Meet the New Dawn

by Rosanne Bittner

  She smiled slightly, in spite of the man’s obvious disapproval of her marriage to a half-breed. “Thank you. But I was fifteen. I married Ellen’s father that same year, at Fort Bridger.”

  He studied her closely. “You have a certificate of marriage?”

  Abbie bristled, reddening slightly. She did not want to spoil Ellen’s special day with anger. “I have.”

  The man cleared his throat and kept writing. “The name of your husband’s parents?” he asked Abbie.

  “His father was Hugh Monroe. His mother was called Gentle Woman. They are both dead, as are my parents. My mother Margaret died back in Tennessee. My father was Jason Trent. He died on the trip west.”

  “Religion?” He met her eyes again.

  “I am a Christian. I do not have the pleasure of attending church, as our ranch is too remote from such things. My Bible is my church.”

  “And is the father a Christian?”

  She met his eyes squarely. “My husband has his own religion. His God is called Maheo, although he has often mentioned he feels his God is probably my God also. My husband is a deeply religious person, Preacher Nathan, and believes in a Supreme Being. His faith has brought him through danger and pain, things most people could not endure. Because he is a half-breed, he has suffered physically and emotionally since he was a small boy, and I do not see what his faith has to do with my daughter getting married today. She is a good girl, a Christian in every way. Why don’t you just get the information you need about her husband’s background and let them get married? I have a feeling your questions are more out of curiosity than necessity.”

  The man reddened slightly and cleared his throat again, glancing at Hal Daniels and continuing his question. Ellen sat in anxious waiting, looking beautiful in a soft yellow dress Abbie had bought new for her in Pueblo, yellow flowers in her hair. The ceremony was finally over. A quiet dinner followed, after which Abbie assured them she was fine and they should go off alone and not worry about her. She would go to her own room, perhaps shop the next day, and gave them orders not to bother about her until they were good and ready. Ellen, her face flushed with love and excitement, gave her a quick kiss, and the two of them left her at the door to her hotel room, going to their own room and closing the door.

  Abbie stared at the door for a moment, remembering the first time she had taken a man. How different the situation had been. Yes, they were married—later. But the first time Zeke Monroe made her his woman, she lay in the grass somewhere in the wilds of Wyoming, and as far as she was concerned she was just as much his wife as if they’d seen a preacher first. She gave herself to Zeke Monroe in total love and devotion, heart and soul, not just body. No woman could have loved a man more, whether married in a church or not married at all. Her eyes teared and she turned into her room.

  Zeke sat in council, surrounded by several Southern Cheyenne, including his own cousin, Iron Hand, son of Dog Man, Zeke’s uncle. Dog Man was dead now, as were so many others, and Iron Hand and Zeke’s brother Swift Arrow were the only real family left among the full-blooded Cheyennes. Zeke had gone directly to the Black Hills and into the largest Sioux village there, as directed by Lieutenant-Colonel Petersen. Dan and a company of soldiers had already gone there to talk to the Sioux leaders, among whom sat Red Cloud himself, as well as Young Man Afraid of His Horses, Spotted Tail, and Red Dog. The point of the council was twofold: to convince the Southern Cheyenne to return to their reservation, and to talk to the Sioux about selling a large section of the Black Hills. George Armstrong Custer had discovered the presence of gold in Sioux country, and both Zeke and Dan knew that if the Indians did not agree to changing the territory of their reservation, gold-hungry settlers would come into Indian country anyway, breaking the current treaty and starting yet another war.

  The tension was thick. It was difficult for Zeke or Dan to argue with the Sioux, since deep in their hearts they knew the Indians were right. Already miners were streaming in, entrenching themselves along the streams and panning for gold. Dan had labored tirelessly in roaming the hills in search of illegal settlers, routing them out, fully aware that as soon as the soldiers left the miners would come back. The flow could not be stopped. Nothing was harder to halt than gold-seekers. It was impossible—as Dan knew it would be—to stop another war from breaking out, for the Sioux were not in the least interested in giving up more land.

  “What promise do we have that we will not be arrested or shot?” Iron Hand asked Zeke, questioning a return south.

  “Just my word, Iron Hand,” Zeke replied. “If anything goes wrong, I will turn on the soldiers and fight right by your side. You know I’ll do it.”

  The man nodded. Iron Hand was forty-two now, yet it seemed only yesterday that the man was ten or twelve, and Zeke’s father made a special trip to his village to work with the boy and teach him the Indian ways. It was often the custom of the Cheyenne for a boy to be trained by an uncle, just as Swift Arrow had trained Wolf’s Blood.

  “If you say this, you must be very sure no harm will come to us, Lone Eagle,” his cousin replied. “You scout for the bluecoats now, but we know that our brother whose knife is great medicine would not betray his People. He would not track us and bring us back just to be killed or put in chains.”

  Zeke nodded. “No, I would not. I only want to help, Iron Hand. I know many of my people want to go back home to their families. I am here to assure you it is safe to go, as long as no raiding is done on the way south.”

  “Many of them will stay with us and prepare to fight for Paha-Sapa!” Swift Arrow spoke up angrily. “The Sioux and the Northern Cheyenne will not give in. Not now! Not ever! Let Long Hair Custer come into these hills and see what happens when he tries to force us onto smaller reservations! We have a treaty. The Great White Father in Washington must honor that treaty!”

  “He wants to honor it, Swift Arrow,” Dan spoke up. “But there are so many whites east of this land, so many you could never count them. And a lot of them are determined to come here and find gold. I do all I can to keep them out, according to the treaty. That’s my job, and I work hard at it. But I can’t keep up with it, Swift Arrow. I would need thousands of soldiers to keep up with it. You must believe that we are doing out best; but just as you and Red Cloud and the others try to act according to what your people want, so does our own Great White Father. His people are crying out that they should be allowed to come here and look for gold. And there are many more of them than there are of you. In the end, our President will have to give his people what they ask for.”

  Swift Arrow glared at him. “An Indian dies before he breaks a promise! The white man breaks a promise as easily as he spits tobacco!”

  Zeke rubbed at his eyes. Things were much worse than he had thought. He was glad to have found Swift Arrow still doing well—almost too well, for his forty-eight-year-old half brother was still hard and strong. Like many Indian men he looked far younger than he really was—young enough and strong enough to fight, which he fully intended to do if necessary. That was what worried Zeke.

  “I have seen the East,” Red Cloud spoke up. His standing as a great leader, the man who had beaten the government and the soldiers once before in a fight for the Black Hills and Powder River country, commanded attention and respect. He was a handsome man, and Zeke fully believed the stories that Red Cloud, being such an honored warrior, had slept with many another warrior’s wife, causing more than a few marital problems among the Sioux. Yet for the most part, a Sioux warrior would consider it a compliment for such a brave leader to desire his wife. “I have been to the place called Washington, and have spoken to the Great White Father,” Red Cloud continued. “I have seen that there truly are many more white men than Indians, and they build great cities and have big guns and all the things they need to destroy the Indian. But they forget that the Indian is not afraid, and that when the Indian knows he is right, he will fight to the death. I have told your President our terms, and he did not accept them. Now we are bei
ng told we must go east of here to the Missouri River to accept our supplies. We are against this. We think this is a trick, to get us to go away from this place so that the soldiers and miners can take it over while we are gone.” He looked at Dan. “You tell your leaders we do not accept this offer. We will provide for ourselves. We will not go out of this land. If your leaders cannot bring their promised food and goods here to us, then we cannot accept them. This is just one more way the white man has broken the treaty. The treaty says nothing of our leaving these hills and going east for our promised goods.”

  Wolf’s Blood sat next to Zeke, his eyes dark, his attitude sullen. He was sorely tempted to stay with Swift Arrow, and if not for the memory of the agonizing winter his father had had and for his beloved Sonora, he would stay and fight with his uncle. He liked the feeling of imminent war, the thought of again riding down on soldiers and settlers and showing them what happens to those who try to betray the Indian. But he knew as well as his father that if there was another war it would be the last one for the Sioux, and although they might do well for a while, they could never win this time.

  Zeke looked at Iron Hand. “Are you going south with me?”

  The man looked around him and behind him at the Southern Cheyenne present who had fled Fort Sill and had fought at Sappa Creek. He spoke to them for a moment. Most of them knew Zeke. One asked if he still had whiskey to trade, remembering him from the months he had snuck into Camp Supply to deliver the firewater to them.

  Zeke shook his head. “I have told you many times the whiskey is bad for you. It makes you weak like women,” he told them, speaking in Cheyenne. “I only brought the firewater because I was trying to help catch the white men who sent the whiskey. The white men who supply you with that whiskey are bad men. They are cheating you. You should not trade robes and needed food supplies for something that will only destroy you.”

  Iron Hand held his eyes. “Sometimes there is nothing left but to drink the firewater if a man wants to be happy. But even with the firewater, we are not happy being away from our families. We will go back with you.”

  The dickering over allowing miners into the Black Hills continued until Red Cloud abruptly stood up and said the conversation was finished. There would be no one allowed into their land without a fight, nor would the Sioux go east to the Missouri River for their supplies. He walked off, most of his people following. Swift Arrow stepped closer to Zeke and Wolf’s Blood.

  “I am glad you could come, my brother,” he told Zeke, “even though it was not just to visit as it was the last time you came here. I am sad that it must be this way. I know you are trying to help in your way, and that you would not betray your own. I will be even sadder to see you go again, for this is the last time I will see you. My dreams have told me so.”

  There were suddenly tears in his eyes. Dan watched curiously, thinking Swift Arrow meant he would probably die in battle. But Zeke knew that the man meant it was the last time he would see Zeke alive. Swift Arrow knew the last time Zeke had visited him that something was very wrong, and both men sensed there was very little time left for Zeke. They had had a chance to visit alone before the pow-wow, and Zeke had finally told Swift Arrow the details of his illness.

  They clasped hands. What was there to say? The memories went back many years, to days of riding free, hunting, bringing meat to their mother. They had led very different lives over the years, yet had remained one in spirit, even to both loving the same women, one openly, one secretly.

  “We will be together always,” Zeke told the man, his throat aching. “One day we will ride the clouds together, Swift Arrow. Our horses will have wings, and there will be none faster. And nothing will separate us. There will be no war and no distance between us.”

  Dan turned away, sensing an intimacy he should not even be watching, unaware of the real reason the parting was so difficult for the two of them.

  “And what of Abbie?” Swift Arrow asked quietly. “You are her life.”

  Zeke released his hand. “Abbie will always survive.”

  Swift Arrow nodded. “I suppose. I remember the first day you came riding into our village, Crows chasing you. Her horse fell and she came tumbling toward me, then stood up and shot a Crow warrior.” He grinned. “I think of that scene often. I was not very nice to her in the beginning. I did not like a white woman being around. But soon I grew to respect her.”

  Their eyes held. Zeke knew he wanted to say that he also loved her, but he would not say it aloud, nor would he ever say it in front of Wolf’s Blood, even though the two of them had spoken of it once. Swift Arrow had said he would speak of it no more, and he had not.

  The man turned his eyes to his beloved nephew. “I am glad you have a woman, Wolf’s Blood, and a son and daughter. This is good. It is right that you go back. I can see in your eyes that you want to stay. But do not think I am foolish enough to think we truly can win another war. I know we cannot. But I will fight anyway. For your father’s sake, it is good that you go back—for him, for your woman and children, who need you. And one day soon your mother will need you also, for in your eyes she will see your father and will be comforted.”

  He took out his knife, and Zeke was not surprised when the man quickly slashed the weapon across his own chest. Dan glanced over and stared wide-eyed, unaware of why the man was displaying a sign of grief. He stood back with other soldiers, unable to hear what was being said, but suddenly aware there was more going on than a simple farewell. Swift Arrow pressed his fingers against his wound, then smeared streaks of blood on Zeke’s cheeks.

  “I show you now only a little of how I will grieve when I know my brother has breathed his last breath.”

  Zeke’s jaw flexed with emotion, his eyes tearing. Wolf’s Blood swallowed and turned away, fighting a display of emotion himself.

  “Ne-mehotatse,” Swift Arrow said softly to Zeke.

  “Zeke swallowed. “Ne-mehotatse,” he replied. “Ciksuya canna śna cantemawaśte yelo,” he added in the Sioux tongue. (“Whenever I remember you, my heart is happy.”)

  Swift Arrow nodded and turned to Wolf’s Blood, touching the young man’s shoulder so that he turned to face his uncle. He touched a streak of blood on each of the boy’s cheeks. “You are the son I never had. Your father let me have you for a while, and for this I am grateful. You brought light to my life. I will see you again, Wolf’s Blood, but there will be much sadness when I do. May the Gods be with you.”

  “And with you, my uncle,” the boy replied. A tear slipped unwantedly down his face and Swift Arrow quickly whisked it away with his thumb, then smiled.

  “Do not be ashamed. It is only tears of fear and cowardice that bring shame, not tears of love and sorrow. Go now. Stay with your father and take your people south. This is my home now.”

  He looked once more at Zeke, then turned abruptly and walked to his horse, mounting up and waving once before riding off. Zeke breathed deeply for self-control before walking back to Dan, who still stood staring.

  “What the hell was that all about?” the man asked.

  Zeke took some tobacco from a pouch and began rolling a cigarette. He didn’t feel like talking about it anymore. What good would it do to tell Dan and Bonnie? They had enough worries of their own. Right now Bonnie waited at Fort Robinson, probably worried to death about her husband riding into hostile Indian country.

  “Swift Arrow is just thinking he might be killed fighting,” he told Dan. “He felt this was out last good-bye.”

  “But … he cut himself. That’s the Cheyenne sign of mourning, as though someone else was going to die.”

  “He used it to signify himself this time,” Zeke lied. “I hope he’ll prove to be wrong. I’m worried, Dan, about this whole mess,” he continued, trying to veer the conversation in another direction. “Things are going to explode up here.”

  Dan sighed, lighting a thin cigar. “You’re right there, brother. And it’s all thanks to Custer. He spotted some flakes of gold in a creek and shouted
it all over the East through the newspapers. You know what that means. There are already miners all over these hills. I can’t keep up with it, Zeke. Red Cloud and the others are stomping mad, and I don’t even blame them.”

  “And Custer will do everything he can to make matters worse. He’s an arrogant cuss. I’ve heard plenty about him, ever since he attacked the Cheyenne at the Washita. Personally, I’d like to see him surrounded and scalped some day. It would serve him right.”

  “Well, you just might get your wish. He’s the careless sort—takes a lot for granted. He’d better not take these Sioux and Cheyenne for granted, I’ll tell you that. There are thousands of them in these hills, and they’re damned good fighters. And there can be thousands of them in the hills all around you without your even being aware of it. I wish I could get Bonnie to go east and get out of this mess, but she won’t leave my side, which makes me very happy but worries me, too. At least Joshua isn’t around.”

  “How is the boy doing?”

  Dan frowned, taking a puff on the cigar. “I suppose I ought to tell you, Zeke, that before he went off to college, Bonnie told him the whole truth about his identity.”

  Zeke glanced at Wolf’s Blood, who looked as surprised as Zeke was. “What did he say?” Wolf’s Blood asked.

  Dan shrugged. “Well, he actually took it quite well. I’d say he’s actually happy about it. But he said he wished he was part Cheyenne instead of Arapaho, because you’re Cheyenne and he thinks you two are the greatest warriors who ever walked.”

  They all laughed lightly, the spell broken over the sad parting with Swift Arrow. But there was still a gnawing pain in Zeke’s chest. There would be time for weeping later, when he was alone and could smoke his prayer pipe. He sobered again and puffed his cigarette.

  “I hope you warned the boy not to tell anyone else his identity—that it could be dangerous,” he told Dan.

  “We did. But I have to tell you, Zeke, that he deliberately went to a talk given by Charles Garvey himself in Washington. He actually stood up and argued with the man about Indians, without Garvey even realizing who he was talking to. Josh told us in his letter that Garvey was raging mad and they had a hell of an argument. I’d have loved to see it.”