Sweet Prairie Passion (Savage Destiny)

by Rosanne Bittner

  “Yes. All her functions seem to be working normally. And there’s been no vomiting.”

  “Good.”

  Abbie reddened at the casual conversation about her bodily functions. She could tell by the feel of things that her bottom was wrapped in some kind of rags or towels. She felt humiliated and embarrassed.

  “I’m a baby!” she whimpered. “I’m just a big baby!”

  “Like hell!” Zeke answered. “You can’t help yourself, Abbie. It’s important for you to lie very still. You can’t get up for anything. If you try to, I’ll tie you down. I don’t want any complications. And as soon as I’m done here, I want you to eat something. All you’ve gotten into your stomach for two days is water and whiskey.”

  “I’m sorry I’m … such a burden,” she sobbed.

  “Don’t be silly,” Mrs. Hanes answered. “You’re badly wounded and we all want to help you.”

  “Go get Olin back in here,” Zeke told the woman. “He’s got to hold her up a little, while I cut off these bandages and check for infection.”

  Mrs. Hanes summoned Olin, and Abbie looked up at Zeke, who was taking out his knife. Their eyes met.

  “Promise me … you won’t let me suffer … like Jeremy did,” she whispered. “Use that knife on me, like you did on Jeremy … if I’m bad infected and you know I’ll die anyway. Promise me!”

  His eyes filled with tears and he nodded. “I promise,” he told her. She knew he meant it.

  “I’m sorry … for all the things I said … when you were taking out the arrow,” she whimpered. “I don’t hate you … or even the Indians. I love this land, Zeke.”

  “A man would be crazy to believe what a person says when he’s in pain.”

  “I love you,” she whispered. “Please … tell me again … that you love me, Zeke!”

  He touched her hair. “You know I love you, Abbie girl.”

  Just then, Mrs. Hanes was came back inside with Olin, so Zeke withdrew his hand and grew cooler again.

  “She knows, Zeke,” Abbie said quietly. “Mrs. Hanes … guessed. You can talk to me … freely in front of her.”

  Zeke frowned and looked at Mrs. Hanes.

  “It’s all right, Zeke,” the woman said kindly. “I won’t say anything to anyone. I understand. And Abbie needs you right now. You say whatever you need to say.” Their eyes held a moment.

  “You’re a kind and good woman, Mrs. Hanes.”

  “You saved my little girl’s life. That isn’t something I can forget. You’re a fine man—a truthful and honest man. You’ve risked your life for us more than once. And you have a right to love whomever you choose. Everyone has that right.”

  Zeke sighed. “I wish it was that simple, ma’am. But there are some of us who have no rights.” He changed his position beside Abbie, while Olin moved around to the other side of the girl. “Please have somebody find some moss, Mrs. Hanes,” he continued, wanting to change the subject. “Then get some water boiling and get a fire going, with good, hot coals—hot as you can get them.”

  Abbie’s heart pounded with fear at the request, and Mrs. Hanes frowned. “Why?” she asked. Zeke reached out and touched the woman’s arm.

  “Just do it,” he said quietly. Their eyes held, and Mrs. Hanes’ eyes filled with tears at the realization of what he was telling her. She nodded and started out of the wagon.

  “Mrs. Hanes,” Zeke spoke up. She turned to look at him. “Thank you,” he told her. “For everything.”

  “You’re welcome, Zeke.” The woman left, and Abbie’s breathing quickened.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked, shaking.

  “Calm down, Abbie,” he replied softly.

  “You’re going to burn me!” she screamed.

  “Damn it, Abbie, I don’t know what I’m going to do yet! I haven’t even seen the wound. Now just relax and let’s have a look. And trust me, Abbie girl. You must know that whatever I do, it will be to help you and make you feel better in the long run.”

  “I’m scared!” she whimpered again.

  “Well, so am I,” Zeke replied. “Olin, get a hand under her ribs and her neck, and lift her, real gentle, so I can slip off the bandages.”

  “Sure, Zeke.” Olin did as he was told, and Abbie cried out when he lifted her, grasping Olin’s forearm with her good hand. “It’s gonna be okay, Abigail,” Olin reassured her. Zeke took his knife and quickly slit the bandages in one quick movement, not even touching her skin with the knife. He gently unwrapped the gauze.

  “I don’t want … everybody seeing me!” she sobbed.

  “Nobody’s here but me and Olin—and Mrs. Hanes has been helping, but she’s a woman anyway,” Zeke replied. “Olin—he’s not seeing anything he hasn’t seen before, and most likely he’s seen a lot more of it,” he added, trying to make her laugh. “Besides, he’s my friend and yours. Friends have a way of fast forgetting things that are best forgotten.”

  He slipped the bandages from under her arm, then looked at Olin with concern.

  “What’s wrong?” Abbie asked.

  Olin gently released her, so that her head was on the pillow again.

  “I have to raise your arm some, Abbie,” Zeke told her.

  “No! It will hurt too much!” she protested.

  He leaned closer. “Abbie, look straight at me.”

  She met his eyes and saw love, tenderness, and deep concern. “Don’t you trust me, Abigail?”

  “You know I do,” she squeaked.

  “I won’t let you die, Abbie. No matter what it takes, or how much I might have to hurt you at first, I won’t let you die. Do you understand me?”

  “But … you promised—”

  “Only if I know it’s hopeless. But it isn’t hopeless, Abigail, and I intend to keep it that way.”

  “Stay with me!” she whispered.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Now let me have a look at you.”

  She sniffled and closed her eyes. When Olin raised her arm some, she groaned and gritted her teeth against the pain. Then Zeke touched her ribs, and when his hands moved to her breast, she recoiled because of the pain.

  “Real bad there?” he asked.

  “Yes, yes!” she yelled, breaking into a sweat. He moved his hand to her shoulder and along the top of it.

  “How about here?”

  “It doesn’t hurt there.”

  He moved to her back and shoulder blade, his hand as gentle as a kitten’s. “Any pain back here?”

  “Just a little.”

  He touched her upper arm. “Here?”

  “No. It’s not the arm that hurts when you move it. It’s … all the muscles around it …in my chest.”

  He touched her side near the breast again, and she screamed, fearing she’d pass out from the pain. Zeke looked at Olin again and Olin gently laid her arm back down. Zeke covered her with the blanket and they gently rolled her onto her back. Zeke bent closer again.

  “Abbie girl.”

  She opened her eyes to stare into his, his gaze dark, hypnotic, and full of love mixed with sorrow for what he would have to do.

  “I’m looking at the bravest woman I ever knew. Hell, you’ve killed yourself two Crows, that renegade who worked for Givens and that one you killed a couple of days ago.” He smiled a little, but she knew he was leading up to something bad. “I’ve never known a girl as brave as you, and that’s part of what I love about you.”

  “You’re going to burn me!” she whispered, choking back fresh tears.

  “I have to, Abbie. I won’t let you die. It’s a fact you’re full of infection, but I think we can lick it if we move fast. Otherwise you’ll end up like Jeremy, and I won’t let that happen. But I can’t lie to you, Abbie. It will be bad. And I’m asking you to let me do it—not just for you, but for me. Don’t make me sit and watch you die like Jeremy did. And don’t make me do what you know would be a terrible thing for me. I’ll kill myself if I have to do that to you, of all people.”

  “What will you do?” sh
e asked. “How?”

  He kissed her forehead. “I’ll have to cut you first, along the side and a little bit around the breast, then I’ll force out the pus. Just that much will actually feel better once I’m through, honey. And I’ll make it clean as a whistle, so there will be hardly any scar at all. You trust me with this big blade of mine, don’t you?”

  “I do,” she whimpered. “But … I don’t know, Zeke. It’ll hurt … so bad!”

  “That’s a fact, Abbie girl. But you know I’m good with a blade, and I’ll do it fast as I can—get it over quickly.” Their eyes held, and she began to calm down.

  “What if … the infection … comes back?”

  “I doubt that it will, not if I … cauterize it good.” He swallowed. “I …I’ll have to burn the infection out of there, Abbie. I have to … drive a hot iron through that wound, honey.”

  Her eyes widened. “N-no!” she finally choked out. “I won’t let you! I didn’t think … you meant to go that far! Don’t do that to me, Zeke!”

  “It has to be done, Abbie. My God, do you think I want to do it?”

  “No! I’d rather die!”

  “You’ve got no choice. It’s the only answer, and if there’s a chance of saving you, I intend to do it.”

  “Please, don’t, Zeke!” she sobbed, her fear building to terror. “I’ll be all right! Just drain it!”

  “No, you won’t be all right. I’d have to cut you—again and again. It’s best to get it burned out of there right now.”

  “I have to agree with him, Miss Abbie,” Olin told her. “Zeke knows what he’s doing. He sure as hell doesn’t want to do it, honey, but you can make it a lot easier on him if you just accept it. Someday you’ll wonder why in hell you wanted to die. You’ll be all better—just like new.”

  She looked back at Zeke and caught him wiping at his eyes. And she knew what a horrible thing it would be for him to hurt her the way he would have to hurt her.

  “Stay with me—through everything,” she told him, now calmer.

  “You know I will,” he answered. “Hell, I’m the one who’ll be doing it.”

  “I mean … afterward,” she pleaded.

  He nodded. “I’ll be with you, Abbie girl.” He bent down and kissed her again. “I’ll be with you.”

  He looked at Olin. “Let’s get some more whiskey down her.”

  He smiled at Abbie. “You’ll be able to drink me under the table before this is all over,” he teased. But his remark did little to quell her fear and apprehension. He ran a hand over her thighs and belly, and up to her face. “It’ll be all right, Abbie girl.”

  “I’ll … uh … I’ll go see what I can find to use for a rod and get it heated up,” Olin told Zeke, his own eyes tearing. “You just stay here and keep talkin’ to her.” As he climbed out of the wagon, Zeke took a hanky Abbie had wadded up in her good hand and wiped tears from her cheeks with it.

  “Did you … really mean it… about me being a real Cheyenne?” she asked him.

  “Sure I did. Hell, the Cheyenne men would honor you for killing two Crow. And now you’ve lived through a Crow arrow. That’s mighty strong medicine, Abbie girl.”

  “Strong enough … for you … to keep me with you? Let me live … with the Cheyenne?”

  She felt him tense up, and he moved his hand away from her face. He looked away. “Don’t talk about those things right now, Abbie,” he answered.

  “But … I don’t care … if I live or die … if you’re still going to leave … at Fort Bridger,” she whimpered, new tears coming. “I can’t … take anymore, Zeke! I… can’t go on! I just…can’t!”

  “Abbie!” he said sternly, grasping her face between his hands. “Not now, Abbie. We’ll talk about it… when you’re better. All right?”

  “You mean … you’d reconsider?”

  Their eyes held for several seconds. “I don’t know what I mean,” he told her. “All I know right now is I don’t want you to die, honey. Please hang on for me.”

  Mrs. Hanes climbed into the wagon with some moss and clean bandages, and their conversation ended. “How are we doing?” the woman asked with reassuring smile. Zeke took a long drink of whiskey himself, then started gently forcing some down Abbie’s throat.

  “I’ve got to cut her, Mrs. Hanes,” he told the woman, as Abbie coughed and grimaced with pain. “Drain the infection. Then I’ll cauterize the wound—drive a hot rod through it.”

  Mrs. Hanes’s eyes widened and she grasped her stomach. “You … can’t do such a thing!”

  “I can and I will,” he replied, quietly but sternly. “I just got her talked into it, Mrs. Hanes, so don’t go getting her to change her mind. It’s the only way to save her life. If I don’t do it, the infection will only get worse and she’ll die, and I won’t let that happen. I’d rather slit my own throat than do it, but there’s no choice. It’s the practical thing to do.”

  There was the word again. “Practical.” Abbie wondered how often it was used in this strange, wild land. No matter how painful, or perhaps even sinful it was to do so, like when they’d let the Indians take Connely, one had to be practical in this cruel land to survive. Mrs. Hanes nodded.

  “I understand. What do you want me to do?”

  “I need a pan for draining the infection,” Zeke replied matter-of-factly. “And I need hot water to wash it afterward, and some needle and thread to sew her up. Boil the needle and thread. We already have moss and clean bandages. I’ll pack her up good when it’s done. Then all we can do is wait. When I’m through, we’ll lift her and let you change the bedclothes.”

  “I’ll be right here to do whatever you ask.”

  Zeke met her eyes and smiled. “I figured you would be. I’m glad I have you to help instead of that worthless Yolanda Brown. How about your kids?”

  “Bradley will look after them. He understands. He’s as concerned as I am.” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I already have some water heating. I’ll go and get a needle and thread and boil it.”

  When Mrs. Hanes left again, Abbie turned her face away, fighting her awful fear of what was about to be done to her, her only consolation being that it was Zeke himself who would do the work.

  “I think I’d rather … face Rube Givens again … than this!” she whispered. “I’d rather … face those … renegades.”

  “Hush, Abigail,” he replied softly, while he gently rubbed her forehead and temples. “You know what’s out there around us?” he asked.

  “What?” she whimpered.

  “The Wind River Mountains. They’re awful pretty, Abbie girl, and you’ve got to get well quick so you can see them. There’s a lot of snow way up there on those peaks. It’s a damned pretty sight. We’re high now—real high. We’ll have to wrap you up good tonight, because it gets mighty cold here after dark—cold enough to put ice on top of the water barrels.”

  “In July?” she asked, turning back to face him.

  “It’s the first of August. But, yes, even in August. It might be summer down on the prairies, but up here it’s never summer.”

  She turned away again. “It will never … be summer in my heart again,” she told him.

  “Don’t talk like that, honey.”

  “It’s true. You know … why I was … out there … with Bobby?”

  He didn’t answer right away, but he kept rubbing her head. “I have a suspicion,” he finally answered. She detected a vague ring of jealousy.

  “We were … just talking,” she told him. “Then Bobby … he flat out… told me he … loved me … wanted to see more of me … when we got to Oregon.… He said he … suspected and understood … about you … that it didn’t … matter.” Her voice choked up again. “I saw a chance … to maybe just … be happy without you, Zeke. But it … wouldn’t have been … what I really wanted. I knew that even … if I married Bobby … or anybody else … it wouldn’t be that man … in my bed at night.”

  “Abbie, don’t—”

  “I … can’t
help it!” she sobbed. “You know … what else?”

  “What else, Abbie girl?”

  “He wanted to … kiss me … just as a friend. He was so sweet … the way he looked at me … the things he … said to me.… And I knew I had to do … like you said … and be thinking about… somebody else. So I …let him kiss me. And right when … he touched my lips … he … died! He died! Right then!” Her voice rose to a near scream. “He died! He died! Everybody is dead! Everybody! I want to die, too, Zeke! Just let me die!”

  He grasped her face tightly again. “No, Abbie!” he growled. “Now hang on! Hang on for me! For Zeke!”

  “I’m scared! I’m …so scared! Stay with me!”

  “I said I would.” He kissed her forehead and her eyes, keeping her face tight between his hands. “Come on, Abbie girl, you can do it! Make me proud of you.”

  She choked on a sob. “Do you … think I’m bad … for kissing Bobby?”

  He smiled a little. “No,” he replied softly. “You were just being practical.”

  Now she actually smiled just a little herself, her eyes held by his dark ones. “Practical… isn’t as … exciting,” she answered. He bent down and kissed her eyes again.

  “It seldom is, Abbie girl. But fewer people get hurt.”

  “Maybe … physically. But … what about … emotionally?” Her eyes dropped slightly, and her words were slightly slurred. The whiskey was taking effect, and he was glad, for he wasn’t quite sure how to answer her last question.

  Abbie’s head swam and her mind began to drift. Someone poured more whiskey into her mouth, and she was vaguely aware that Mrs. Hanes and Olin had returned. But when she heard Zeke giving orders, she felt her panic building, in spite of her whiskey dulled sensations.

  “I wish we had some laudanum along,” Zeke said disgustedly. “Whiskey doesn’t work near as good.”

  “Let’s hope it’s at least almost as good,” Kelsoe spoke up. Abbie remembered being upset that Kelsoe was there again; but she had no strength to object, and she knew the man was good-hearted and only there to help. However, if he was there, they must be ready. Her heart pounded and her breathing grew more difficult. She thought she might suffocate; it was so hard to breathe. She heard whimperings and groans as someone moved her, but was not even aware they came from her own lips.