Embrace the Wild Land

by Rosanne Bittner

  The mention of his family wiped away all of Zeke’s hardness and hatred. He grasped Lance’s shoulders. “Abbie? You’ve … seen Abbie? When? Where?”

  Lance laughed lightly. “Last winter. I was with a troop of Confederates that got cut off by Union soldiers as we were headed back East from New Mexico. We had been part of the South’s unsuccessful attempt to take and hold the forts along the Santa Fe Trail. At any rate, I was wounded pretty bad. We rode to this little ranch along the Arkansas River. The snow was so damned deep we couldn’t go any further. The place turned out to be yours. I didn’t know it till I came to a couple of days later and found out it was your own wife who took a bullet out of me. She’s a hell of a woman, Zeke. God works in mysterious ways sometimes. I hadn’t seen you since I was ten years old, and there I was in your house being nursed by your wife.”

  Zeke’s eyes teared. “My God! You saw her? You truly saw Abbie?”

  “I just told you so, brother. And I sure can see why you married her.”

  Zeke turned away, and Lance knew the man didn’t want him to see the tears in his eyes. “How … was she?”

  “Fine. Just fine. They were all fine, Zeke. And your son—Jesus, he’s as Indian as you. When I first looked at him, I thought it was you. That’s how I remember you, because you were so young when you left here.” Lance sobered then. “I will say, the boy is the same kind of scrapper you were. He got into a fight with one of the soldiers who, uh, insulted your daughter, I’m sorry to say.”

  Zeke stiffened and turned, his dark eyes cautious and concerned. “What do you mean?” he almost growled.

  “Don’t go getting all excited, brother. My commanding officer took care of it, and everybody is fine.”

  “Took care of what?” Zeke asked, his anger building. Could this be the event that had alarmed him in his sleep? But how could it be? The dream had only been two weeks ago. Lance had been at the ranch during the winter.

  “Took care of the fight and the insult,” Lance was saying. “You have one hell of a beautiful daughter, Zeke—two of them, in fact—Margaret and LeeAnn both. And who the hell would believe that LeeAnn even belongs to an Indian? She looks more like she belongs to Danny than to you, with that blond hair and those blue eyes.”

  Zeke’s mind raced in confusion. How he hated Tennessee and this farm! Now here was Lance telling him he’d seen Abbie, seen his ranch, seen his children. And there had been trouble! He had not been there to help. His anxiety to get home made him feel as though he could not breathe. “What happened, Lance?” he asked, grasping the man’s arm firmly.

  Lance sighed. “I probably shouldn’t even have mentioned it. It was just one of those things, Zeke—you know, a pretty young girl, a lonely soldier. Your daughter—the dark one, Margaret. She had an eye for one of the men, that’s all. The bastard was nice to her—till he got her alone. Then he got fresh—scared her some, that’s all. He didn’t hurt her or anything like that. But he insulted her pretty bad, I’m afraid. Called her squaw—you know. I’d have landed into him myself, but I was still recovering from my wound. Besides, that son of yours got to him first.” Lance grinned and shook his head. “The kid would have killed him if they hadn’t been pulled apart. That boy is the strongest fifteen-year-old I’ve ever seen.”

  Zeke turned away, his heart heavy for poor Margaret, but full of pride for his son. So Wolf’s Blood was doing a fine job of protecting his mother and sisters. That was good. “He’s sixteen now,” he told Lance in a strained voice. “And he’s as much a man as you and I.” How he missed his son. How he missed all of them. And Abbie. “Are you sure my daughter wasn’t harmed?” he asked.

  “She’s fine, Zeke. Really. Just hurt pride. But your wife talked to her. I think she made the girl feel better. Your wife has a way with words. She’s a hell of a woman, Zeke. I envy you, brother. If I could find somebody like that, I’d settle down, too.” He put a hand on Zeke’s arm. “Hey, they’re OK, Zeke, really.” He sighed deeply. “I probably shouldn’t even have told you. That’s no way to get you to stay.”

  Zeke turned. “It isn’t that, Lance. I’m sure they were all right when you left. But … I’ve had this feeling. I had a bad dream. I’ve had them before. I can’t help thinking something else has gone wrong. Something much worse than what you’ve told me. I feel it in my bones and I don’t like it. I’ve got to get back to them—as fast as I can ride without killing my mount.”

  Lance frowned and nodded. “Sure. A man gets those feelings sometimes. And I guess if I was married to a woman like your Abbie, I’d be anxious to get back, too.” Lance wished he’d known Zeke in his growing up years. Here stood the man who had been the subject of stories and rumors in Tennessee for years. Here stood the long lost brother. Looking at him now, Lance could not imagine the gentle white woman named Abbie lying beneath this tall, broad, fierce-looking Indian man who had probably killed so many men he had no idea of the count. He smiled. “Thank you, Zeke, for finding Danny. Someday I just might come on back out West. I expect Danny will return to Fort Laramie when he’s able and this damned war is over—if the army will take him back, that is.”

  Zeke forced a smile, but his eyes were watery. “They’ll take him. He’s a damned good soldier—one of the best.” He looked at his younger brother. “I’m glad to see you, Lance—see how you turned out and all. You’re a good man—a lot like Danny.”

  “And so are you a good man,” Lance returned. “Doesn’t that tell you something about our pa? We all came from the same seed, Zeke. Pa is a good man, too. You just could never see it in him.” He saw Zeke’s eyes hardening again, but he was determined that Zeke make some kind of amends with his father before leaving. “Look at it this way, brother. Your kids are all half-breeds, too—maybe a little less Indian than you, but they still have Indian blood in them. How will you feel if one or more of them someday turns and blames you for all their misfortunes, just because you fathered them? Wouldn’t that hurt a hell of a lot?”

  He saw a flicker of understanding in Zeke’s eyes. “I know what you’re saying, Danny. But I have kept my children in a place where it’s easiest for them to live.”

  “You kept them there partly because you love it there yourself. Pa loved it here. That’s the only difference.”

  Zeke sighed. “I’m going to pack my gear.” He turned away, and Lance started to speak up again. But then someone yelled from the bushes.

  “Zeke! Zeke Monroe! Halt where you are, half-breed!”

  Zeke stopped in his tracks, and both men turned to look toward the voice. Neither man had a gun in his hand, but Zeke wore his knife at his waist. A man emerged from the underbrush, and Zeke’s heart froze. The man had not changed much. There was a resemblance to Ellen. Ellen! This was her brother! It all happened quickly then. The man came toward Zeke, holding a shotgun on him.

  “I’m gonna blow your guts out, you goddamned, murderin’ half-breed!” the man swore. “You forced yourself on my sister and run off with her. Then you killed her, you damned savage—tried to put the blame on those poor men you murdered.”

  “They murdered Ellen, not I,” Zeke returned. “I loved Ellen!”

  “You lyin’ half-breed scum!” He raised his rifle. For the first time in his life, Zeke Monroe hesitated. He could easily kill the man by landing his knife in him before he could even pull the trigger. But the fact that he was Ellen’s brother caught in Zeke’s heart and he could not make his hand move for his weapon. Suddenly Hugh Monroe was shouting at the man from the porch, running down the steps and wielding his own rifle.

  “Terrence Huett, you son of a bitch, put that shotgun down!” the elder Monroe shouted, a new spring to his step. His defense of his son suddenly put added life in the old man’s veins. “You pull that trigger and I’ll shoot you myself.”

  The moment of anger and hatred was too intense for any of them to think rationally. Terrence Huett turned at Hugh Monroe’s shouting, and in his own bitterness he fired. He would not let Hugh Monroe stop him from k
illing the half-breed who had ruined his sister’s life. Zeke stared in shock as a hole exploded in red blood in the middle of his father’s chest. Hugh Monroe took two more steps, then slumped to the ground.

  “Pa!” Lance gasped, running toward the man.

  Zeke’s eyes widened, and he stood in torn confusion. The very man he hated the most had come to his defense, as any father would do, and in that moment he realized he loved the old man after all. Ellen’s brother turned his eyes back to Zeke, as he fumbled with a jammed gun. It was the only time in his life that Zeke suffered from indecision in a moment when quick action would have normally been his response. But this man was a part of Ellen. He could not bring himself to make a move toward the man right away. Everything happened in only seconds. He glanced back at his father, lying on the ground covered with blood. His father! His last words to the man had been cruel and hateful, and now the man was dying because he had come to Zeke’s defense. Zeke gripped his knife as Ellen’s brother raised his shotgun again, but then another shot rang out, and the man’s body flew backward, his neck and face instantly shattered and bloody.

  Zeke whirled to see Lance standing near his father holding his father’s smoking gun, tears on his face. There was a long moment of absolute silence until Zeke managed to make his legs move toward his father and brother. He came close to Lance.

  “I couldn’t … let you kill him,” Lance said in a choked voice. “After what happened … before … Tennessee would never have let you leave this time, Zeke. They’d bring it all up again—hang you. It had to be … somebody else. I … I won’t even tell the authorities … you were here.”

  Zeke’s heart swelled with love for this brother he hardly knew. “I … don’t know what to say, Lance.”

  “It was easy,” the man replied, his body jerking in a sob. “He killed my pa.”

  The terrible pain of regret stabbed at Zeke’s heart, and his own eyes filled with tears. He turned away and knelt down beside his father, whose eyes were open and still had a flicker of life in them. The old man was covered with blood, and his eyes looked at Zeke pleadingly. Zeke shuddered with overwhelming memories and almost unbearable regret. He bent closer, bringing his lips close to the old man’s ear.

  “I love you, Father,” he groaned. “Damn you! You … wanted to hear it. You’re hearing it. I love you.” He broke into sobbing and cradled the old man in his arms. For a brief moment Hugh Monroe reached up and patted his wayward son on the shoulder. Then his hand slid down and the life went out of him.

  Danny sat in a chair and watched while Zeke and Lance pounded in the cross at the head of their father’s grave. Then Zeke came over and knelt in front of Danny, reaching up and tucking the blanket around the man’s neck.

  “You want to go back inside?” he asked.

  “Not yet,” Danny replied, his blue eyes sunken and tired. “Life sure takes strange turns, doesn’t it, Zeke?”

  Zeke nodded and sighed. “I have to go, Danny. I’ve sent word to Emily. You should be safe here. I’ve got to get back to Abbie.”

  “I understand.” He reached out from under the blanket and they grasped hands. “Thank you, Zeke. What else can I say? I’ll be indebted to you forever. If you hadn’t come along, I probably would have been buried alive with those other bodies. It’s over for you now, isn’t it? You finally got your past out in the open and really looked at it?”

  Zeke squeezed his hand. “That’s true. A man can keep so much hatred and emotion buried that he chokes on it unless he throws it up. I was choking to death. All of a sudden I feel … I don’t know … free for the first time, I guess. Free of the past. Free of my love for Ellen. It’s like I can finally let go of her. Now all I want is to get back to my Abbie.”

  Danny grinned. “What man wouldn’t want to get back to Abbie? You’re a lucky man, Zeke.”

  Zeke smiled. “You didn’t do so bad yourself. A little spoiled and delicate, but she’s coming along.”

  Danny chuckled. “I intend to get well as fast as I can. And then we’re both coming back out West. Since I’ve been back here, I’ve discovered I, too, have a past to leave behind. I learned to love the West, Zeke. I’m coming back out.”

  “Good.” Zeke rose and looked at Lance. “Maybe I’ll be seeing you out there also sometime, little brother.”

  Lance looked at his father’s grave, then scanned the old, battered farm. He met Zeke’s eyes. “I just might come out,” he replied. “There’s nothing left for me here now. Maybe I’ll come out and help you run the ranch. I don’t know.”

  “Well, I’ve got one good man. But I can always use another—especially when he’s my brother.”

  They shook hands. “Take good care of that woman of yours,” Lance told him. “She’s a fine lady. And that’s a fine brood of kids she mothered.”

  Zeke nodded, his hunger for Abbie suddenly intensified to near painful proportions. Never had he missed her more! Never had he loved her more! Home. How good it sounded to be going home. “Take good care of Danny,” he told Lance.

  “You know I will.”

  Zeke glanced at Danny once more, love in his eyes. “Be seeing you, brother.” He walked to his mount and eased onto its back with graceful quickness. “As the Cheyenne would say, my brothers, nohetto. That is all. It’s over.” He looked from one to the other, then at his father’s grave and around the old farm. He looked at his brothers again. “Maheo be with you.” He whirled his horse and kicked with his heels. “Hai! Hai!” he shouted, getting the mount into a fast gallop. He left the old farm, and he was leaving Tennessee a free man at last. He headed West—to Colorado, to his woman.

  Twenty-Two

  Anna glanced up from her desk when Winston Garvey walked inside her office, irritated at the way he sometimes barged in uninvited, as though he still owned her business. “How did you get in?” she asked. “We aren’t open.”

  The man closed the door and heaved himself over to a chair, slumping into it and smiling at her. “You forget that I am an important man, my dear. People see my face at the door—they let me in.”

  She scowled. “I will have to talk to Benny about that. He shouldn’t let anyone in without my approval.”

  “Tut, tut, dear Anna. You have certainly become haughty and snobbish of late. Ever since you thought you got the better of me with your news about my half-breed son, you have walked around with your nose in the air.” He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped sweat from his brow. “But we both know the real Anna, don’t we?” he added. “Her nose belongs in the mud. She’s nothing more than a common slut who happened to fall into the good fortune of meeting a senator in Washington who gave her a start in her illustrious career.”

  Anna leaned back in her chair, picking up a thin cigar she had been smoking. She puffed it once, then put it out. “What the hell do you want, Senator? I’m trying to balance some figures here. I don’t have time for this.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “So much money that you have trouble keeping up with it?”

  She smiled. “My girls and I come high—let alone the gambling table earnings. But you know all that. Did you come for some kind of cut perhaps? I paid you off a long time ago.”

  “Oh, no, dear. I only came to gloat.”

  “Over what, pray tell?”

  He shifted in his chair. “Well, I just wanted to see the look on your face when I tell you I will soon have Zeke Monroe where I want him.”

  She watched him cautiously, deciding that this time she would show no emotion. “A man like you could never get the better of a man like Zeke.”

  “Oh, but I already have. Your, uh, ex-lover has gone off to the Civil War, you see. And while he has been gone, some of my men paid his ranch a little visit. Now I have his woman. Don’t you think a man like Zeke will come for his woman?”

  Anna paled slightly, feeling a sudden pity for Abigail Monroe, but she kept her composure. “Of course he will.” She feigned unconcern. “What’s that to me? It’s your problem, not mine.”r />
  “Of course it is. But, well, since this whole thing is kind of a secret between me and Handy and Buel, and since you were so sure the last time we talked that I could never get the upper hand on Zeke Monroe, I just thought I’d come and tell you about my success.”

  She snickered. “You brag too soon, my dear senator. Has the man come for her yet?”

  “He will come. I have a man waiting down at Bent’s Fort. He’ll know when Monroe has returned, and he will come to tell me. We’ll be ready for him.”

  She laughed harder. “You truly amuse me, Senator. You’d better hire yourself an army, because that is what it will take to stop Zeke Monroe.”

  “I have plenty of men. You realize, of course, the position you are in. Monroe will think you ratted to me. He’ll probably come for your hide before he comes for mine. And if he doesn’t kill you, I will—just as soon as I get my information from the man. I have played along with you long enough, my dear Anna. Once Zeke is dead, you will be the only one left who knows anything, other than the people who took the boy, of course. But they will die, too.”

  She refused to act frightened, knowing he would only take pleasure in it. “I don’t understand you anymore,” she spoke up, her smile fading to a sneer. “I always thought you were an intelligent man. But kidnapping that woman is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done. You should have let it all lie sleeping, you fat fool! What if that woman, or Zeke himself, does tell you where the boy is? What would it accomplish to kill the boy? How many people must you kill to hide the filthy life you lead behind closed doors, Senator? You might as well kill half the people you do business with.”

  His face darkened. “That is not the point, my dear. A lot of people know I am ruthless and underhanded. That doesn’t bother me. It has made me rich. What bothers me is that I have a half-breed son walking around someplace. Perhaps those who know would let it lie. But that isn’t enough for me. The fact that the boy exists at all is utter horror for me. I cannot allow it. I want that boy dead. D-E-A-D. Dead! I have only one son—my Charles. I would do anything, including risking my own life, to stamp out that half-breed boy and make damned sure my own son never finds out about him.”