Ride the Free Wind

by Rosanne Bittner

  “But sir, I don’t know anything about Indians!” Danny spoke up quickly. “I just have a half-breed brother, that’s all. I’ve never even been west till now!”

  The colonel held out his hand to quiet him. “I understand all that. But you’re good Army material, Monroe, and since you have an interest in the Indians because of this brother, you’ll have more reason to learn about them and want to understand and work with them. If you ever find this brother, he could be a good connection in helping you understand. The time is coming, Monroe, when such understanding will be very important. I just want you to think about it … think about a career in the Western Army, son … and especially a career in working with the Indians. And since I suspect it is very important to you to find this brother of yours, I am ordering you to report to Fort Laramie after you recover in Santa Fe. I’ll give you orders to take along, and someone will see that a letter is sent to higher authorities recommending you for the medal and the promotion. It shouldn’t take too long for you to begin calling yourself first sergeant. Once you’re stationed at Fort Laramie, it shouldn’t be too difficult to find this brother of yours. Scouts go in and out of Fort Laramie all the time. It’s in the heart of Cheyenne country. There is bound to be someone around the area who knows about Zeke and where he might be.”

  Danny studied the man in near worship. He could hardly believe what the colonel was telling him, or that so many good things could be happening to him. What better way to find Zeke than to be an officer in the Western Army and to ride the very lands that Zeke was likely riding!

  “I don’t know what to say, sir, I’m … deeply grateful.”

  “The look on your face is thanks enough,” the colonel replied. “Just hurry up and get well and get yourself to Fort Laramie.”

  Danny grinned. “Yes, sir!”

  The lieutenant stepped forward, his hat in his hand. “Thank you, again,” he told Danny. “What else can a man say?”

  “It’s okay, sir,” Danny told him. “If it earned me a promotion … and a chance to serve at Fort Laramie and maybe find my brother … it was worth it.”

  They both grinned, but the lieutenant was obviously close to tears in his gratitude. “Far as I’m concerned, the Good Lord set you next to me, Private Monroe,” the lieutenant told him. “I doubt there’s another man out there who would have done what you did. They’d all have ducked to save their own necks.” He put a hand on Danny’s uninjured shoulder. “Thanks again. And good luck in your own Army career.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The lieutenant and Colonel Kearny left, and Danny closed his eyes. He would rest better now, in spite of his pain.

  Zeke and his three brothers sat inside Zeke and Abbie’s tipi, smoking fine thin cigars. They were gathered around the fire to ward off the chilly night air of the mountains. Abbie sat behind Zeke, picking sandburs from a pair of his leggings.

  “This Jonathan Mack smoked fine cigar,” Swift Arrow said with a wicked grin. “I only wish I could have seen his face when he reached into the sack, huh?”

  The four of them chuckled, and Abbie smiled herself at the thought of it.

  “You aren’t the only one, my brother,” Zeke answered. “But I thought it wise not to be close by.” His face darkened. “The death I truly should have stayed to watch was Dancing Moon’s.”

  “Mmm,” Swift Arrow replied, puffing his fine cigar. “It is fine ending for that one, with your letter carved into her face. You had good idea there, Zeke. Good idea.”

  Zeke sighed. “I just hope she is dead,” he told his brother. “Evil seems to have a way of surviving to go on to commit more evil.”

  “Ai,” Red Eagle agreed. But Swift Arrow waved him off.

  “She is dead!” he declared. “And good riddance to her!”

  Abbie shuddered at the thought of what Zeke had done to Dancing Moon, finding it difficult to visualize Zeke harming a woman. Yet she could feel no remorse for the Arapaho who had tried to murder her and had caused her to lose Zeke’s baby.

  “It is good your woman dreamed of the snakes,” Swift Arrow was telling Zeke. “She is full of the spirits now … one with them. The vision shows she has the all-seeing heart of the Cheyenne … and because of her dream, we all prayed for you.”

  Zeke nodded. “I felt a special power and greater courage that night, Swift Arrow. It must have been the same night Abbie had the dream. You all prayed to the spirits, and they helped me.”

  “Ai,” Black Elk put in. “She is good, this woman you marry.”

  Zeke grinned and reached back to pat Abbie’s leg. “I told you she was,” he replied to his youngest brother. He gave Abbie a wink and she blushed.

  Talk turned to the small hunt and the predictions of a long, cold winter. Abbie knew Zeke was concerned that they would not get back to the Arkansas River in time to build her the cabin before winter set in, but she was not worried. She had talked Zeke into forgetting the idea until the next year, for she wanted to spend one winter with the People. She had argued and insisted until Zeke had given in; but she knew he would buy an extra supply of warm clothing and blankets at Bent’s Fort, and he would do everything he could to make their tipi extra warm. Already, Abbie was working on sewing more skins for an extra layer around the tipi and was making moccasins from the thickest fur of the buffalo hide. The furry side would be turned inward for extra warmth. But that was for the waking hours. She knew that with Zeke beside her at night, she would not have to worry about being warm then, even if the fire dwindled before dawn. Indeed, she felt warm just thinking about it, for their lovemaking had been more heated and passionate than ever since his return.

  “There is still much talk among our northern brothers of a great treaty,” Swift Arrow was telling Zeke. “They say Fitzpatrick is still trying to make this happen.”

  “There’s a lot of talk, Swift Arrow,” Zeke replied, puffing his cigar. “But among the white men, there are always rumors. You should never believe what they say until you see the proof. Take my word for it.”

  Red Eagle took a flask of whiskey from beneath his blanket and swallowed some. Zeke scowled at him.

  “Where do you get that stuff?” he asked his brother.

  Red Eagle grinned. “Traders. They come around,” he replied. “Other warriors buy it, too.”

  “And you’re a fool!” Zeke snapped. “It’s rotgut whiskey, full of water and sugar! Those lowdown traders are robbing you!”

  Red Eagle’s smile faded, and his eyes flashed with anger. “I am a man and make my own decisions! And I know how to control it now. I do not hurt Yellow Moon, and I know when to stop.” He rose, his temper quick to flare when he drank the firewater. The friendly nature of their talk only a moment before had vanished. Red Eagle walked to the tipi entrance, then looked back at Zeke. “If you choose to be angry at a brother, then be angry at Swift Arrow—for beating your wife!” he sneered.

  Abbie froze at the words, and Swift Arrow jumped up, glaring at his brother and clenching his fists. “Traitor!” he growled at Red Eagle. Red Eagle just grinned and walked out.

  “Katum!” Black Elk swore. “Now there will be trouble.”

  Zeke got up from where he sat and turned confused and angry eyes to Abbie. “What is he talking about?” he asked in a threatening voice.

  Abbie looked at Swift Arrow, and there was a long moment of silence while their eyes held. She looked back at Zeke. “I… promised I wouldn’t tell,” she told him. “I do not break promises. It’s a private matter—between myself and Swift Arrow.”

  “Private!” Zeke roared. Abbie jumped and paled. She had never seen him quite so angry. “There is nothing private about another man hurting my wife! Brother or not! Now someone had better tell me what’s going on!”

  Abbie swallowed and nervously put down the leggings, getting to her feet.

  “She looked upon the Sacred Arrows!” Swift Arrow replied, straightening himself and holding his head proudly. “I had no choice!”

  Zeke whirle
d to face him, and Abbie could see Zeke’s jaw muscles flexing in anger. She walked over to plant herself between the two men, facing Zeke.

  “He had no choice, Zeke. I did something that was forbidden. I deliberately disobeyed instructions and sneaked over to the Arrow Keeper’s lodge and looked at the Sacred Arrows after the Arrow Renewal. The Arrow Keeper caught me.”

  Zeke glared down at her. “Why in God’s name did you do that?”

  Her eyes began to fill with tears, for she did not like him to be so angry at her. “I … don’t know. I just knew I had to do it. Something made me do it. I … I knew that if I looked at them, somehow I’d understand the People better. I’d understand you better. I … I can’t explain it, Zeke!”

  Zeke’s eyes turned back to Swift Arrow. He gently pushed Abbie out of the way. “And you beat her for this?” he asked. “You couldn’t wait for me to get back, even though you knew she was ignorant of how serious her error was?”

  Swift Arrow did not flinch. “I had no choice!” he replied flatly. “The other dog soldiers and the Arrow Keeper were outside the tipi. If I had not quickly punished her, they would have done it, my brother! Do you not see? They would not have been as kind to her! It was for her own protection that I did it … to quiet their anger. You know how sacred the arrows are … what happens to a woman who looks upon them! Would you rather I had turned her over to them? I would have waited for you, but they would not have waited!”

  “Zeke, it was only five lashes, and he didn’t hit me as hard as he could have. He … he put bear grease on the cuts right away, and I don’t even have any scars!”

  Zeke turned to her, his eyes full of hurt for her and anger at Swift Arrow. “No scars!” he groaned. “My God, Abbie! You were alone among them. You must have been—” He stopped and turned away from both of them, letting out a strange groan of frustration. “I can hardly believe you waited for me after that. What a terrible thing for you!”

  “Zeke, I wanted the punishment!” Abbie told him. “I deserved it! And he tried not to hurt me any more than he had to! Please don’t be angry, Zeke. It’s just as he said. He had no choice. Swift Arrow took good care of me. And don’t forget that he saved me from those awful white men who wanted to take me away. He risked his life for me that day, Zeke! If he had not, I might … I might have been dragged off by those men, and God knows what they would have done with me!”

  He closed his eyes and sighed.

  “She tells truth,” Black Elk put in. “Other warriors very angry when she look at the arrows. Would have hurt her more than Swift Arrow hurt her. He do right thing, my brother. And those white men, they were bad—very bad. Swift Arrow would not let them take her, even though one put his gun against Swift Arrow’s throat.”

  “I … have since asked for her forgiveness,” Swift Arrow put in, his voice weak. “When she saved little Magpie, all of us knew then why the spirits had made her look upon the arrows. It was for the strength and courage she would need to go into the deep waters and brave the evil spirits in order to save Magpie. Then we knew. All of us asked her forgiveness, my brother, and gave her some of our prized weapons and possessions.”

  Zeke nodded, his back still turned. “So … there is more to the story of the drowning than you told me,” he said to Abbie.

  “Ai,” Swift Arrow replied for her. “But I tell you this, my brother. Abigail is my sister now. She is true Cheyenne, and I… care for her. To hurt her brought me pain, and I would not have done it if I had a choice. But I had no choice. It was the only way to keep her from greater harm.”

  “That stupid Red Eagle!” Black Elk grumbled. “I should break his whiskey bottle over his head!” He got up and stormed out. Swift Arrow looked helplessly at Abbie.

  “I never would have told him, Swift Arrow,” she said quietly.

  He nodded. “This I know. But perhaps it is better he knows.”

  Abbie turned to Zeke, wanting desperately to soothe his anger. “Zeke, if I can forgive Swift Arrow, surely you can. He’s your brother. He kept his promise to you to watch out for me—risked his life for me because of that promise. He has taught me many things. He’s helped me understand the People. Don’t make me feel responsible for bad feelings between you and your Cheyenne brother. Please, Zeke. Don’t do this!”

  Zeke finally turned to face Swift Arrow, some anger still in his eyes.

  “If you had been here, my brother, you would have had to do the same,” Swift Arrow told him. “It would have been your duty to still the anger of the other warriors. You are Cheyenne. You know the law.”

  Zeke nodded. “I know the law,” he replied wearily. “I just don’t know whether to thank you or split your gizzard!”

  “Zeke!” Abbie gasped.

  The two men studied one another. “Then I tell you this, my brother,” Swift Arrow replied, his eyes true and steady. “If this thing I did brings hatred to your heart for Swift Arrow, then Swift Arrow will stand still while you split his gizzard. For he would rather die than to bring unnecessary harm to Lone Eagle’s woman. What I did was for her own protection.”

  The words were said with such sincerity, Zeke could not help but feel forgiveness in his heart. Swift Arrow had meant every word he’d spoken, and he would have stood there and let Zeke cut away at him without protest if Zeke so chose. Zeke reached out and put a hand on Swift Arrow’s shoulder.

  “Then let us smoke a peace pipe, Swift Arrow,” he told his brother. “And we will never speak of this again.”

  Swift Arrow nodded, pride and love showing in his eyes. “Ai. It is good we do not speak of it again. We will smoke the pipe and erase all memory of this night.”

  Abbie looked down, wiping tears away. “I’ll put more wood on the fire,” she said quietly. “You should both have something to eat.”

  Zeke and Swift Arrow’s eyes held steadily, as Zeke slowly removed his hand from Swift Arrow’s shoulder.

  “She is no longer white woman,” Swift Arrow said quietly. “She is Cheyenne!”

  Zeke’s heart ached with pride. He nodded. “I reckon she is at that,” he replied.

  Sixteen

  It was the Moon of Strong Cold, January, 1847. Zeke and Abbie shared Tall Grass Woman’s tipi, to which they had been invited by Falling Rock for supper. Tall Grass Woman and her husband still felt indebted to Abbie for saving Magpie, and Zeke and Abbie were often their guests. Each time they were told they must bring no gifts in return, for the life of Magpie was gift enough.

  Now they all sat in a circle, bundled in buffalo robes, for this night was exceptionally cold. Extra clothing was usually not necessary inside the tipis when a good fire was going, but this night the fire could not keep up with the bitter January subzero temperatures.

  The meal was finished, and Tall Grass Woman, her husband, and children sat listening in fascination as Zeke played his mandolin and sang Tennessee mountain songs.

  “‘Love, oh love, oh careless love, Just look what careless love has done,’” he sang in the mellow voice Abbie cherished. He winked at her as he sang, and Abbie blushed. Little Magpie and her brother, Wolf’s Paw, seemed spellbound by the songs, for white men’s tunes were much different from the Indian songs. They stared with big, brown eyes from beneath the robe they shared, and their round, perfect faces were framed by jet-black hair. They sat quiet and obedient, aware they must not speak unless spoken to.

  Abbie rubbed at her full stomach. According to Cheyenne custom, guests must never turn away any food offered by the host, and Falling Rock had offered Abbie more than she could handle. Zeke had helped her out by sneaking some of the meat off her plate when Tall Grass Woman and Falling Rock were not watching; but the children caught him at it once and began to giggle. Zeke winked at them and then gave them a warning look not to tell, and they just giggled more. Abbie herself had trouble not laughing; and now, as Zeke sang his songs, the children cast her sidelong, knowing glances and covered their mouths to keep from making any noise. Once, when they could not subdue another giggl
e, Falling Rock gave them a dark scowl, and they immediately stopped, not out of fear, but simply out of respect for their father.

  It occurred to Abbie then that she had never once seen a Cheyenne father or mother strike a child, nor had she ever heard Cheyenne parents raise their voices. All teaching was done gently, patiently, and with a soft voice. Much of it was done by the elders and by relatives. Everyone seemed willingly to share in the upbringing of the children, and when a child misbehaved, the looks of disappointment and disgust on the faces of parents and elders were usually all it took to bring that child so much embarrassment and shame that he or she never misbehaved in that way again. Only the adults, who should know better, were chastised for wrongdoings.

  “Wagh!” Falling Rock told Zeke when he finished another song. “Ha, ho, Nis’is.”

  Zeke nodded.

  “Ha ho,” the little children said in unison. They looked at their mother with pleading eyes, and Tall Grass Woman smiled and nodded.

  “They want you to tell them a story,” she told Zeke in the Cheyenne tongue. “Earlier, they say no one tell story like Lone Eagle.”

  Zeke grinned and looked over at Abbie. “They want me to tell them a story,” he told her. “You listen close and see how much of it you can understand, Abbie girl. It will be a good test of how much Cheyenne you’ve learned.”

  Abbie smiled and scooted closer to him, pulling her buffalo robe closer around her neck. Zeke set aside his mandolin and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the knees of his crossed legs. His shoulders seemed broader than ever in the big, shaggy buffalo coat he wore, and as he took on a somber attitude for his story, he suddenly seemed large and dark and menacing. He leaned closer to the fire and waved a hand across it, blowing smoke toward the children.

  “Do you know about the Screaming Moon Monsters?” he asked them in a near whisper.

  Their eyes widened. They looked at one another and then back at Zeke. Both shook their heads “no” but did not speak.