Meet the New Dawn (27 page)

He sighed and looked at the ground for a moment, then met her eyes again. “I can only promise the present. And I promise I will return with my father from the North.”

A soft breeze blew, causing the tiny bells her son wore
braided into his hair to tinkle. For a moment Abbie could hear drums and chants. She knew deep in her heart that the warring would not end without her son getting involved again at some point. And as she had always done with his father, she would have to simply take one day at a time and be grateful for that day’s blessings, trying hard not to worry about tomorrow. She turned to Ellen.

“I will go to Pueblo with you. You deserve that much. When we come back, you and Hal can stay in Wolf’s Blood and Sonora’s cabin until Hal has to leave again. Sonora and the children can stay with me in the house.”

Ellen hugged her. “Thank you, Mother!”

Abbie just looked at Zeke. Again he would go away. Again she would wonder if he would come back.

Chapter Sixteen

Abbie watched the ceremony with an ache in her throat. It seemed only yesterday that Ellen was just a baby. All she had was Jason, but even he was no longer a child—not at sixteen.

She buried her resentment at the preacher’s questions before he issued the marriage certificate.

“Nationality?”

“American.”

“The parents?”

“My father is Ezekiel Monroe. His mother was Cheyenne,” Ellen answered proudly, not afraid to tell him. “His father was a white man, from Tennessee.”

The minister had frowned and glanced at Abbie. “And you are the mother?”

“I am. Abigail Monroe. My maiden name was Trent, and I have no Indian blood. I came here from Tennessee in 1845.”

The man’s eyebrows arched. “You must have been just a baby.”

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 being 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.”