“Don’t go out there,” came Zeke’s voice. He kept a tight grip on her arms. “Your pa is … dead, Abigail. He shot himself.”
An awful pain grabbed at her stomach, and she wanted to scream that he was lying, but she knew he wasn’t. Suddenly her breathing came so hard she thought she might suffocate. LeeAnn let out a strange whimper, and Quentin Robards was immediately at her side.
Abbie could think only of running—somewhere … anywhere! She tugged at Zeke’s grip, almost getting away in her maniacal sorrow, but he grabbed her again, pulling her around to the other side of the wagon where no one could see.
“Hang on, Abbie!” he pleaded.
“No! No! No!” she screamed. She had to get away! Who cared if she died out there? Who cared if Rube Givens got hold of her and killed her? She had nothing left anyway. LeeAnn would be lost for good now; her father and brother were dead. She could not have Cheyenne Zeke. She had nothing but herself—and her mother’s clock, which she’d probably end up having to leave behind when they got to the mountains.
She tugged again to get away, wanting to run! Run! Run! Run until her breath was gone and she could fall down and die from exhaustion. But Zeke would not let go, and in that moment she hated him with a passion. She hated him because he was all that was left that she loved, and she knew he’d never allow anything to come of it. He’d just break her heart more, and she couldn’t take any more. Being near him only made everything blacker and more hopeless. If she could have gotten hold of a gun, she’d have shot herself, too. She had to get away! She made animallike grunts as she struggled, and finally she did the only thing she could think of that might startle him enough to make him let go. She rammed her knee hard between his legs, and she timed it right. He grunted and let go for a moment. Abbie ran.
She knew she was running faster than she’d ever run before or ever would again, spurred on by an extra something that gave her more strength and speed. Perhaps it was her terrible need to run from everything familiar: from the horrible memory of little Jeremy’s grave and the thought of her own father putting a rifle to his head and pulling the trigger, from her half-witted sister who didn’t care about her anymore, from the knowledge that her mother would never again embrace her, and from Zeke. Especially from Zeke, whom she loved with every bone in her body, yet hated just as passionately. She ran! Oh, how she ran! She had no idea where she was going, but she knew her feet were beginning to bleed from stones and rough foliage and hard ground. She literally ran into a couple of trees in her blindness, and she fell twice, but got up and just kept going, heedless of the danger of doing such a foolish thing, heedless of bears or wolves or snakes or rocks, heedless of the possibility of Rube Givens being around. None of it mattered, and if she fell to her death, who would care?
Then she heard someone behind her. Someone running—chasing her! She ran even faster, holding up her nightgown and robe, her hair flying out behind her. But the person behind her came closer, someone big, someone faster than she. She ran until her chest felt as though it would explode, then screamed when a hand grabbed her arm. She started fighting, struggling, screaming louder than she realized.
“Stop it now, Abbie!” came his voice. It was Zeke. For some reason he infuriated her. He had no right to stop her, no right! What should it matter to him if anything happened to her? He didn’t want her anyway. She reached up and scratched at him, screaming and crying and telling him she hated him. He jerked her around so her back was to him; then he grasped her wrists and pulled her arms behind her, amazed at the strength her sorrow and anger provoked. He held her arms tightly behind her, yelling at her to calm down. She kicked backward into his lower legs as hard as she could, but it was to no avail, and her angry words turned to whimpers, the sounds of an injured wolf, as exhaustion began to overtake her. She gritted her teeth, furious at not being stronger than the man who held her. She wanted to hurt him. She wanted that more than anything! For he was hurting her, and she didn’t want to live. He felt her weakening, so he swung her around. But she bit his hand hard, and the next thing she knew a big hand whacked her across the side of the face.
She gasped and froze for a moment. When Cheyenne Zeke hit a woman, she knew she’d been hit, and reality began swimming in front of her. She felt as though she were coming out of a strange sleep. She realized she’d run very far from the wagon train, for it was nowhere in sight. It was still dark, and she could hear a rushing stream somewhere nearby. Zeke’s tall, dark frame loomed over her in the moonlight.
She began shaking from the horror of her situation as she realized that Cheyenne Zeke’s prediction was coming true. She was alone—completely alone. He let go of her and she grasped her stomach and slumped to the ground, making odd choking sounds, her body jerking convusively like that of a wounded animal. Then she got up to run again, but Zeke grabbed her and literally tackled her to the ground, jerking her around to face him and pressing tight against her to hold her there.
“Please just kill me!” she sobbed. “Kill me like you did Jeremy! Please, Zeke!”
“Don’t talk that way, Abbie girl,” he said softly, brushing his lips over her cheek, her hair, her eyes, her lips. His strength seemed to surge through her, calming her, and his words were whispered tenderly. “My poor Abbie!” he groaned. “It will be all right. It will be all right in time.”
By then the exhaustion began to set in. She hurt all over, and her sorrow swept over her so that she lay there limp and weeping, her crying sometimes as loud as a little child’s. She put her arms around his neck, grasping him tightly, and he stayed there on the ground with her, whispering her name over and over. She cried so hard she thought her insides might erupt, and she ached—her ribs, her stomach, her lungs, her legs—everything ached. Meanwhile he held her there, her back against the thick, soft grass, until finally she had no strength left, not even to cry. Their eyes held in the moonlight, and they both knew what had to be, in spite of what had just happened to her, and in spite of the hopelessness of their future together.
In the next moment his lips were on hers again, this time searching tenderly, forcing her own lips apart, groping hungrily for what he needed and giving her what she needed in return. It seemed an almost apologetic kiss, as though to tell her it was not something that could last forever, and his hands moved up to grasp her hair. Their kiss lingered for a long time, until finally his lips moved to her neck and his hands moved down to her hips, and she felt a hardness against her stomach.
“Just for tonight, Abbie girl,” he whispered, “because you’re needing to be held and loved, and because I can’t bear the thought of any other man being first!” His lips met hers again hungrily as one hand moved up her leg, pulling up her robe and gown, beneath which she wore nothing. He moved a hand gently over that private place no man had ever touched, then up over her flat stomach and on up to open her robe and unbutton her gown, gently reaching inside to caress her breasts. As his lips left hers again and moved down to gently kiss a firm nipple, her breath came in short, resigned gasps. Zeke was touching her!
“It has to be you!” she whimpered. “Even if it can’t be forever! I want you to be the one to make a woman out of me, Zeke! Only you! No other man … would do it … gentle as you would.”
Her mind whirled in a terrible mixture of grief, need, and love as his lips met hers again. Then his hand moved back down between her legs, sending fire through her veins and pulsations through her groin she had never felt before. His lips moved to her neck again, and she wanted only to feel alive and loved.
“Make me forget all of it!” she whispered. “Make me forget, Zeke! Just for a little while.”
A glorious ecstasy surged through her suddenly as his hand worked some kind of magic with her, and she opened her legs to him willingly, not caring if it might hurt or if it was wrong.
In the next moment everything was forgotten; she was lost in the pain and the wonder of becoming a woman. He surged inside of her, branding her as his own even if they should pa
rt and never see each other again. He was a big man, and she wondered how such pain could be so welcome; but she knew that Cheyenne Zeke was as good at making love as he was at fighting.
Eleven
He moved off her and pulled her to him, putting a leg over one of hers and letting her rest her head on his shoulder, his arms enveloping her. For a moment they lay there silent, the only sound being that of the rushing waters of the stream somewhere nearby.
“You all right?” he finally asked.
She swallowed and blinked back tears, her momentary happiness at being made a woman by none other than Cheyenne Zeke darkened by the memory of her father’s death as reality now came back to her. “Everything hurts,” she replied. “My feet hurt bad. I think they’re bleeding.”
“I meant …” He hesitated and sighed. “Did I hurt you?”
She was glad for the darkness so he could not see the redness she knew came into her cheeks. “Some,” she replied.
He kissed her hair. “More than some,” he answered. He rose, picking her up and carrying her in the direction of the running water. She was like a babe in his arms, and she did not resist when he removed her robe, pulled her gown over her head, and carried her into the water, setting her down in it to her waist. She shivered and clung to his neck, while he gently rubbed her abdomen.
“I know it’s cold, but if you’re bleeding, the water will help stop it,” he told her. “Besides, you want to be cleaned up when you go back. How about your feet? Does the water make them feel better?”
“Yes,” she replied quietly.
He kept her there a moment, still rubbing her stomach and sometimes her hips. “Abbie, I—”
“It’s all right,” she interrupted. “I wanted it. In fact, I needed it. And I’m woman enough to know you needed it, too.”
“I took advantage of the situation.”
“Not intentionally. Not with the intent to hurt me.”
She could feel him trembling as he moved his hand up to the side of her face. The cool water felt good on her flushed cheek. “I’m so sorry, Abbie girl. I wish I could keep from hurting you other ways,” he said softly. “It’s a terrible thing I’ve just done, because I can’t take it any farther than tonight. May the Great Spirit curse me for being so damned weak when I’m near to you.”
She kissed the palm of his hand. “I already knew the risk. I’d argue with you that it could work, Zeke, because in my heart I feel it can. But you’re dead set against it, and God knows the horrible memories you have to live with, so I can’t blame you. Perhaps some day I will marry another. But there’s not another man I’d have wanted to do this, and I don’t care how wrong it was or how hopeless it is for you and me. I gave you pleasure, and that makes me happy. You were my first, and that makes me happy, too.”
“I took something that didn’t really belong to me—probably never will,” he answered, kissing her hair again.
“I don’t care. There’s only one thing that matters, one thing I need to know from you.” She turned her face up to meet his dark eyes in the moonlight. “Tell me it wasn’t just … just you remembering … her … Ellen. Tell me it was me you were wanting.”
Their eyes held for a long moment, and he ran his fingers over her lips. “It was you—just Abigail Trent.”
She smiled a little. “That’s all I needed to know,” she told him. “And I love you, Cheyenne Zeke. No matter where we go from here, no matter if I never see you again after Fort Bridger, I love you, and I’ll never stop loving you.”
He met her lips, and they kissed once more, hungrily, as though to say good-bye. Then his lips moved over her neck and down to kiss her small breasts once more. He picked her up out of the water.
“We can’t let on like anything is different after we go back,” he was telling her, as he dried her off as best he could with the bandanna he had been wearing around his head. “If anybody suspected, you’d be branded. Word would get around and they’d call you every name in the book for lying with a half-breed.” He slipped the gown over her head, then helped her put her robe back on. He grasped her arms firmly. “Abbie, promise me you won’t let on. Sometimes … sometimes a woman has a way of looking at a man—”
“I understand. I’ll try hard not to look at you with love in my eyes, but it won’t be easy.”
Their eyes held again, and she was sure there were tears in his, but it was too dark to be certain.
“I’ll watch out for you good, Abbie girl, till we get to Fort Bridger,” he told her. He sniffed and swallowed. “And … uh … I’ll talk to the Haneses. They’re damned good people. Mrs. Hanes is a fine woman. I’m sure they’d be glad to look after you the rest of the way to Oregon—give you a home till you’re old enough to … marry … or whatever.” The words seemed to choke in his throat. “You … uh … you’re a good worker and all. You can help out Mrs. Hanes with the kids and—”
“Oh, Zeke!” she cried, bursting into tears. He pulled her close to him, hugging her tightly.
“Damn it, Abbie, don’t make it harder!” He breathed deeply, and she could feel the pounding of his heart through his chest. “Your sister—I’ll watch out for her, too. But God knows that Robards will probably take her over completely now. She’s eighteen and there’s not a hell of a lot I can do about it, Abbie. If I try to keep them apart, she’ll just hate me—and hate you, too. And right now you need her. It’s best to keep things civil between the two of you. The only reason I mention the Haneses is … well … I expect LeeAnn will run off with that Robards once we get to Oregon. There’s no way a flutter-brain like her is going to stay around and help her sister. And there’s no way you can be out in the world alone, not in this untamed land and at your age and all. You must promise me that you won’t go off alone, not till you have a man to look after you. Promise me, Abbie.”
“I don’t want any man but you!”
“Promise me!” he answered, squeezing her harder. “I can’t bear the thought of some terrible thing happening to you! God knows I want to be the one holding you in the night, protecting you, but that can’t be. If you really love me, Abbie girl, promise me you won’t go off alone. Let me have that much to ease my mind.”
She cried, clinging to his buckskin shirt, drinking in the manly scent of him. “I promise,” she finally whimpered.
They heard the sound of an approaching horse, and he quickly let go of her.
“I’ll not treat you any different once we get back, Abbie girl,” he whispered. “What happened tonight—that’s all of it. God in heaven, tell me you understand! Tell me you forgive me!”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” she sobbed.
“Zeke?” someone hollered. He relaxed slightly, recognizing Olin’s voice.
“Over here!” he shouted in reply. He quickly kissed her cheek. “God be with you, Abigail,” he said softly.
“I’ll always pray for you, Zeke,” she whimpered in reply. Olin approached.
“You found her?” he asked, dismounting.
“The kid can run like a deer,” Zeke answered.
“She all right?”
“She’s scraped up pretty bad, especially her feet, She took off barefoot. You take her back with you on the horse, Olin, and I’ll walk back.”
Olin reached out and touched her hair. “I’m damned sorry about your pa, honey. It’s damned cruel what life’s been handin’ you these last few days. But we’ll all look out for you.”
He put his arm around her and led her to his horse, lifting her up into the saddle.
“Olin,” Zeke spoke up hesitantly. “When you get back, put something around her—a blanket if you’ve got one on your saddle there. There might be something on the back of her gown. I wouldn’t want anyone to see.”
Clinging to the saddle horn, Abbie reddened. Her whole body screamed now with pain and exhaustion. Olin frowned as he looked from Zeke to Abbie and back to Zeke.
“Your own heart is already tore to pieces,” he told Zeke sympathetically. “Did you h
ave to go and add her to the mess it’s already in? What about her?”
“What’s done is done!” Zeke replied almost angrily. “It’s between me and Abbie. And don’t think I’m not considering the fact that I’d be better off to shoot myself right now for what I’ve done!” He turned away. “Just take her back,” he said dejectedly. “Tell the others … tell them you found her … alone. Tell them you didn’t see me anywhere, that I must still be out here searching for her. I don’t want any of them to suspect I was the one who found her first. Do you understand?”
Olin sighed and shook his head. “I understand, Zeke.” He put a hand on Zeke’s shoulder. “You’ll be all right?”
Zeke actually snickered, but it was a bitter laugh. “Sure. Get going. I’ll turn up later.”
Olin turned and mounted up behind Abbie, putting one arm around her for support. “You okay to ride, honey?”
She hung her head. “Yes, sir,” she answered quietly.
He gave her a squeeze. “Things always look better in the daylight, Miss Abbie,” he told her. “Everything is gonna be okay. Ain’t none of us gonna let anything bad happen to you. You’re a good girl.” He kicked his horse into a walk. “No. I guess I should say you’re a good woman—a damned good woman.” They rode back toward camp, leaving Zeke beside the stream where he knelt down and wept in the privacy of the darkness.
Because Jason Trent had shot himself in the head, the other men put a lid on his burial box right away, so that Abbie and LeeAnn would not see the ugly wound. The morning broke bright and sunny, and Abbie walked with Bradley Hanes to pick out a burial spot. She chose a grassy hill that faced the rising sun, and the others quickly dug a hole, Zeke included, while Abbie and LeeAnn waited in their wagon, cleaning up and fixing their hair.
“Thank God for Quentin,” LeeAnn kept whimpering. “Oh, Abbie, what will you do now?” She dabbed at her tears, but Abbie knew what her remark meant. Abigail was not to count on joining up with LeeAnn and her lover, nor was LeeAnn about to abandon Quentin to care for her sister.
Sweet Prairie Passion (Savage Destiny) Page 20
