matthew, twenty-one, was in college in Michigan. It seemed impossible that her youngest son, Jason, turned forty this year. It had been so many years since she’d seen him. His and Louellen’s oldest son Jonathan was nine, their daughter Marian five. And just a year ago Louellen had given birth to another son, James.
Fifteen grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren! She was sixty-nine herself now! Sixty-nine! Wasn’t it only a few years ago she was fifteen and headed West on a wagon train? How could time possibly go so fast? How could it be twenty years since Zeke was killed by soldiers at Fort Robinson? Nine years since Swift Arrow died at Wounded Knee? It was all so incredibly impossible, yet all too real. This cabin Zeke had built for her was fifty years old and beginning to sag. Margaret had begged her to come and live at the big house with her but the old cabin was enough for Abigail Monroe. It was where her memories lay. It was wonderful that Zeke had been able to buy all of his father-in-law’s land, but the old, original ranch was all she cared about. It was protected now, thanks to Margaret and Morgan’s early years of struggle to hang on to it, and to Zeke’s buying up so much land around it.
Carson Temple had died of a heart attack before he’d gotten back to Georgia. His death had been difficult for Georgeanne, who had hoped the man would reconcile with her and his grandchildren before his death. He had not, and Abbie had to wonder if God would accept such a man into heaven. Temple was buried on the land he’d been so determined his daughter and Zeke would never get their hands on; now they owned all of it. Some of his help had said Temple had threatened to burn down the beautiful Tynes mansion, but had died before he could do so.
Somehow, almost miraculously, her family had survived many obstacles, rising above all of them. Her children were successful men and women, her grandchildren enjoyed the same success. She was especially proud of Zeke and Hawk for their wonderful accomplishments, but she felt sorry for Hawk. He had allowed himself to fall in love with Arianne, who had left Denver and gone back to Ohio. He had tried to hide the truth when he’d come to the ranch to visit at Easter, boasting only about winning the case against Denver. But Abbie had seen the hurt in his eyes, and she’d gotten the truth out of her grandson.
Perhaps it was for the best. She had told him so. It was hard enough surviving a mixed marriage, let alone having Arianne going into it unsure her love was strong enough to withstand the problems that would arise. She knew Hawk’s hurt was not so much over losing Arianne as over the basic reason for losing her. Her spurning him because he was Indian had rudely awakened him to the fundamental hostility that still pervaded the minds of many whites. Abbie’s relief came in seeing the stubborn pride in Hawk’s eyes. He had not let what happened make him ashamed to be Indian. It had only made him more determined to continue proving himself as good as the next man.
Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard horses and wagons approaching. She set her hoe against the back of the cabin and walked around the front to see Daniel driving a wagon, Ellen beside him in the seat. In the back was what looked like an Indian woman and three small children. Behind her wagon came another, both wagons stamped H. D. SUPPLIES; the wagons belonged to Ellen’s husband, Hal Daniels. The second wagon was driven by someone she did not even recognize at first, but she did know the man beside him, or at least she hoped so. The years rolled away as the wagons came closer, and her heart pounded harder.
Wolf’s Blood! He was dressed like a white man, but his long, black hair hung loose, and he still looked so much like his father! In the back of the wagon was another Indian woman with two more young children. Abbie drew in her breath, putting her hands to her mouth in surprise. Wolf’s Blood had come, and surely he had his family with him, the family she’d never seen! It was Jason, her baby, Jason, who had brought him. Her oldest and youngest sons, with their families! She was too surprised and happy to care about how and why Wolf’s Blood had come here. All that mattered was that she would see these two sons she had not seen in so very long, as well as the grandchildren she’d never known.
Wolf’s Blood began climbing down before the wagon even came to a halt, and Abbie forgot all of her own aches and pains and began running, throwing out her arms. Moments later her eldest son was holding her, oh, so much in the way Zeke used to greet her. She burst into tears, clinging to him, knowing somewhere in the back of her mind the real reason he was here. She did not want to think about it. Not yet.
After several minutes she exchanged an embrace with Jason, who seemed bigger and stronger. Jason had always been the shorter, more slender son, but he was forty years old now and had filled out in the way of men who are happily married. She noticed he had let his hair grow long also. He had always kept it short. She supposed now he’d owned up to his own heritage and was fitting in better on the reservation. “Your hair!” she commented.
“I got tired of the Cheyenne looking at me as a white man. Some of them wouldn’t let me doctor them because of that. I had to make them understand I am part Indian myself, and letting my hair grow seemed to impress them. More of them let me doctor them now.”
She grasped both of them, unable to stop her own tears. “Oh, Jason! Wolf’s Blood! I can hardly believe it! Margaret will be so happy! And Ellen, you’ve come, too!” She caught the sadness in Ellen’s eyes in spite of her smile, and she knew her daughter probably was already aware of why Wolf’s Blood had come.
“I wanted to see as much of my long-lost brothers as possible,” Ellen answered. “Lillian stayed in town because she can’t stand being away from her fiancé for five minutes!” she laughed. “And Hal had to take care of the store.”
“Of course. Oh, Wolf’s Blood, Jason, I want to see my grandchildren! And Wolf’s Blood, I’ve never even met your wife! How did you get here? If anyone saw you—”
“I’ll explain after you’ve had time to meet and visit with the families,” he told her.
Jason went to help Louellen and his three children out of a wagon, and Daniel helped Sweet Bird down. Abbie turned to Wolf’s Blood again, her eyes clearing of tears. Old! No, not her son. Not her young warrior! He should not have lines on his face! She looked down and grasped his hands, noticing the swollen knuckles … just like Zeke. Dear God! She met his dark eyes, and she knew what was to come.
“I could survive many more years in the wilderness,” he told her, “if not for the crippling disease. I do not want Sweet Bird and my children to see me die that way, and I do not want to leave them alone in a land where no one takes care of the Indians now that they have been displaced. Sweet Bird has no one left. I must do what I must do, so I brought her here to you.”
Abbie’s eyes teared anew, and she nodded. “Of course.”
He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I knew my mother would understand.” He squeezed her hands. “You are still beautiful, Mother. How do you do it?”
She smiled through her tears. “I only look beautiful because I am your mother and it’s been so many years since you’ve seen me.”
His own eyes were tear-filled. “I have missed you so much. I cou
ld not do what I must do without seeing you once more. And it has been many years since Jason was home. I went to him first. The agent there is a good man. He understands what I want to do, and he gave us a special pass, giving me a fake name so that I could get here without trouble. We took a train most of the way. When we came through Cheyenne”—he lost his smile—“I remembered why I had to leave, and why now it is time to end it all.”
Abbie closed her eyes. Here was reason to hope. Here were her grandchildren! She turned away, introducing herself, learning who each one was, hugging Louellen, overwhelmed at how much Jonathan had grown! “He was just a baby when I left the reservation!” she exclaimed. “Oh, I wanted so badly to come back again, but old age is beginning to take its toll, and I didn’t think I could handle such a long trip.” She turned to Sweet Bird as Wolf’s Blood introduced her and Little Eagle and Laughing Turtle. Abbie took great pleasure in seeing what a beautiful and very young woman Wolf’s Blood had won as a wife. She cast him a sly glance.
“You aren’t one in spirit with the wolves, my son. You are one in spirit with the sly fox, wooing and capturing this lovely creature.”
Wolf’s Blood grinned proudly, keeping an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Is she not the most beautiful Indian woman you have ever seen? She is Cree, and she speaks good English. She captured me. You might say she tricked me into marrying her.”
Eagle’s Song Page 31
