Climb the Highest Mountain

by Rosanne Bittner

  Wolf’s Blood pulled away then and nodded. “I will come back.” He put on a smile and fought an urge to cry. “Mother said you wanted me to take two horses to Swift Arrow.”

  Zeke nodded. “Let me get a shirt on and a jacket. We’ll go pick them out.” He went back into the bedroom and Abbie got busy with breakfast as the rest of the children began to sleepily descend from the loft. From then on everything was rush and bedlam—breakfast and packing and tears and good-byes. Margaret cried the most. She was the closest to her brother and had always looked to him for protection whenever Zeke was gone. She and Wolf’s Blood had the keenest memories of their early life among the Cheyenne, before Zeke and Abbie were settled on the ranch, when the Cheyenne had roamed freely, when life was happier, and when they sometimes went with the Cheyenne on the summer hunts. That was over now. There had been the Laramie Treaty of 1851, then the Treaty of Fort Wise in 1861. Each had given the Cheyenne less and less room to move around. Now a treaty that would take them out of Colorado altogether was in the making, and Sand Creek had shown them what would happen to those who did not obey. But there were a few, like Wolf’s Blood, who would hang on to the bitter end.

  Too soon, Wolf’s Blood was standing beside his mount. Again he went around the circle of his family, beginning with his Uncle Lance and then the smallest child, Jason. He embraced Margaret longer than the others, telling her to be a proud Cheyenne. Then came the hardest part, saying good-bye one last time to his mother and father. He hugged Abbie for a long time, having to practically force her to let go of him finally. His father he did not embrace. It would be too difficult. They grasped hands and said everything with their eyes, unable to speak. Wolf’s Blood turned then and mounted his horse with ease, taking two ropes in hand to lead the extra horses. Wolf had been prancing nervously in circles. He sensed a new adventure coming and was happy to be off, running across the land with his master. This would be much better than sitting inside a house. This was freedom, excitement!

  Wolf’s Blood scanned the whole brood with tear-filled eyes. “I love you all,” he told them. Then he looked at his father and mother. “Not a night will go by that you are not in my thoughts and prayers. Both of you have taught me strength and independence. If I can be nearly as wise, as strong, and as skilled as you, I shall be satisfied. Perhaps one day I can learn to love in the way that you love one another. If I do, I will be a lucky man.” He held his father’s eyes. “Nemehotatse.”

  “Nemehotatse, Nahahan,” Zeke replied. He crossed his arms in front of him, his right wrist across his heart, his left wrist atop the right wrist. He pushed against his chest, giving the Cheyenne hand sign for love.

  Wolf’s Blood turned his horse then. “Hai! Hai!” he shouted, kicking the animal’s sides and taking off at a gallop. If it was to be done, it must be done quickly.

  Zeke stepped away from the others, watching the boy slowly disappear over a distant hill. A soft morning wind blew his long black hair about his face and shoulders. When he’d been young and free and wild, he had ridden with the Cheyenne, raided enemy camps, gone on the buffalo hunts, and shared warm tipi fires in the winters. Now his Cheyenne mother and stepfather were dead, as were two of his Cheyenne brothers. Perhaps some day the entire race would be gone. If Wolf’s Blood could ride relatively free for the few years left to the Indian, then he would let the boy go. He heard a war whoop in the distance and grinned, but his jaw quickly flexed in buried sorrow. Abbie watched him, this man who was as elusive as the wind at times, whose son was just the same. She stepped closer and he turned and embraced her.

  “Let’s walk for a while, Abbie girl,” he told her softly.

  Several days later the letter came from Bonnie Lewis. “Dan is back at Fort Laramie!” Abbie told Zeke as she scanned the letter. “He’s doing all right, and Bonnie is there teaching again.” She read further and her face clouded. “Bonnie’s husband was killed by Indians, Zeke, while she was back East. That’s terrible! Poor Bonnie!”

  She was standing outside beside her husband, who had been cutting wood while she read the letter. Zeke slammed an ax into a log and came to stand beside her. “Rodney Lewis is dead?”

  She looked up at him. Both of them knew Bonnie Lewis had secretly loved Zeke for years, ever since he’d rescued her from outlaws who dealt in the buying and selling of white women. Zeke had risked his life to save Bonnie; then he had returned her to her missionary father in Santa Fe. In doing so, he had made an impression on Bonnie Lewis that she had never forgotten. She had never known a man like Zeke Monroe in her sheltered, timid life, and his brawny power and brave skills had overwhelmed her. But there had been nothing between them; Zeke Monroe already had been married to Abbie. It was a one-sided love that could not be requited, and Bonnie Lewis had gone on to marry her preacher husband, a marriage planned for years. She found some consolation later when Zeke and Abbie brought their crippled nephew to her and asked if she would care for the boy.

  “Joshua is doing well,” Abbie went on, returning to the letter. She sighed deeply. “I’m glad now that she has the boy, Zeke. She would be so lonely without him.” Her eyes sought his and they shared a look of understanding.

  “I’m glad, too,” Zeke told her. “It’s too bad about her husband. I don’t think they had much of a marriage, but he was a dedicated man who stuck to his beliefs. Apparently he died for them. I just hope Bonnie stays close to the fort. These are bad times, Abbie. You have to be careful too. Some of the Cheyenne you once called friend may not consider you a friend any longer. I hate to say it, but the anger and hatred is so deep that you shouldn’t be too ready to trust the younger ones who don’t know you.”

  She closed her eyes and nodded. “It breaks my heart to think of it, but you’re probably right.” She scanned the letter again. “Oh, Zeke, Emily is in St. Louis again and won’t come west. Poor Dan. I thought they had straightened all that out.”

  Zeke’s face darkened. “I ought to go to St. Louis and kick her ass all the way to Fort Laramie!” he mumbled, going back to retrieve his ax. “I risked my life and you went through hell while I was off in that damned war, just to find Dan … and why? Because she came sobbing to us about how much she loved him and how worried she was about him. Then she pulls that trick again, staying in St. Louis. She’s spoiled!”

  “Zeke, don’t talk that way about your brother’s wife. Besides, once you knew about Dan you’d have gone to find him without Emily asking you to do so.”

  He chopped at more wood. “Well, the fact remains I wouldn’t have known about it if she hadn’t come crying to us. I don’t know how she can treat Dan that way. He’s a good man, a dedicated husband and soldier, and he’s crazy about her. Why, I’ll never know, but he is. It’s mean of her to stay in St. Louis. He needs her now more than ever.” He chopped angrily then, slicing off a piece of fresh cottonwood. “If I were Dan I’d go to St. Louis and drag her back by the hair of the head!”

  He slammed the ax down again, and Abbie watched with a smile on her face and a pleasant stirring deep inside. “You would, would you?”

  He stopped and looked over at her, then flashed his handsome grin. “I would.” His eyes moved over her body that was shrouded by a heavy animal-skin jacket. “No woman of mine would get away with that. Fact is, I’d never have married such a creature in the first place. Trouble is, I got a woman that’s almost more than I can handle. You go killing any more big bucks and you’ll make me look bad.”

  She laughed lightly and watched the ax come down hard, noted the strength of the powerful arms that held it. “That will be the day, my husband.” She returned to the letter. “Bonnie and Dan want us to write back. They heard about Sand Creek and are worried about us. I’ll go start a letter right now and you can ride with Jeremy to Fort Lyon and find someone to take it north.”

  “Be sure to tell them about Wolf’s Blood. Tell Dan to see what he can find out about the boy, whether he got there all right and all. Tell him to have his scouts keep an eye out and give Dan wo
rd whenever they see Wolf’s Blood so he can let us know how the boy is.”

  Abbie’s smile faded and their eyes held. “I’ll tell him.”

  He nodded and frowned. “You know, it’s too bad Dan is married to that slip of a woman. If he were free, he’d be smart to go after Bonnie. She’ll be needing a husband now. They’d be good together. If that brother of mine had had any sense, he’d have married a woman like her in the first place.”

  Her eyebrows arched in mock jealousy. “Oh? Well at the moment I am glad that she is up there and we are down here.”

  Zeke smiled at her and winked. “Abbie girl, even a woman like Bonnie can’t hold a candle to you.” He grew more serious then. “That’s too bad, though, about Rodney Lewis. I’d better check things out at Fort Lyon when I go, see what I can find out about the Sioux. Things might be worse up north than we thought, and with Wolf’s Blood up there, we’d best try to keep informed on what is happening. I know Red Cloud is really on the warpath to keep the miners and settlers out of the Powder River country.”

  Abbie folded the letter. “Remember the time we rode north for the Laramie Treaty, Zeke? That seems like a hundred years ago.”

  He nodded. “If the damned government would have stuck to the original treaty, there might not be so much trouble now,” he answered. “Word is the Cheyenne are forming a strong alliance north and south now, Abbie. Perhaps Wolf’s Blood should have stayed here if he wanted some action, although maybe it’s good for him to be in new surroundings. The Dog Soldiers are gaining firm control and the warriors are well disciplined. Leaders like Tall Bull and White Horse are organizing. There’ll be a lot of raiding and senseless killing, Abbie, all because the white man doesn’t know how to keep his word. I expect Dan will have his work cut out for him up in the Dakotas and Montana. And we’ll have to keep a sharp lookout around here. We aren’t necessarily safe from the Cheyenne anymore, at least not if I’m not around. But I don’t worry about them as much as I worry about raiding Apaches and Comanches. They seem to be spreading out of their own territory. Seems like every Indian tribe east of the Mississippi is on the warpath lately, Abbie girl. They’re desperate and hungry and scared. I know you’re used to trusting the Cheyenne, but I want you to be more careful; and I don’t want the children riding anyplace alone.”

  She put the letter in her jacket pocket. Her heart felt heavy. It didn’t seem right that she should have to worry about the Cheyenne, but past cruelties and broken promises and rotgut whiskey were all working to bring a change to the once-beautiful People of the Plains. She turned to go inside when a rider appeared in the distance. “Someone is coming,” she told Zeke.

  Zeke planted the ax into another log and watched, walking to his rifle. It was apparently a lone man, and as he rode closer on a fine black horse a woolen cape attached to the shoulders of his finely cut overcoat flopped with the horse’s stride.

  Abbie was upset to see that it was Sir Tynes. She had hoped he would not come around again. The man disturbed her, for she didn’t want Zeke to be upset by anything. He had enough to worry about without a wealthy Englishman living so near them and reminding them of how settled Colorado had become. As the man rode up to the woodpile, Abbie saw Zeke go rigid with repressed anger.

  “Mister Monroe, you’re back!” Tynes exclaimed, dismounting and putting out his hand. “I do hope your son is all right. I heard about Sand Creek and I wanted to express my sorrow and to find out if your son and you were all right.”

  Zeke took the hand reluctantly, seeing sincerity in the man’s eyes. “We’re all right. My son was badly wounded and a girl he loved was killed. I also had a Cheyenne brother who was killed, along with his family.”

  Tynes’s face darkened. “How terrible!” He looked over at Abbie, genuine concern on his face, mixed with what Zeke interpreted as affection. “How terrible for both of you. I’m sincerely sorry.” He looked back up at Zeke, still clasping the man’s hand. “Perhaps I have come at a bad time then. Is your son recovered? I should like to meet him.”

  “He’s recovered,” Zeke answered, letting go of the man’s hand. “He’s gone north to make war alongside Red Cloud and the Sioux. I have a Cheyenne brother up there who lives among the Sioux. I’m afraid after what my son saw at Sand Creek, his heart is very confused and bitter. He’s gone away to find his revenge, and perhaps to find himself.”

  Sir Tynes scanned Zeke. The man looked even larger in his heavy deerskin coat. “I’ve been in touch with Pueblo and Julesberg, Mister Monroe. The Indians, mostly Cheyenne, are making some bad raids. There are even rumors that up to a thousand warriors are headed for Julesberg to wipe out the town, but no one has been able to spot the marauders.”

  Zeke just grinned. “Good. I hope they’re successful. If it weren’t for my wife and family I’d be with them.” He picked up his ax and sobered. “Whatever you heard about Sand Creek, Tynes, I’m sure the story was distorted if it came from whites, especially from the governor’s office in Denver. I was there. I saw the slaughtered bodies of women and little babies and old people, ears cut off, fingers cut off, privates cut off, heads bashed in beyond recognition. I buried my brother and his wife and their little son. It was no battle, Sir Tynes. It was a deliberate, unnecessary slaughter of a band of peaceful Indians. I don’t give a damn what the Cheyenne do in retaliation. More power to them.”

  Tynes eyed him coolly as he chopped more wood. Then the man looked over at Abbie. “How was that venison, Mrs. Monroe? Tasty, I’ll bet.” He was referring to the deer she had shot the day he’d visited.

  “Very good. There is a lot left, smoked and cured. Just last night we—”

  “What’s your business here, Tynes,” Zeke interrupted, disturbed by the way the Englishman looked at his Abbie. “I’m a busy man.”

  Abbie was tempted to scold her husband for his rudeness, but there were times when it was best not to interfere in Zeke Monroe’s actions.

  “Well, I… I was just being neighborly. I thought you might like to know what I had learned about the Cheyenne … and I wanted to find out about your son. The last time I was here your wife was quite worried, and—”

  “The last time you were here I was gone.”

  Their eyes held. “Yes. Well, I didn’t know that until I got here.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  Sir Tynes’s face reddened slightly. “I assure you I did not. If you think I am spying on you and yours, Mister Monroe, you are gravely mistaken. I am here to be neighborly and to look at your horses, and to tell you that if you have any problems because of all this raiding I will be glad to help out. The house I am building is made of stone and will be a virtual fortress. You are obviously a man of great skills and one who has good rapport with the Indians, so you may not need any help. But if you do, my doors are open. You must stop judging all wealthy men by the same standards, Mister Monroe. I judge men by their worth as people, not by their means or race, and I am sure you judge men no less fairly. So please judge me as a lonely neighbor who wishes to be a friend and who admires your magnificent horses. Don’t turn me out just because I happen to have money.”

  “It isn’t the fact that you have money, Tynes,” Zeke replied, removing his gloves and throwing them down. “It’s the fact that you’re here at all. I’m sorry, but Sand Creek is still fresh in my mind; and it’s people like you who, one by one, are killing off my People.”

  The man nodded. “You are probably right. But you are not a fool, Mister Monroe, and you know as well as I that the West will be settled, whether it be gently or ruthlessly. Either way it will happen. I am in total agreement that it is a sad and unfair situation for the Indians, but whether I stay or leave will make no difference to what will ultimately happen. It’s been inevitable since the Pilgrims first landed on the Eastern shores. I don’t say that without feeling, Mister Monroe. I do sympathize with your people. In fact, I am writing a book about them, about the American West and all the excitement out here. And I plan to do great justice to the red ma
n in my writing and to tell both sides. I would be very honored if you would tell me what you saw at Sand Creek so I can add it to my notes. There is quite an investigation going on in Denver, you know, from the governor down to the volunteers who participated in the raid.”

  Zeke stared at the rapidly talking Englishman. He wondered if the man had any idea what hardships in this land were all about. “A book?” he asked, grinning. He snickered then, the sound building to full laughter. “A book!” He looked at Abbie, who didn’t know whether to laugh with him or be angry with him. Sir Tynes drank in her beauty as she stepped closer. He had hoped his desire for her was done, but now that he saw her again it was reawakened.

  “Zeke, if Sir Tynes wants to try writing a book about this land, I think we should answer his questions and talk to him. At least maybe the truth will be told. What harm can that do?”

  Sir Tynes smiled and bowed. “Thank you, dear lady.”

  Zeke put a casual arm around his wife and pulled her close. “Tynes, I don’t have you completely figured out yet, except that you’re amusing if nothing else. I’ll answer your questions, and you’d better tell it straight if you ever get anything in print.”

  Tynes removed his hat and bowed again. “You have my word. Now, may I see your horses? I need some good sturdy ones for keeping my cattle together. Oh, and if any of my cattle should stray onto your property, just shoo them back over, or corral them and hold them until one of my men comes round looking for them. I’ll pay you for your trouble if that should happen.”

  Zeke shook his head. “No need. But if you run across any of my animals on your place, I’d appreciate the same favor. Come on over to the stables and I’ll show you some of my better stock. They haven’t been turned out yet.” He’d started walking, one arm around Abbie, when they heard a gunshot. Sir Tynes was amazed at how quickly Zeke turned and whisked up his rifle, running in the direction of the shot. A young boy came running from a clump of thick cottonwoods down near the river, holding a rifle in one hand and a small animal in the other.