“My brother is not going to hang!” he growled at them.
Wolf’s Blood, still wearing his Indian garb, although it was now torn, and stained with dirt and blood, yanked his arms loose and stood facing his brother, holding his chin proudly in spite of what he’d suffered. He remained silent, keeping his eyes on Jeremy.
“You gonna stop this whole crowd with that gun?” one man shouted. “You might get one of us, mister, but some of us have guns. You kill one man here, and we’ll shoot you down—you, your nephew and your murderin’ savage brother!”
Jeremy kept the rifle steady. “I won’t have to shoot any of you.” He slowly aimed the rifle at Wolf’s Blood as he spoke.
The entire crowd calmed, staring in disbelief. Those near and behind Wolf’s Blood quickly moved away from him. Jeremy remained steady, tears running down his cheeks, mixing with the blood. Wolf’s Blood shook his hair behind his shoulders and raised one arm high, making a fist. He faced his brother squarely for several long, tense seconds. Then, strangely, he smiled. “Aim well, my brother. I have fought like a warrior this night. I will die like a warrior! It is a good time to die, and tonight, for once, you are Cheyenne! Our father thanks you!” He took a deep breath, then let out a fierce war cry. Fire spit from the end of the barrel of Jeremy’s rifle, and Hawk gasped when a hole opened in Wolf’s Blood’s chest. The man stumbled backward, his fist still in the air, and he stared at Jeremy a moment longer before finally collapsing.
For a moment there was only total silence.
“I’ll be damned!” someone in the crowd muttered then.
“He killed his own brother!” someone else exclaimed.
Hawk looked from his father to Jeremy, and to his horror, Jeremy was slowly turning the rifle upward, positioning the end of the barrel under his chin, his arms long enough so that he could get to the trigger with his right hand.
“No, Uncle Jeremy!” Hawk lunged at him, pushing the rifle away. He kicked at it until Jeremy had to let go. Hawk embraced him, holding his uncle’s arms tightly to his sides so Jeremy could not try to pick up the rifle again. “You did right!” Hawk reassured him. “He wanted you to do it!” He began to sob, keeping hold of his uncle, who had been as much a father to him these past years as Wolf’s Blood. “It’s all right, Uncle Jeremy.”
Hawk could feel him trembling then. Slowly Jeremy bent his arms to grasp hold of Hawk. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he wept.
“Don’t be. It had to be done. And you were right. I couldn’t have done it. He knew. He knew it would be you.”
Jeremy stood there weeping, while the crowd began to drift away. “So many years … I wanted to kill him … just because I hated him,” Jeremy sobbed. “I hated him because … he reminded me of what I was … Indian. I didn’t want to admit it. But all along … he was everything I … wanted to be deep down … but didn’t have the courage to be.” He slowly let go of Hawk. “But this … I didn’t do this … out of hate, Hawk. I did it out of love. You … believe that, don’t you? I couldn’t … let him die that way.”
“I know, Uncle Jeremy.” Hawk wiped at his own bloody tears. “Please don’t blame yourself. My father was probably more proud of you … just before you pulled that trigger … than he’s ever been. You’ve made up for it all, Uncle Jeremy. Don’t feel bad about it.”
Hawk kept an arm around his uncle as they both walked over to where Wolf’s Blood lay in the dusty street. They went to their knees beside him. Only a few men remained from the original crowd of vigilantes, and among them was a newspaper man, who was scribbling wildly, anxious to get this story out as fast as possible. A sobbing Hawk felt his father’s neck for a pulse. There was none. He quickly tore off his own shirt and laid it over his father’s face. “I promised him … I’d bury him in the mountains,” he told Jeremy. “Will you help me?”
Jeremy only nodded, putting a hand on Wolf’s Blood’s shoulder. “It’s like … the end of something, Hawk. I can’t even … find a word for it.”
Hawk grasped his father’s hand, still slightly warm, but already growing stiff. “Tseke-heto,” he groaned. “My father.” He could not control his sobbing then as he lay down beside the man and wept. Jeremy remained kneeling beside them, his agony buffered by a strange warmth and a feeling of freedom. He could swear he felt a strong hand on his shoulder, but when he turned to look, no one was there. It was then he heard the cry of an eagle somewhere in the distant hills, something that was seldom, if ever, heard after dark.
Twenty-nine
Sweet Bird came to the doorway of the old cabin. It had been left open because of the heat. “They are coming!”
Abbie turned from where she’d been cleaning some green beans to be canned. Since hearing about Wolf’s Blood’s death and how it had happened, she’d had to keep busy, so as not to think about it too much. She had worked hard in the garden, picking vegetables, then washing and cooking and canning them, even cleaning the cabin—anything she could think of—so that by night she would be so weary it would be possible to fall asleep. She studied Sweet Bird, noticed that in only these two weeks she had grown thinner. There were dark circles under her eyes.
“I should have spent more time with you,” she told her. “I’m sorry, Sweet Bird.”
Sweet Bird shook her head. “I understand. You had to stay here, where you can live in the past and not think about the present.”
Abbie set her paring knife aside and wiped her hands, coming closer to Sweet Bird. “You must be so lonely in a place so foreign to all you’ve ever known.” She took hold of Sweet Bird’s hands. “I know full well what it is like to be a stranger in a new land, Sweet Bird, surrounded by people you don’t even know. When I first married Wolf’s Blood’s father and was brought to live with the Cheyenne, Zeke had to leave for several weeks, and I was alone with them. Back then his brother, Swift Arrow, disapproved of me. It was not an easy time for me. I felt abandoned. You must feel the same way.”
Sweet Bird blinked back tears. “My husband did what he felt he must do. I knew even when I first went to him what would happen one day. I loved your son very much, Abbie. Sometimes I wonder what I will do without him, how I will go on; but at least I have the children.”
Abbie embraced her. “Thank you for loving him and giving him a few more years of happiness.”
“He was not so hard to love.” Sweet Bird pulled away, wondering when she would get over this grief. “I think perhaps he was much harder to put up with when he was younger.”
Abbie smiled. “Oh, yes. Even as a child he was difficult.”
Sweet Bird shivered with a sob. “I am so sorry for you. To lose a son—”
“Wolf’s Blood is where he wants to be now. He’s with his father, and I don’t suppose it will be so long before I join them. I belong to another time, Sweet Bird. My grandchildren, even some of my children, belong to this new way of life.”
She walked with Sweet Bird to the doorway to see the wagons coming, the children and grandchildren returning from Denver, this time not for a joyful reunion. Now the family would grieve together. Apparently they all wanted to be closer, for they were packed into only two of Ellen and Hal’s supply wagons. As they came nearer, Abbie and Sweet Bird walked out to greet them—Zeke and Georgeanne, who had apparently left their children at home; Iris and Raphael with their three sons; LeeAnn and Joshua with Lonnie and Abbie; Ellen and Hal with Lillian and Daniel; Hawk, Jeremy, Mary and Jason, who had left Louellen and the children at the ranch when he and the others followed Wolf’s Blood to Denver and to Cheyenne.
Margaret and Morgan were approaching from the main house with Louellen. Nathan and Susan also hurried toward the wagons, their children as well as Jason’s and Wolf’s Blood’s, all running or toddling behind, most of the little ones oblivious to what had happened, except for Little Eagle, who ran straight to Hawk, calling out his name and reaching up for him. Hawk jumped down and swept him up into his arms, walking away from the others to talk to the boy alone.
Abbie
felt torn, realizing all the children needed her right now, and certainly poor Hawk. But she suspected it was Jeremy who needed her most. They were all relieved he had not been held on any charges. After all, Wolf’s Blood had been sentenced to death. Jeremy Monroe had simply carried out the sentence.
She watched him closely. She knew from messages she’d received that he had gone into the mountains with Hawk to bury Wolf’s Blood. She also knew by the circles under his eyes and the drawn look to his face what he had been through. He seemed hesitant to look at her, even when she called out his name as she walked up to where he still sat on a wagon seat. Abbie glanced at Mary, who looked at her pleadingly, as though to ask her to help Jeremy.
Abbie reached out and grasped Mary’s hand. “He’ll be all right.” She looked at Jeremy again, noticing the remains of cuts and bruises on his face. Joshua had written that newspaper articles out of Cheyenne had mentioned that Hawk and Jeremy had been beaten by the mob. “Are you all right, Jeremy?”
He shrugged. “Just a few bruised ribs. My face did look a lot worse.”
“Please come down from there, son.”
He finally looked at her. “Do you know all of it?”
“Of course I know. You did what you had to do, Jeremy. I’m sure Hawk understands that.”
He sighed wearily and climbed down, glancing at Sweet Bird. “I’m so damn sorry.”
She faced him boldly. “You could not let him hang. You did the right thing.”
Jeremy looked back at his mother. His own absence and denial had been as hard on her as losing a child to death. “He just … stood there looking at me. He said it was a good time to die. He knew, Mother! He told me before we even left that he’d had a dream about me, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was. Later he told me I would know what to do. Now I realize what he meant.”
Abbie took hold of his hands. “Then you also know it was right.”
He took a deep breath, blinking back tears. “The fact remains I killed my own brother.”
She squeezed his hands. “And God himself put that gun in your hands!” she told him firmly. “Don’t you think of it any other way, Jeremy Monroe! God put the gun in your hands, and Zeke himself pulled the trigger. If Zeke were there and had no other choice, he’d have done the same thing. For once in your life you were fighting on their side, Jeremy, for your father, your brother, for the Cheyenne! You were Cheyenne in that moment! And there isn’t a member of this family who does not understand that!”
A tear slipped down his cheek. “It must have been terrible for you when you found out.”
Abbie reached up and touched his cheek. “My sorrow was more for you than Wolf’s Blood. Hawk wrote that you started to turn the gun on yourself.” She shook her head. “Jeremy, Jeremy. Don’t you know that it is an honorable thing you did? Don’t you understand that you should be proud, as I and the rest of the family are, of your courage? What a loving thing to do for Hawk. He could never have done it himself.”
Jeremy sniffed and swallowed. “Then … no one blames me?”
Abbie smiled through tears, seeing a little boy before her. “No one blames you.” She thought about the times he’d tried so hard to please his father, but just did not have it in him to be like Wolf’s Blood. “You have no idea how proud your father was of you. You completely misinterpreted how much he loved you, Jeremy.”
He let go of her and wiped at his eyes with his shirtsleeve. “I have to tell you … when I knelt down beside Wolf’s Blood, I felt …” He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. I looked up, and no one was there, but then I heard an eagle’s call.” He jerked in a sob. “It was him, Mother. I know it was Zeke.”
She embraced him. “Of course it was.”
They were then surrounded by the rest of the family, all expressing their love to Jeremy, hugging him, giving him their support. Hawk returned with Little Eagle, who was sniffling. He walked up to Sweet Bird, seeing the terrible sorrow in her eyes. “I decided to explain it to him my own way. I hope it’s all right.”
Their eyes held in mutual sorrow. “He is old enough to understand,” Sweet Bird said. “I had already told him, but he was waiting to hear it from you. He has been asking every day when you will come back. He was afraid something had also happened to you.”
Little Eagle continued to cling to Hawk, his arms around his neck. “Stay right there,” Hawk told Sweet Bird. “I want to walk with you.” He went over to his sister, and she embraced him and Little Eagle, crying.
“I should have been there with you,” Iris wept.
“He didn’t want it that way. Your place was with your family. He understood that. He wouldn’t have wanted you to see it.”
“I was scared for you, Hawk. I was afraid some man would shoot you and Uncle Jeremy, or maybe hang both of you.”
“Well, it didn’t happen.” He kissed her cheek. “Just thank God you have Raphael and your children. I have to go now. You know that, don’t you? I have to go to one of the reservations. Probably to the Dakotas.”
“I know.” She wiped at her eyes as she pulled away from him. “Father would want it. And they’re building more and more railroads. We can probably come and visit you fairly often, or you can come to Denver.”
“I will. I probably won’t go until spring. For now I’ll stay at the ranch a couple of weeks with Grandma Abbie. I’ll be taking Sweet Bird with me to the reservation. That’s what Father wanted me to do. Until then I think she should stay here, so Grandma can have some time with Little Eagle and Laughing Turtle before I take them north.”
The others began walking toward the big house, Margaret and Mary with their arms around Jeremy. Hawk kissed his sister again, then managed to pull Little Eagle away and set him on his feet. “You go with the others, and take care of your little sister,” he told the boy. “Your mother and I will be coming soon.”
Little Eagle sniffed and ran off to find Laughing Turtle. He took her hand and led her toward the house, as Hawk shook hands with Raphael. “I’m glad you could come, too, and be here for Iris.”
“Sí, amigo.” Raphael squeezed his hand. “I am sorry about your padre. I only knew him for a little while, but a man who has two such fine children as you and my Iris has to be a good man. I felt much honor for him.”
Raphael put a supportive arm around Iris and led her away. Hawk turned to his grandmother, who was waiting to give him a hug. He wrapped strong arms around her. “Are you okay, Grandma?”
“I’ll be fine. All of you underestimate my strength.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” He gave her a squeeze. “You knew, didn’t you?”
“I had no doubts, but I’m sorry it had to be Jeremy.” Her voice broke on the words. “I thought perhaps … it would be one of the authorities.”
Tears threatened to come again, and Hawk wondered if the hurt would ever go away. “I’ll never forget it. It gave me more determination to help all of them, Grandma.”
She nodded, pulling away but keeping her hands on his shoulders as she forced a smile. “And you will. I have no doubt you will do much for the Indian cause.” She noticed that he, too, had lingering bruises on his face. “I’m sorry you were hurt. Are you all right?”
He nodded. “You should have seen Father fight them, in spite of his age and condition.” He let go of her. “And Jeremy! I never knew my very civilized uncle could be such a scrapper!”
Abbie wiped at her tears. “All my children were scrappers, in one way or another.”
“And so were you, I’ll bet! You still are.”
Abbie shook her head, smiling sadly. “Oh, my wonderful, handsome grandson. You look so much like your father and grandfather. And you are such a joy to me. I am glad you were with your father through it all. He was one of the last of a special breed. You will show the Indians a new way now.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’ll try, Grandma.” He glanced at Sweet Bird and back to his grandmother. “I want to talk to Sweet Bird alone.”
“Of course.” Abbie leaned up and kissed his cheek. “I’m glad she’ll have you to talk to, to watch over her. She can stay here as long as necessary, until you know what you’re going to do.”
She turned to Zeke and Georgeanne, who were waiting to walk with her to the main house; and to break the sorrow of the moment, Zeke picked his grandmother up in his arms, exclaiming that she was shrinking and that he would carry her to the house. Abbie protested, saying she was perfectly capable of walking, but Zeke would have none of it. “You’re as light as a kid,” he told her.
Georgeanne laughed and walked with them, and Hawk turned to Sweet Bird. He put out his hand and she took it, letting him lead her away.
Abbie looked over young Zeke’s shoulder to see her grandson and Sweet Bird heading toward the creek along which she and Hawk’s grandfather Zeke used to sit and talk, in the place where purple irises bloomed most of the summer.
“My grandmother likes this place,” Hawk told Sweet Bird. He led her to the creek, nearly dried up now from the summer heat and drought. Still, a few irises bloomed on both sides of the bank.
“I know. I walked here with her after you left with Wolf’s Blood.” Sweet Bird sat down in some thick but yellowed grass. “She told me many stories.”
Hawk sat down beside her. “Grandma always says all her children and grandchildren get their strength from Grandpa Zeke; but we all know where it really comes from. It’s from her. Aunt Margaret told me once that even Grandpa Zeke seemed to get his strength from her. He was stronger in a physical way, but she was stronger emotionally. Margaret says it was best that Grandpa Zeke died first, because she doesn’t think he could have gone on without her.” He leaned down to rest on one elbow, meeting Sweet Bird’s gaze. “It would have been that way for my father. You’re young, Sweet Bird, and you have Little Eagle and Laughing Turtle. You’ll be all right, and we’ll all help you. We both know what my father wanted, but this is a time for mourning; your heart is heavy, as is mine. We’ll let time take care of the pain, and we’ll let our hearts do the deciding. I only brought you here to assure you that I’ll look after you as father wanted, and I’ll be here for his children. They will never want for anything.”
Eagle’s Song Page 37
