Meet the New Dawn (41 page)

She scanned the entire circle. “I do not like the thought of leaving any of you, or of leaving my grandchildren. But transportation is easier now. I can ride a train most of the way, and I can visit with Bonnie. I would have Jason with me, and if my intuition is right, LeeAnn will be going along north with us because of Joshua.” She looked at the girl, who smiled and took Joshua’s hand. “She can wait there until things are settled regarding her marriage, so I will have her with me also.”

She looked toward the house, the main part of it being the original cabin she and Zeke Monroe had built together—because her Indian man had decided his white woman must settle in one place. “How can I … explain it?” she told them, her voice filling with sorrow. “If I am to … go on with my life … and rid myself of the terrible grief that still consumes me in the night … I must … leave this place, difficult as that will be. Here … everyplace I look … I see your father, standing at the corral, riding over a ridge, walking toward the house from the barn. I … seldom sleep in the bedroom anymore. Jason sleeps in there, and I sleep in the loft. I can’t bear to lie down on that brass bed … or on the bed of robes … alone.” She swallowed, and a tear slipped down her
cheek. “I have to get away from the ranch for a while, children. It’s the only way for me to truly be strong again. And I think … it would be good for me to go north and see Dan and Bonnie, who I am sure would help me settle there … and very good for me to help the Cheyenne all I can now. I choose the North, rather than the South, because of Dan and Bonnie … and because your father’s only living Indian brother is up there … somewhere. Swift Arrow has to be a very lonely and broken man. Dan says he lives alone in the hills and seldom comes down to the agency. To do justice to your father’s wishes and memory, I must go north and help the People, and see what I can do for Swift Arrow. Because of that, and because of the memories here that keep piercing my heart like swords, I am leaving the ranch. It just … isn’t the same for me … without Zeke here. Many things … have ended … for all of us.” She swallowed again, fighting not to break down. “And yet all of you are experiencing new beginnings.” She turned to Wolf’s Blood again. It would be so hard to leave him! “What will you do, Wolf’s Blood?”

He frowned, swallowing back his own tears. “I am not certain. But it is the same for me … here at the ranch. I see him … hear him … everyplace I go on this land. I, too, am wondering how strong I truly am. I think perhaps … I should leave also … for a while. For many years my Sonora has wanted to go to the Apache reservation and find some of her people. Perhaps I will take her there. But we will come back.”

There was not a dry eye in their little group. But none of them would try to stop their mother; for not only was she stubborn once she had made a decision, but they also knew she was right to go. She would never be truly strong and free of her grief as long as she stayed at the ranch. Abbie wiped at a tear and nodded.

“It’s settled then. And the sooner the better, before I let memories and sentiment make me stay. But I do need some things from Fort Lyon.” She looked at Joshua. “Can you wait another week or so?”

He nodded. “If you’re sure.”

“I am sure.” She put on a smile. “Now, let’s sing some songs—some of those funny ones Zeke taught us that always
made you children laugh when you were little. We’ll teach them to the grandchildren.” She took a deep breath and belted out the first line of “Big Rock Candy Mountain,” and the others forced themselves to sing with her, about busy bees and gumdrop trees. Abbie’s eyes wandered as she sang, gazing out across flat land to a spot farther up the creek where overgrowth hid a special place, where the grass was soft and irises bloomed, where once she had lain on the soft grass beneath her man.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Wolf’s Blood filled three parfleches with the supplies his mother needed. Fort Lyon was teeming with travelers, soldiers, and settlers, and he had had to stand in line at the supply store, frustrated that this place was getting as bad as a regular city since the railroad went through. He nodded to a few people that he knew, for the Monroes were well known around the fort now. Rarely did Wolf’s Blood come here without someone commenting about Zeke—how they missed him, what a respected man he was, sharing a story here and there of how they’d seen Zeke use his knife. The constant questions and reminiscing always brought Wolf’s Blood great pain. Yes. Going south was a good idea for now. He must get away from all this. The vision of his father’s burial place often haunted him, the memory of lifting the cold, stiff body of what was once a warm, powerful man.

He went into the tavern for a beer before beginning the hot ride back to the ranch. 1880 had brought a hot summer, and he was glad his mother could make most of her trip by train. He had brought back the buggy Joshua had rented, his own horse tied to it, and would return on his mount, loaded down with supplies. He sat down at the bar and ordered a beer from Luke McCabe, the same man who had served drinks there for many years and who knew Zeke well. Wolf’s Blood prepared himself for the expected.

Luke shook his head. “Sure do miss you pa, Wolf’s Blood,” the man said. He made the comment every time Wolf’s Blood
stopped there. “You know, when he walked in this place, everybody turned and looked.” He laughed. “You have the same effect. Not many Indians around as big as you, Wolf’s Blood, and you’re as good-lookin’ as your pa was. I’ll never forget that time you and your pa got in them wrestlin’ contests and you ended up with that pretty little Apache girl. How’s she doin’, son?”

Wolf’s Blood downed the beer. “Sonora is fine,” he replied.

“And your ma?”

“She is well. She is preparing to go north to see my father’s brothers and to stay awhile. It is hard for her on the ranch. Too many memories.”

Luke nodded. “I can understand that. But this whole area won’t be the same without Zeke and Abbie Monroe. It’s a shame. Everything is changing, Wolf’s Blood. And believe it or not, a lot of white men like myself don’t like it any more than the Indians. It’s a damned shame, that’s what it is.”

Wolf’s Blood nodded and shoved the glass out for another beer. Luke filled it from a barrel and set it in front of him. “Say,” the man said, leaning forward on the bar, “there was a man here earlier this mornin’, asking about your place, where it was and all.”

Wolf’s Blood frowned. “A man? Who?”

“Well, sir, he wouldn’t say.” The man scratched at his whiskers. “He was kind of an ugly cuss. It wasn’t so much his looks as his eyes—kind of crazylike, you know. He was real well-dressed, like a rich man. Asked a bunch of questions about you people—the ranch—asked if your sister LeeAnn had got back. Well, since I’d just seen your brother-in-law Hal here a few days ago and he told me LeeAnn had come home, I had to tell the fella’ yes, she was home now. His eyes kind of glittered like he’s just won somethin’. I thought that was kind of strange. He asked me which way to the ranch and how long did it take? Seemed to be in quite a hurry all of a sudden.”

Wolf’s Blood’s eyes darkened. “Did you notice if he walked with a limp?” he asked.

Luke frowned, rubbing his chin. “He not only walked with a limp, he used a cane,” he replied. “Did I do somethin’ wrong, Wolf’s Blood?”

Wolf’s Blood stood up, leaning closer. “Luke, if it’s true that you held my father in high regard and if you were a true friend, which he thought you to be, you will tell no one else what you have told me.”

Luke blinked, seeing a warning look in Wolf’s Blood’s eyes. Like his father, Wolf’s Blood had a way of often convincing people with just a look to do what he asked. The man swallowed. “I won’t say a word, Wolf’s Blood.”

“No matter what?”

Luke shook his head. “I never saw the man.”

Wolf’s Blood grinned. “Did he leave?”

Luke nodded. “Said somethin’ about rentin’ a horse from here and leavin’ soon as he could.”

Wolf’s Blood reached out and squeezed the man’s shoulder. “Thanks, Luke.” He turned and quickly left, and Luke watched after him, suspecting bad blood between the Indian and the stranger who had asked about the Monroes.

“I wouldn’t want to have that wild Indian after me, no sir,” the man mumbled.

Wolf’s Blood rode out hard and fast. The path to the fort commonly used by settlers had turned into a hard-packed wagon road. He took it, certain that a pampered man like Charles Garvey would stick to the easiest path. It had to be Garvey. There was no other explanation, and there was no doubt what the man had in mind. He was several hours ahead of Wolf’s Blood, but the man couldn’t be used to riding. He would tire more easily, take more rest stops along the way. He decided that if he kept up a steady pace, he would catch up to Garvey by nightfall. He coaxed his Appaloosa at a steady pace, first hard, then a little slower, then hard again, hoping the animal would hold out. It was a strong horse, the only kind they raised, but no horse should be run as hard as he was running this one. Yet he had no choice. He could not let Charles Garvey get to the ranch ahead of him. The man was half crazy. The things LeeAnn had told about him only confirmed that, and Wolf’s Blood had no doubt the man would come for her because of her betrayal. Why else had he come
looking for her alone?

He rode until dusk, then slowed the horse to a trot. He did not want to lose any time. He would ride until it was pitch black and beyond if necessary. He could not let the man get to the ranch. Perhaps Garvey would be friendly and apologetic, convince LeeAnn to go away with him, then kill her and the boy. The thought of anyone harming a child made him seethe with anger, yet LeeAnn seemed to have no doubt that Charles Garvey wanted to kill his own son, just because he looked Indian. He did not believe the child belonged to him.

He kept riding until he saw a small campfire ahead, several feet off the road. He slowed his horse, walking it up to the spot. A man rose, pointing a fancy rifle at him.

Wolf’s Blood stared back. He had seen Charles Garvey before: once in Denver when very young, when he beat Garvey up in the street; once when Garvey rode with Colorado Volunteers, who attacked Zeke and the family when they were riding through Kansas to join the Cheyenne for Wolf’s Blood’s participation in the Sun Dance; and once again, at Sand Creek! Yes. Sand Creek! This man had killed the young girl Wolf’s Blood was going to marry. And Wolf’s Blood had sunk a lance into this man’s leg and made him a cripple. It had been many, many years. But he had not forgotten the face. It had aged, but not changed all that much. He knew now what he must do, even though this man was LeeAnn’s husband. It made no difference. He had needed revenge for years. But he must be careful.

“I need to make camp for the night,” he told Garvey. “I thought perhaps I could share your fire.”

Garvey kept the rifle on him. “I don’t share anything with stinking Indians!” he grumbled. He tried to see the Indian better, thinking he looked familiar, but not sure why. It was too dark to see him clearly.

“I can pay you,” Wolf’s Blood told him.

“Pay me? I don’t need your rotten government handout. I have plenty of money. Now get away from here before I shoot you!”

Wolf’s Blood backed his lathered horse. “My mount is tired. I cannot ride him any further.”

“Then go make your own campfire!” Garvey barked.

Wolf’s Blood’s eyes glittered with hatred. “You would be wiser to let me share your fire,” he said in a threatening voice. “If I leave, you will have to always be watching over your shoulder, wouldn’t you? I might come back to rob you. If I stay, you win my friendship and have no worry. If you shoot me, you are in trouble. There are laws in this country now. I am an Army scout. They would investigate.”

Garvey frowned, a little confused. Wolf’s Blood hoped he would swallow the explanation. He wanted to talk to the man—find out what his intentions were. If not for LeeAnn, he would not hesitate to end the man’s life here and now, which he knew he could do even with the rifle pointed at him. Garvey backed up.

“All right, get down,” he told Wolf’s Blood. “But stay across the fire from me.”

Wolf’s Blood swung his leg over the horse and walked carefully over to the fire. “I am grateful,” he told Garvey.

“Sure, sure! You thieving redskins are all alike—always got your hand out asking for more. Our government hands you everything on a silver platter, and it’s not enough. What are you doing off the reservation, anyway?”

Wolf’s Blood sat down with a piece of jerky he had taken from his parfleche. He bit into it. “I am a half-breed. They let me be free if I scout for the Army. But there are also other ways to make money.”

This seemed to change the light in Garvey’s eyes. “Yeah? Like what? Running whiskey, maybe?”

Garvey set the rifle on the ground beside him as he also sat down, picking up a tin cup of coffee.

“Maybe,” he answered. He chewed quietly, while Garvey watched him carefully. He was a wild-looking thing, strong and tough, probably one of those restless warriors who had to get free and raise a little hell once in a while. And breeds were sometimes wilder and more vicious than full-blooded Indians, willing to take part in deceitful operations that purebred ignorant savages could not understand. A plan began to formulate in his mind. Why should he take the risk of killing LeeAnn himself? Why not blame it on an Indian?

“Say, half-breed, you wouldn’t be looking for something more exciting than scouting at the moment, would you? It pays well. A thousand dollars if you’ll do it.”

Wolf’s Blood stopped chewing, feigning an eager lust for money. “A thousand? I could not make that much in my whole life from scouting.”

Garvey’s eyes glittered, and he was suddenly smiling and friendly. “I am a rich man. I can pay you that much. Five hundred right now. Five hundred when you’re through.”

Wolf’s Blood scowled. “What is this thing? Would it get me in bad trouble?”

Garvey grinned. “Not if we handle it right. I promise you. Tell me, do you like white women—like to get them naked, maybe?”

Wolf’s Blood quelled his killing urges. Not yet. Let this man reveal himself. “I have gotten a few naked,” he replied, now grinning wickedly. “Not all of them willing. When I see a pretty white woman, I get excited and want her.”

Garvey laughed lightly. “That stands to reason. I’ve heard about Indians and white women.” He leaned closer over the fire. “I’ll hand one to you on a silver platter—blond hair, blue eyes, a body that will make you crazy. And I’ll pay you to take her. You can do whatever the hell you want with her. But you must promise to kill her when you’re through with her. I will bring her to you myself. We can arrange a place to meet. And I want to watch, understand?”

Wolf’s Blood frowned. “Why would you do this? I could be hung.”

Garvey shook his head. “You won’t be. When you’re through, you’ll hit me a few times, then I’ll take her dead body back to Fort Lyon and tell them I was attacked by three renegade Indians, who beat and tied me then raped and murdered my wife before my eyes. I won’t name names. In fact, you don’t even need to tell me your name. That makes it all the safer for you. And I’ll give a description that doesn’t fit you.”

“You were going to kill her yourself?”

“Yes. But this gives me an out, don’t you see? I can have her killed and get away with it. But there’s one other catch, Indian,
and that’s why I’m paying you so much.”

Wolf’s Blood’s eyes narrowed. “What is it?”

“The woman will have a boy with her—a small boy who looks Indian. He must also be killed.”

Wolf’s Blood’s eyes hardened. “Indians do not kill small children. They take them for their own.”

Garvey sighed. “What’s one kid? Look, I’ll pay you fifteen hundred.”

Wolf’s Blood bit off some more jerky, acting as though he were considering it. He could hardly believe what this man was asking him to do. He was crazier than any of them had thought, and there was only one thing for Wolf’s Blood to do. He was glad to have such a fine excuse for doing it, for he had wanted to kill Charles Garvey for many years.

Garvey rubbed his hands together. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? It was perfect! He would get rid of LeeAnn and Matthew, and could blame it on Indians besides! It was the perfect way for poor Charles Garvey to lose his beloved wife and son. The papers in the East would eat it up, and he could start a whole new campaign against the Indians.

Wolf’s Blood slowly removed his Bowie knife, a fine gift from his father. Zeke would fully approve of Charles Garvey’s death, that was certain. He would do this for his father.

“The woman and child—they are your wife and son?” he asked Garvey.

“The woman is my wife. But she was untrue to me. The boy is not mine, so I don’t care about him. She ran away from me and I am very angry with her. Hell, you know what it’s like to have a squaw cheat on you. I’ve heard you Indian bucks cut off their noses—something like that. That true?”

Wolf’s Blood studied the knife in the firelight. “It is true.”

“Well we civilized white men can’t do those things. I am very angry with her. She deserves to die. You can earn yourself a lot of money, and get yourself inside a pretty white woman besides. You’ve got the best part of the deal. I don’t even know your name, and you don’t know mine, so we’re even. What do you say, breed?”

Wolf’s Blood smiled wickedly. The road was quiet now. Few people traveled this way at night. It was too dangerous in a land
that was still mostly lawless in places like this. He met Charles Garvey’s eyes. “I think perhaps we do know each other,” he told Garvey.

Garvey frowned. “What do you mean?”

Wolf’s Blood placed a finger against the end of the shiny, wicked blade of his knife, twirling it lightly as he held it in his other hand. “I am thinking of another time … Denver,” he said carefully. “I was sitting on a walkway, a small Indian boy. A bigger white boy came along, kicking a can. He was ugly … had a lot of red bumps on his face. He was a little bigger than I—then. He started calling me names. I jumped on him and beat him good, even though I was smaller. He ran away crying.”