“We know,” Mr. Hanes replied with a little grin, and Abbie could feel the tenseness of the listeners as all waited to find out what happened next.
“Well, them two men stared at each other a minute, and then the one who made the remark, he pulled a knife. A knife!” Dooley accented the word, his voice low and raspy with intrigue. “Can you believe it? Lord God, that man sure didn’t know what he was doin’—pullin’ a knife on Cheyenne Zeke!”
Everyone grinned, but Abbie felt her eyes tearing at the thought of what Zeke had gone through just because of prejudice against his race. Dooley lowered his voice even more as he continued, walking around the small group of people and looking at them one by one as he spoke.
“The half-breed, he backed up some, and I stayed out of the way, ’cause I knew Zeke knowed what he was doin’. Then he whipped out that big blade of his. ‘We’re gonna do you in, Indian!’ one of them other men says. And a couple more of them pulled knives! Zeke, he just crouched down, wavin’ that blade of his, ready to pounce on them all like a bobcat! And next thing, they were all on him at once!” He stopped to drink more whiskey, and everyone waited.
“Well?” Kelsoe finally asked anxiously. “What happened then?”
“Well, sir, they all went at it,” Dooley finally replied. “Oh, it was a terrible thing to see. Zeke, he was like a roarin’ grizzly; right mad, he was! Tables spilled and drinks crashed to the floor and chairs went flyin’, and Zeke let out some warhoops like you never heard before—slashin’ here, slashin’ there! When it was over, four men lay dead on the floor, and another three took off through the windows, leavin’ a trail of blood like a river! That there tavern was covered with blood, from ceilin’ to wall to floor! But you know what?” The man grinned and chuckled, taking one more swallow of whiskey.
“What? What?” the schoolteacher’s son asked, wide-eyed with excitement. Dooley stepped close to the boy and replied slowly.
“Not…one…drop… of that blood …was Zeke’s!”
The crowd sat quietly for a moment, as they began to comprehend what the man was telling them.
“Is that the real truth?” Hanes asked.
“As God is my witness!” Dooley answered. “Ask Olin there. He knows what Zeke can do with that knife.”
All eyes turned to Olin, and the man grinned a little. “I seen a man draw a gun on Zeke once,” he told them. “And before he could fire, Zeke had his blade out and give it a throw—landed in the man’s chest before he even pulled the trigger.”
Abbie shivered, not sure if it was from the cold, or from the pictures Dooley and Olin had conjured up in her mind. It was difficult to comprehend the vast difference in the two men Cheyenne Zeke could be; for the one who handled the blade as they said he did seemed a far cry from the one who had made love to her so gently.
Everyone actually seemed to jump when Zeke himself suddenly stepped into the light of the fire and glared at Dooley with a rather dissatisfied look.
“You telling stories again, Dooley?” he asked sternly. Dooley’s smile faded.
“Just the truth, Zeke,” the man replied, walking up to the man and putting out his hand.
“Spreading those stories about me doesn’t make my life any easier, Dooley,” Zeke told him. Dooley pulled his hand back and rubbed it nervously on his trouser leg.
“Well, Zeke, I … just tell them because I’m … proud to know you, that’s all,” the man answered, looking worried. “Ain’t many men can share their whiskey with another man who’s practically famous for the way he uses a blade.” Dooley held his whiskey bottle out to Zeke as though it were a peace offering, and Zeke’s anger faded slightly, replaced by a faint smile that passed over his lips. He took the bottle from Dooley.
“Do me a favor, Dooley, and don’t be so free with my life’s stories. There’re some things maybe a man don’t want told.” He took a swallow of the whiskey.
“Sure, Zeke,” Dooley replied, obviously a little worried that he had upset the man. The others just stared, as though Zeke were something to be revered, but also feared. Zeke frowned and looked over at the musicians.
“Well, get busy and give these nice people some more music!” he said in a rather perturbed voice. “I heard a lot of playing and singing a few minutes ago, and these folks have a lot to celebrate for just being alive!”
The fiddlers dived into another song; and the tension was broken, as several of the mountain men gathered around Zeke, offering him more whiskey and slapping him on the back, while some of the men from the train joined them, thanking him for getting them this far and asking him how he thought the rest of the trip would go.
Abbie just watched. He had not even looked at her yet, and her heart pounded with dread at what he would say when he did speak to her—if he spoke to her at all. Yet as she watched him, she was even more sure she could not live without him now. They had been through too much together: laughed together, cried together, suffered together, even fought together. And most wonderful of all, they had made love. He knew her intimately, and he had brought forth from her passion and an almost wicked abandonment of her inhibitions and common sense.
She stared at his broad, strong physique. He wore his white beaded shirt, and his hair was tied near each ear and hung in two plaits over the front of his shoulders. The white headband he wore contrasted provocatively with the dark skin of his stirringly handsome face. His smile flashed bright and beautiful as he spoke and drank with the other men, and she could not imagine anything more wonderful than to be called Cheyenne Zeke’s woman.
She watched hopefully until finally his eyes glanced her way and held her own for a moment as though seeking her answer. And there was only one answer she could give him as she looked back lovingly. She would suffer anything to be at his side. He looked away again as little Mary Hanes approached him and pleaded with him to sing and play the “pretty mandolin.” Zeke had never been able to say no to the child, so he left for a moment and, returning with the instrument, sat down on a stump. He hoisted little Mary to his lap, reaching around her to play the mandolin, and Abbie found it difficult to believe he was the same man who handled a blade the way Dooley and Olin had said he did. But she knew it was true, for she had seen some of what he could do with her own two eyes.
Zeke strummed on the instrument for a few minutes, while the rest of them quieted, and then he sang a song about a bumblebee for little Mary. The child put her arms around his neck and her head on his shoulder, falling asleep before the song was even finished.
Mrs. Hanes took the child from him then, chuckling and shaking her head at the contrast between the big, dark half-breed and the tiny, blond-haired girl who had learned to love and trust him.
“Sing us another one!” Dooley spoke up, seeming to be anxious to get on Zeke’s good side and to reassure himself that they were still friends. Some of the others insisted also, and Zeke strummed on the mandolin softly, letting its haunting music flow forth into the night air, while he sat with his eyes closed, humming a tune Abbie had never heard before. When he opened his eyes, the crowd quieted, and he looked straight at Abbie as he sang.
“She walked into my life like a shadow;
And I watched her move across the meadow bright.
I ran out there to catch her,
But she slipped right through my fingers;
And now she’s just a whisper in the night.”
Everyone listened quietly to the lovely song that he had apparently made up, for none of them had ever heard it before. He continued to look at Abbie as he sang, and her heart pounded and her eyes filled with tears as she realized the song was meant for her.
“I’m a man without a home, nor a woman.
I suppose that’s just the way it has to be.
I was born to be lonely,
To belong to myself only,
And that girl I saw could not belong to me.”
Her heart sank at the message he was giving her.
“I watched her walk away in the twil
ight.
She smiled as she passed, and beckoned me.
But I knew I could not go.
For my soul is not my own;
And that pretty girl and I could never—”
He stopped suddenly and stood up, walking closer to Abbie, his eyes holding hers like those of a hypnotist, while the others watched curiously. Tears slipped down Abbie’s cheeks at the thought that this could be the last time she saw him this way, the last time he would sing to her—the last time for everything. Then he reached out and gently touched her cheek with the back of his hand. He closed his eyes and sighed resignedly, then turned to the others.
“Dooley told you a story tonight,” he said quietly. “It was true.” His eyes scanned the crowd, as though ready to defend his next words against whatever someone might have to say against them. “I’ve fought a lot of men,” he went on, “and led a violent life because of what I am. I’ve not asked for most of those fights. But they come to me anyway, and I usually win. But there’s one fight I guess I’ve lost. Some of you folks already know I have … strong feelings for Miss Trent here. I’ve been fighting those feelings—for obvious reasons. I intended tonight to be the end of it for myself and Miss Trent. But a vision I once had tells me different—and almost losing her to death told me even more. Now, tonight, looking at her and knowing what’s in her own heart, knowing what she has suffered, I must admit that I’ve lost this fight.” He turned back to Abbie. “I want to marry Miss Trent … if she’ll have me,” he went on. “And I’ll kill every last man who dares to insult her for loving a half-breed.”
Mrs. Hanes gasped with pleasure, and the others stared quietly as Zeke held Abbie’s eyes. Abbie’s heart pounded wildly, and her face felt flushed. Zeke reached out his hand, and she took it with her usable arm, putting his hand to her face and bursting into all-out crying as incredible joy and relief flowed through her veins. Zeke stroked her hair with his other hand and looked at Mrs. Hanes.
“Now what’s a man supposed to think when he asks a woman to marry him and she starts bawling her head off?” he asked with a grin. Mrs. Hanes laughed.
“I think it means yes,” she answered.
“Yahoo!” Dooley shouted, slugging down some more whiskey. The fiddlers broke into the wedding march, but with a fast beat, and the others laughed and came up to Zeke, congratulating him with genuine joy.
“Hell, all of us knew how you felt about her, Zeke,” Kelsoe told him.
“You made the right decision, Zeke,” Hanes added. “That little girl loves you and she’s all alone now. She needs you.”
“You got yourself one perty young lady there, Zeke!” one of Bridger’s men told him, slapping Zeke on the back.
Jim Bridger himself came up to him then, and Zeke pulled his hand away from the still-crying Abbie to shake the man’s hand. “Congratulations!” Bridger told him. “And out here in these parts, we have to make do. So if you want to marry her tonight, I’ll perform the marriage myself. I don’t reckon God cares much who does it, just so’s it’s done and it’s wrote down on paper legallike. You should be with her tonight, since you’ll be leavin’ out for Oregon tomorrow.”
“That’s what I was hoping for,” Zeke replied. “I’ll be back for her in early spring or sooner—soon as I can get here, Jim.”
“With a pretty young thing like that waiting for me, I’d ride hard to get back too!” the man replied with a chuckle. “You get her calmed down, and we’ll have us a wedding yet tonight! I’ll leave my cabin to the two of you tonight.”
The beautiful words swam in Abbie’s head, and she wondered if she was dreaming as she felt Zeke lifting her in his arms. She put her good arm around his neck, crying on his shoulder as he carried her away from the crowd and sat down on a log alone with her.
“Come on now, woman, quit your crying,” he told her, kissing her hair and eyes. He touched her left breast gently. “How are you healing, Abbie girl?”
“Good,” she sniffled. “I’m … healing good.” She buried her face in his neck again. “Oh, Zeke, do you truly mean it? You’ll really … marry me?”
“I’d better. I just asked you in front of all those people.”
“Oh, I love you! I love you, Zeke! I’ll be good to you. I won’t ever complain … or turn you away in the night. I’ll be the best wife a man could ever want!”
“I know all that,” he replied softly, moving his lips over her cheek and then to her own lips, kissing her hungrily. The kiss lingered, sweet and hot and searching, as his hands moved over her thighs and abdomen. He left her lips, moving his mouth to her neck. “I know you aren’t well, Abbie—”
“It’s all right. You’ll be gentle, and I can lie still. You’ll just have to be careful of the wound. I might not be well, but I’ll not let you go tomorrow without being your woman tonight,” she whispered.
They kissed again. “I must be crazy to do this!” he whispered. “I see so much suffering ahead, Abbie girl.”
“We’ll get through it together.”
“There will be wars, Abbie—bloody battles.”
“Then we’ll just fight side by side. We’ve done it already.”
“But it will be white against Indian.”
“I’m your woman. Whoever you do battle with, I do battle with. The Cheyenne will be my family. I’ll learn their ways, and I’ll learn to love them. I’m young, Zeke. I bend easy.”
“It’s such a hard life.”
“I’ve never had an easy one.”
“There won’t be a permanent house.”
“My home is with you. Wherever we are together, we’ll be home.”
“You’d be leaving everything familiar to you behind.”
“I’ll keep a few things: pa’s fiddle, mama’s necklace—little things. I’ll leave Jeremy’s clothes here for Mr. Bridger to give to Indian children. And I’ll give my ma’s clock to Mrs. Hanes. She’d like to have it, and I’ll always know it will be taken care of. I have no family left. There is no past for me anymore, Zeke. Only a future—with you.”
“What about Tennessee?”
They kissed hungrily again.
“That’s behind me, too,” she replied when his lips left hers. “I don’t belong there anymore. I belong out here, with the mountains and the prairies—and you.”
“God, I love you, Abbie,” he whispered. “That’s the only thing I know. When you took me inside of you, you took my soul, damn you! I don’t belong to myself anymore. I’ve got no strength to fight when I’m near you. I wanted to go on without you, but I can’t do it. I’m so tired of being alone, Abbie. I want a wife—children again.”
“I’ll give you all the children you want,” she answered, her body on fire for him. “It’s going to be a long winter without you, Zeke.”
He searched her eyes lovingly. “That’s a fact. But when I come back, you’ll be rested and healed, and we can go on down to the Arkansas - and the Cheyenne.”
She took a deep breath. “It’s kind of scary. Do you think they’ll accept me?”
He grinned. “You’ve killed two Crow. They might make you a chief for that!”
She smiled. “Oh, Zeke, I’ll try real hard to make you proud of me. I’ll be as good a wife as the best Cheyenne woman.”
“I know you will.” He kissed her again. “I’ll do my best to protect you from all harm, Abbie girl.”
“I know you will.”
“It will be so hard for you.”
“Not as hard as living without you.”
“It was you in the vision, Abbie. It was you all along.”
“I knew.”
“But there’s more, Abbie girl.” His eyes filled with sorrow. “I see great personal loss ahead, things we will be able to bear only because of our love for each other.”
She nodded. “I’m prepared, Zeke. I’ve already known great personal loss and suffered through it alone.”
“But someday you’ll be alone again. I see that, too. It’s far in the future, Abbie girl, but I saw you
in a dream. You were older, your hair graying. You stood on top of a mountain alone. I came to you, only I was an eagle. My spirit was in the eagle. My people call me Lone Eagle, Abbie. I know what the vision means. It means I’ll go before you.”
Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she touched his face. “You said my hair was gray. That means we have a lot of years together first, Zeke. I’ll take those years—and whatever comes after. I’d rather have you for a while than to never have you at all. Whatever lies ahead, you’ll be with me forever, if not in body, then in spirit. And you’ll live with me through our children.” She studied his dark eyes. “Let’s go get married, Zeke,” she whispered. “Tonight we’re alive and in love. I want to sleep with you and be your woman. The future belongs to someone else. Today belongs to us.”
He picked her up and carried her back, while high above them on a mountain peak an eagle sat, keeping its babies warm. And no one knew that in time, both the eagle and the Indian would be all but extinct. The white man had invaded the Indian’s last hunting grounds, and great challenges lay ahead for Cheyenne Zeke and his woman.
* * *
I will stay with you, my love,
I will bear the hardships life brings us.
For life would be so much more unbearable
Without you.
We will follow the uncaught wind,
And range with the eagle and all wild things—
Wild and free … like you, my darling …
And like the love we share … wild and free.
Wild and free.
Sweet Prairie Passion (Savage Destiny) Page 37
