Meet the New Dawn (4 page)

She lay back and let him unbutton her gown and pull it off her shoulders and down past her breasts, revealing their full fruits. He liked undressing her, and she liked letting him, never failing to redden slightly in spite of the many times they had done this. He leaned over and gently tasted the sweet nipples as he pushed the gown farther down, running a hand over her stomach, soft from many children but still flat. Hard work and a tendency to be too thin all her life kept her slender still, in spite of her thirty-nine years and the many children. The gown came off, and his gentle fingers found that secret place that made her breathing quicken, as his lips moved up and over her throat, lingering there a moment before meeting her own lips. He kissed her hungrily then, urgently, groaning with the want of her.

He would not tell her where he had been—what the doctor had told him. Arthritis. He had never heard of such a thing. The doctor had said it could cripple him some day, maybe in two years, maybe in ten. He couldn’t say for sure. He could only give Zeke something to take when the pain was unbearable. Somehow he would hide the medicine from his Abbie. He would not tell her he had this strange disease that brought such fiery pain to his back and joints. He would fight it until there was no longer any way left to fight. When that
happened, he would find a way to die with honor. Somehow he must die fighting, or in some other way that was honorable. Zeke Monroe would not die lying crippled in a bed! Never! Honorable warriors did not die lying flat and helpless like women!

He would not think about it now; he could manage. Cold, the doctor had said. Cold and dampness made it worse. His back ached just a little now, probably from the cool rain that was falling. But at least this was May, and Colorado was usually dry. Winter was far away.

His wife’s breathing quickened and she whimpered his name as the lovely explosion rippled through her insides at his touch. Yes. He could still make love. He could still excite her. He was still a man. He moved on top of her, entering her almost savagely. This hated disease would not stop him from being a man to this woman who had sacrificed so much for him. He would continue to be one with her, continue to love and protect her to his dying day!

Abbie did not fully understand why he was being so urgent, why he was not quite as gentle as he usually was. Perhaps he was simply distraught over the children after all. Whatever the reason, he apparently needed her badly. She arched up to him, giving, giving, taking her own pleasure in return, for never did he do this to her without bringing her sweet ecstasy that always seemed new, as though each time were the first time. Always she felt lost beneath his broad strength, overwhelmed by his commanding nature, wanting to please the master of her heart and body.

It had taken a long time for her to be able to do this again, after she had been kidnapped, raped, and tortured six years ago, while Zeke was away because of the Civil War. That was another reason he suffered from guilt. Always he had been her protector and provider. Many times he had risked his life for his woman. But that one time he had not been able to help her, and his rage at what she had suffered had been mighty indeed. He and Wolf’s Blood had sought the men who had abused her, among them Zeke’s bitter enemy, Winston Garvey, a wealthy but notoriously criminal Colorado businessman, and an Indian hater. Garvey and the men who’d had a part in Abbie’s rape all
suffered terrible deaths under the blade of Zeke Monroe’s wicked knife. No one but Zeke and Wolf’s Blood knew what had happened to those men, or where the bodies were. And it was only Zeke’s gentle love and care that had brought Abbie back from near death after that—and his tender understanding and gentle coaxing that had enabled her to again give herself to a man in love and desire, after months of patient, loving waiting on Zeke’s part.

That was over now. They were one again, for nothing could truly separate them. And now he vowed that this thing called arthritis would not separate them either. And if the end came sooner than he wanted, he would always be with her in spirit. They were too close for even death to part them. But for now they were alive! Alive and well and he loved her! He pushed himself deep inside of her, wanting to touch not just her body but her soul. He came down on her, moving his hands beneath her and grasping her hips, pushing up while he whispered sweet Indian love words into her ear. Her slender white thighs were parted willingly, her beautiful eyes closed in ecstasy, her breathing coming in whimpers and groans as he ravaged her. This woman was his whole world, his reason for abandoning his Indian ways to live in one place so he could provide for her. She needed his love more than ever, and he would show her more love in the time he had left than he had ever shown her. Besides, he felt good this night—strong as ever. The doctor had said there might be several years left. He would think positively. He would keep the secret to himself and simply love her—totally, reverently, making her as happy as he could possibly make her. They would go to Fort Laramie, He would find Wolf’s Blood and perhaps be able to convince the boy to return with them. Then they would go home, to their little ranch on the Arkansas, on the green plains of Colorado with the Rockies outlining the horizon.

His life poured into her then. Thank God the disease could not stop him from this! He would be a man to her to the very end, of that he was determined. He was glad that several years ago in Denver she had had the operation that kept her from getting pregnant. Now he was free of the worry that she would have more children at a time when he didn’t know how much
longer he could provide for her.

He relaxed beside her, still half on top of her, their damp skin touching beneath the blankets, her face buried in his neck.

“Zeke Monroe, do you really expect me to get up now and go out to eat? You’ve worn me out.”

He grinned and kissed her nose, moving down and kissing her breasts. “Want me to go get something and bring it back?”

“Would you? We have such a long ride ahead of us yet. I just want to lie here and not get up.”

“Whatever my woman wishes.” He kissed her lightly then. “Don’t worry about LeeAnn and Jeremy. It’s useless to worry about something we can’t do anything about. They’re Monroes—strong and independent. They’ll be all right. And Bonnie did tell us it was a good school when she wrote us. She wouldn’t have gone to all that trouble making arrangements if she didn’t think it was best for LeeAnn. Maybe they’ll both be happier being away for a while.”

She sighed. “I suppose. It’s just so hard to let go, Zeke—so hard to realize your children aren’t babies any more. I want them with me, where I can protect them and be a mother to them.”

He got up and started dressing. “You lost your own mother at an early age and you did all right.”

“But I found you. I had my Zeke.”

A pain shot through his heart at the remark. “One thing you don’t realize, Abigail Monroe, is that you have survived on your own strength. You think it’s because you have me, but it isn’t. You’re a strong woman who will always survive, with or without me.”

“Well I much prefer it be with you, so don’t go getting in any fights out there on the street when you get us something to eat,” she replied, pulling the blankets over her naked body. “You do have a way of getting into trouble in civilized places. People look at you and think you’re going to take their scalps. If half those women knew what you’re like in bed, they’d not be so afraid of you. But luckily I’m the only one who knows what you’re really like. You don’t need to go proving it to any other woman.”

He laughed lightly, determined to forget about his doctor visit. “You sure you don’t want me to prove it to a few of them?”

“I’d rather they thought you might take their scalps.”

He pulled on his shirt and strapped on his weapons belt again. “Whatever you wish.” He walked to the door. “Keep this thing locked while I’m gone. I won’t be long.” He turned and met her eyes, still full of her, still warm from their recent lovemaking. “I love you, Abbie-girl. Sometimes that’s the best I can offer you, but if it was worth money, you’d be rich.”

She smiled softly. “I am rich. Your love is all I’ve ever asked for in the first place. I told you that when I was fifteen. I meant it then, and I still do. Now go get something to eat. You’ve made me very hungry, Mister Monroe.”

He gave her a wink and left, closing the door softly behind him. She breathed deeply, revelling in the remains of sweet ecstasy, curling herself into the soft sheets. Apparently it was only the children after all that had upset him. She prayed again that he would be able to find their wild Indian son. That would not be easy.

The plains rolled ahead of them like motionless waves in an ocean. It seemed with every huge swelling of land they climbed, another always lay ahead on an endless horizon, a sea of green and yellow. There was a time when such land would have been unmarked by civilization, but every now and then they spotted a crude house or a soddy, fences, and cattle. Once they would have seen thick herds of buffalo that might stretch for miles. Now there were only smaller herds, scattered here and there. They crested one hill and spotted what at first appeared to be a huge black hole in the distance, then realized it was buffalo grazing. Zeke reined his horse to a halt and watched, Abbie moving her mare up beside him.

“It all looks so peaceful,” she told him.

“For a little longer it will be,” he answered, sighing deeply. “I remember the days when my brothers and I would ride as far as we could go, hunting, just having fun. It was so good then, Abbie. I never felt so free and happy as those first years after I
found my mother and learned I had three Cheyenne brothers. Now look what’s left. Just Swift Arrow—at least we think he’s alive. Gentle Woman, Deer Slayer, Red Eagle, Yellow Moon, little Laughing Boy, Black Elk, Blue Bird Woman, young Bucking Horse, your good friend Tall Grass Woman, her husband and son. All gone. And why, Abbie? All because of white settlement—white man’s diseases, white man’s whiskey, white man’s lust for land, white man’s brutality. You can’t ride across these plains and run into great migrating tribes anymore, only smaller villages, full of the renegades, the ones who refuse reservation life, the ones who still cling to the old ways.”

“Don’t torture yourself, Zeke. Let’s just get to the fort. It’s only a day away now. Then you can see about riding into Sioux land and finding Wolf’s Blood.”

There was the sharp report of a rifle then, an unusually loud boom that cracked the crisp air and made the horses whinny and move nervously. A huge cow in the distance slumped to the ground, and the rest of the herd started running.

“Goddamned buffalo hunters!” Zeke growled. Three more shots were fired in quick succession, and three more of the animals went down as they ran, one stumbling forward and rolling head over heels. Zeke reached out and grasped Abbie’s arm. “Get down!” he ordered. “Those bullets are whizzing by us too close. Wherever those sons of bitches are, they might have seen you.”

They were quickly off their horses, Zeke leading Abbie and the animals down the hill a short way to a washout. Abbie ducked down inside it while Zeke coaxed the horses down, speaking to them in Cheyenne, using his expertise to get the animals on their sides. He crouched down in the washout beside Abbie then. Several more shots had been fired, and at least ten buffalo lay dead or dying below.

“Don’t make a move until I can see how many there are,” he warned Abbie.

They waited several minutes, then four men moved out from a ridge just below them, heading for the buffalo. Zeke and Abbie watched quietly for several minutes as the men rode up to the carcasses and dismounted, then began to deftly and
expertly skin off the hides.

“What a stinking waste!” Zeke growled under his breath.

“Oh, Zeke,” Abbie whispered, turning away. If anything would quickly destroy the Indian and force those left onto reservations, it was this. The buffalo was their lifeblood, every part of the animal used in some way. These men would take only the precious hide, perhaps some of the meat to sell to the railroad, then leave everything else to rot.

Zeke carefully removed his Winchester .44 rifle from its boot on the side of his Appaloosa gelding. He always preferred to ride
Kehilan,
but at times like this he needed a horse more subdued and easier to control, so he had chosen a sturdy gelding for the trip, putting Abbie on a roan mare. The horses LeeAnn and Jeremy had ridden had been sold at Julesberg. He was glad now that he had not brought them along.

“A sixth sense tells me there were more than four down there, Abbie-girl,” he said quietly. “Is your pa’s old Spencer loaded?”

“Yes.”

“Slip it out.”

She looked at him with worried eyes. He knew that she was thinking about the terrible ordeal she had suffered six years ago. “Not this time, Abbie,” he assured her. “You know better than to worry when I’m with you.”

She tried to smile for him, but he saw the fear there and it tore at his guts. He’d shoot her himself if necessary to keep anything like that from happening to her again. He braced himself against the side of the wash so he could see above them as well as below. He was almost certain they’d been spotted, for they had been in a position from which they could be seen without being able to see the hide hunters. There was a long moment of quiet while the men below went about their dastardly business, and Zeke was sure it was only a diversion. The hunters wanted the man and woman to think there were only the four of them and no more.

A moment later he got his answer. Three horses came thundering down toward them from above, showering them with dust and small rocks as they stirred the hillside. Zeke
stood up and took aim, firing once, slamming open and closed the lever of the rifle and firing again. Two men came rolling down the hillside, one lying dead close to Abbie, another rolling past them, while their horses ran on and kept going. The third man was on them by then. He swung a clublike instrument at Zeke, knocking him sideways. Abbie screamed, clinging desperately to the reins of their own two horses, which had lurched to their feet by then. Zeke’s wicked blade was out and he squirmed to his feet as the hunter raised the club again. Zeke ducked under the man’s horse, rolling between its legs and coming up on the other side to sink his blade into the man’s hip, pulling him from the horse as he screamed with the horrible pain of the huge knife ripping into him.