Zeke leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Well, Joshua, I hope you can help them in some way someday. Something tells me you’ll do just that. You seem like a very nice and very smart young man.”
The boy smiled. “I’m going to college someday. Have you ever been to college?”
Zeke chuckled. “I’m afraid not, young man. Far from it. My education has been living in the open, with animals for friends and all of nature to teach me about God.”
The boy suddenly jumped up, his young mind flitting from one subject to another. “I’ve had six operations!” he announced proudly. “I walk real good now, see?” He paraded once around the room and Zeke smiled and nodded.
“Very fine. You must be a very brave boy.”
He shrugged. “I just want to walk, that’s all. Mom tells me when I was born I was all twisted. It’s called clubfoot. But I’m a lot better now, and I don’t have very much pain.”
Zeke nodded obligingly. If only Yellow Moon could see this fine son she had birthed! And if only Abbie could see him. How happy and contented she would feel knowing Joshua had turned out so handsome and brave and was so happy.
Suddenly Bonnie was at the doorway, and Zeke rose. Her face paled when she saw that Joshua was in the same room with the man who knew everything about his past. Zeke gave her a reassuring look. “I’ve just been getting acquainted with your son, here, Mrs. Lewis,” he told her. “He’s a fine boy.” Their eyes held again. “A very fine boy.”
“We’re … very proud of him,” she replied.
Zeke flashed the handsome grin she had remembered all these years, and what she felt in her chest was sheer pain. She turned her eyes to Joshua. “You get to bed, young man,” she told him. “It’s very late, and Mister Monroe is wounded besides. We have to take care of his wounds and let him get some rest.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the boy answered. He put his hand out to Zeke. “Nice to meet you, sir,” the boy told him. Zeke took his hand gently, squeezing the tiny hand in his own big palm.
“I’m very happy to meet you, too, Joshua,” Zeke replied.
Joshua felt a strange tingle at the touch of the tall Indian’s hand, as though there were something familiar about him. But he was too young to question or worry about such feelings.
“Goodnight, sir,” he told Zeke. He turned and limped over to his mother, who bent over and kissed his cheek.
“I’ll come and check on you soon. Can you handle the brace by yourself?” she asked him.
“You know I can, Mother,” the boy said almost chidingly. He walked off and Bonnie looked at Zeke with a glowing pride.
“You’ve done a marvelous job with him,” he told her. “I never really doubted Abbie and I did the right thing bringing him to you, Bonnie. I can’t express how relieved and happy I am at seeing him—so healthy and happy.”
She studied the handsome face. Why was her God so cruel as to bring this man of men back into her life? “He’s my whole world,” she answered. “I apparently am not going to have any children of my own.”
She suddenly blushed and looked away. Zeke knew Rodney Lewis, and he strongly suspected what kind of husband the man was. He contemplated the fact that if she were his own wife, she’d have plenty of children by now. She was a fine woman, and it angered him that she was wasted on Rodney Lewis. But that was not his business now, nor was there anything he could do about it. Bonnie Lewis was nothing more to him than a gentle, lovely woman he had helped and befriended, and who now raised his crippled nephew. She had never been anything more than that to him, although he knew she wished he could have been. He had never had any feelings of desire for her in the way that he desired Abbie.
“Some things just aren’t meant to be, I guess,” he replied, trying to console her. She remained turned away, and he knew she was struggling with her emotions. He scrambled desperately to change the subject. “Well, how about telling me what the hell you’re doing here in Virginia,” he spoke up. “I figured you were still out in Wyoming.”
She turned to meet his eyes again. “I could ask you the same thing,” she answered.
Zeke sat back down. “Well, Danny’s wife, Emily, she came around last summer and told me Danny had been wounded and taken prisoner, begged me to come East and see if maybe I could find him.” He nodded toward the room she had just come from. “As you can see, I found him. How’s he doing?”
“It’s hard to say yet. We can’t guarantee anything, Zeke. We’ll just have to wait a few days.”
He sighed and nodded, then relit his pipe.
“How long have you been gone?” she asked him.
He stared at the design in the Oriental rug on the floor. “Too long,” he said wistfully. “I just pray to God Abbie and the kids are all right. We have seven children now—four girls and three boys.”
“Seven!” she exclaimed. She quickly smiled, trying to hide her burning envy of Abigail Monroe, who had lain beneath this man and taken his seed, turning it into seven little Monroes. What a lucky woman she was! “My goodness, Abbie must be busy.”
Zeke grinned. “She has a way of handling everything like clockwork. A very organized woman, and a woman with enough love to give everybody an equal share.” He puffed his pipe again. “You still haven’t answered my question—about why you’re here.”
“Oh, I guess I haven’t,” she answered, coming to sit down beside him. She was rigid and tense. “Joshua … needed another operation. And Father, he felt that with this terrible war, there would be a lot of men here in the East who would need his services. He wanted to come and do what he could until the war is over. And because Joshua needed to come again, I came along with Father. Rodney and I …” She looked away again. “We … agreed … that it was best.”
Zeke frowned. “Rodney didn’t come with you?”
“Oh, no!” she replied too quickly, putting on a defensive smile. “He has a circuit he travels now. He felt he should stay out in Wyoming and continue his practice there. There are so many settlers now, scattered here and there, who have no church to attend. So he goes to them.”
She felt hot and flustered under his all-knowing look. Somehow this perceptive man knew how cold and lonely was her marriage. And he knew she wished her husband had wanted to come along, or had asked her to stay. She twisted her skirt in her fingers. “We … we should take care of that wound on your back, Zeke. And then you must get some rest. You’ll be of no use to Danny if you get sick. There is a lot of disease everywhere. You rest, and then we’ll talk more.” She met his eyes again, putting on the unaffected smile. “I want to know all about what’s happening with your family, Zeke—about the children, what they’re like. And how is Abbie?”
He smiled softly. “Abbie’s fine. At least she was when I left. I hope Danny heals fast. I can’t stay away much longer.” He reached out and took her hand. “It sure is good to see you, Bonnie. It renews my spirit to see someone I know. I’ve seen so much … hell. I’ve been all over the place for about eight months now, visited Confederate camps and all. I’ve never seen anything to match this war when it comes to filth and starvation and horrible wounds—makeshift hospitals with arms and legs stacked up outside the door. It’s the damnedest, bloodiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
She took a moment of joy at the warmth of his big hand. “Yes. It’s a terrible thing.” She saw in his eyes the deepest of friendship. Yes. He knew. Of course he knew. “I’m glad Abbie is fine,” she told him. He knew that she was sincere. “Father and I will pray for your family this evening when we retire.” She rose and tugged at his hand. “Now, you come and let Father patch up your back. I’ll fix up a bed for you.”
“I don’t need a bed,” he answered. “I’ll spread out my bedroll some place on the floor. That’s all I need. I’ll be fine. Save the beds for the ones in a bad way.”
She sighed. “I had forgotten how much Indian you are, Zeke Monroe. Now I’m remembering that very savage-looking man who did some rather gruesome things to a band of outlaw
s that had captured me. I remember how frightened I was of you that day.”
He flashed the handsome grin again, and in spite of his tired eyes and a face that was thinner from too much travel and worry, he was still the disturbingly desirable man she remembered, still as tall and strong, as hard and yet gentle, as fierce looking and dark. He was still Zeke.
“I … still have the necklace you gave me,” she found herself saying.
He squeezed her hand gently. “Good. I give such gifts only to those I love and respect the most,” he replied.
She blinked back tears. “Go and see Father. I’ll get your things off your horse and I’ll take your horse out to the shed in back where it can eat. I’m so happy to see you again, Zeke. So glad God sent you here to our door so that we could be the ones to help Danny.” She suddenly let go of his hand and hurried out the door. The sight of a lovely, soft woman who cared about him made him long for Abbie even more, and he felt an even stronger urgency to get back to his woman. He loved her. He needed her desperately. And most of all, he needed to know that his Abbie was all right.
It was not until three days after his surgery that Danny opened his eyes for the first time, unaware that he’d been stitched up like a quilt and that water and hot broth had been forced down his throat faithfully by Zeke and Bonnie. The first thing he saw when he came around was an Indian, who stood at a nearby window. The man was shirtless, his long, black hair brushed out and hanging over the bronze skin of his back. For a moment Danny just stared, trying to get his bearings. He thought perhaps he was back at Fort Laramie, and the man he was looking at was one of the Sioux or Northern Cheyenne with whom he had had many dealings. He blinked and quietly glanced around the room, noticing other men were in the room then, all lying on beds and patched up one way or another from injuries. He moved slightly and pain ripped through his abdomen, and it was then the reality of his situation hit him.
He groaned from the agony of it—not just his horrible injury, but also the fact that he must be in some kind of hospital among others who were wounded and dying. Now he remembered the horror of the sword, the ugliness of all the battles, the pain of seeing mere boys gouged and torn and ripped to pieces by shells and shrapnel and swords. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined the hell he had seen in this war.
The tall, dark Indian man at the window turned and came toward him when he cried out, and at once a strange new life began trickling through Danny Monroe’s veins.
“Zeke!” he whispered, reaching out a shaking hand to his favorite brother. Zeke took his hand and stooped down beside Danny’s bed.
“Are you truly awake, Danny?” he asked.
“Zeke,” the man repeated, tears coming to his eyes. “How on earth.… why are you … here? Where are we?”
“We’re in Virginia, and you’re in a fine hospital where you’ll get good care.” He smiled, his own eyes watery with tears of relief. “I’ve been searching for you for months, Danny.”
“But … how … why?”
“Take it easy, brother. You’re full of stitches.” Zeke squeezed the man’s hand. “Emily came to us last fall and told us you had been wounded and captured. She asked me to see if I could find you. I owe you a lot, my brother. I had to come and try. But it was a damned hard job, I’ll tell you. And when I found you, you’d already been given up for dead. You’re badly wounded, Danny. You’ve got to stay in bed for a good long time.”
A tear slipped down the side of Danny’s face. “Emily?”
“Emily is fine. Some good friends of her father escorted her to our place, and I saw that she got back safely before I left to look for you.” He winked. “She’s one beautiful woman, Danny. A little too delicate, but I can see why you had to marry her.”
Danny smiled, but the tears wouldn’t stop coming. “My … Jennifer?”
“Pretty as a picture—fine and healthy. Don’t worry about them, Danny. Don’t worry about anything but getting well. That’s going to take some time. I’ll get word to Emily that I have found you and you’ve received some help.”
Danny closed his eyes. “I’m … sorry. I …” He put a hand to his face, embarrassed at his tears. Zeke kept tight hold of the other hand.
“I’ve been bad wounded before myself, Danny. And I’ve wondered if I’d ever see my woman again—see home again. I know how it feels. When a man’s beat down from fighting and wounds, he’s got a right to feel bad. If you think I’ve never shed a tear in such times, you don’t know me too well.”
“It’s just … this war … Shiloh … that filthy prison and the pain when they … worked on my gunshot wound. They … didn’t give me anything … for the pain.”
“Don’t talk about it, Danny. It’s over. You’ll not be going back into that damned war. I don’t even want to know what’s happened to you over these past months. Don’t talk about it now. Save it for when you’re better.”
“I…don’t know… how or why you …found me,” the man replied, sniffing and wiping at his eyes. “Goddamn, Zeke, you could find a half-buried penny in the middle of the Great Plains if somebody asked you to.”
Zeke grinned, releasing the man’s hand to dip a clean cloth into a bowl of cool water. He wrung it out and leaned over to gently wash his brother’s face. “It wasn’t me that found you, Danny. It was the spirits, guiding me. I prayed every day, followed my senses and instincts, acted on what I considered guidance from the spirits within me. And you can bet my Abbie has been praying every day to her own God.”
“I’ve … been around the Indians … long enough to know there’s no difference … between our God and your God,” Danny replied.
Zeke chuckled. “Maybe not.” He sponged around Danny’s neck. “At any rate, man doesn’t accomplish things all alone. If we didn’t have an inner strength and guidance, we’d never make it.”
“That sounds … strange … coming from a … knife-wielding, bloodthirsty … son of a bitch … like you,” Danny answered.
Zeke laughed harder. “You’re definitely feeling better!” he commented. “Now you’re starting to talk like the Danny I know.”
Danny reached up and grasped his wrist. “Zeke,” he spoke up, sobering then, his eyes pleading. “Take me home.”
Zeke shrugged. “To Emily? Of course I will—just as soon as you’re well enough to travel.”
“No,” Danny replied. “Take me home … to the old farm.”
Zeke lost his smile and stood up, pulling his hand away from Danny’s. “That’s out of the question. You’ll stay here for several weeks. You’re in a very good hospital. Then I’ll take you to Emily.”
“Zeke … please … listen to me,” Danny answered, his voice growing weaker. “Please, please … hear me out.”
Zeke sighed and layed the wash cloth back in the bowl. He knelt back down, but his eyes were still hard. “All right. Speak your piece, but you know I can’t go back to that farm.”
Danny considered telling his brother how lonely his white father was—how much the man loved Zeke and wanted to see him again. But he knew that would only make Zeke angrier, and he didn’t want him to walk away.
“You … were always the one … talking about what’s practical,” Danny told him. “Be … practical now. I’ll be … weeks recovering. Maybe I’ll even die after all.”
“Don’t talk stupid. I won’t let you die.”
“It’s not … your choice. All kinds of things … could happen yet. Don’t you want to get back to Abbie? My God, Zeke.… how long have you … been away from her?”
Zeke sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “Eight months—something like that.”
“Jesus, Zeke, you’ve … got to get back to her. And me … I’d recover a lot faster … if I was … home on the old farm. I’d have … Pa there to take care of me … be in familiar surroundings. I’d be safe there … and you could go on home where you belong. And … if I should die … I’d die in peace in a place I love. Lenny’s dead, Zeke, and God only knows … where Lance is. It’
s important … that Pa see me soon as he can … important he knows … I’m alive. Tennessee … isn’t that far, Zeke. You could … pack me onto a travois. I’d be all right traveling that way. And you … you mean bastard … you’d make sure I got there all right.”
Zeke stared at his ailing brother. “Danny, I promised myself along time ago I’d never go back there,” he told him. “You don’t understand. I’d rather fight ten men than go back there. I’d rather finish this war than to go back there. I can’t do it. I can’t … look at him.”
“Would you … rather sit here … for weeks with me? Wouldn’t it be better … to risk how you’d feel … going back, than to go even longer … without seeing Abbie … the ranch … the kids?”
Zeke stood up and paced a moment, going to the window and then returning to kneel back down beside his brother. “You could just stay here until you’re better—then go home on your own.”
“My God, Zeke … don’t you … understand?” His eyes teared again. “If you knew … what I’ve been through. Damn it, Zeke … I just … want to go home. It means … nothing to you. But it means … so much to me. He’s my pa. I love him just like you loved … your Cheyenne stepfather … and your Cheyenne mother. I’d … get well … so much faster there. And if I’m to die, I want to die there. Jesus, Zeke, I came here to fight for Tennessee. Doesn’t that … tell you … how much I love it? How much I love that … farm … and Pa? Why is it so much … to ask you … to take me there? Just take me there … and you can go home to the place you love … to Colorado … to Abbie. Use your head, Zeke.”
Danny’s eyes closed for a moment, and he suddenly felt weak and light-headed. He had talked far too much for this first awakening, yet never had home sounded so good to him. He’d risk anything now to get there.
“I’ll think about it,” Zeke answered. There was no reply. Danny’s eyes were closed, and Zeke leaned closer, alarmed. “Danny?”
Embrace the Wild Land Page 27
