Sweet Prairie Passion (Savage Destiny) (22 page)

“How about a hymn?” Abbie’s father asked after finishing a song. “We all ought to be glad we got across safely today. Any of you want to sing a hymn?”

“That’s a wonderful idea!” Mrs. Hanes replied. “We’ve done no praying or singing together or had any kind of church service since we started out.”

They all looked at each other a moment, realizing they had a preacher along; yet they were thirsty for hymn singing and to hear the Lord’s word. Mrs. Hanes actually snickered, aware that none of them, except perhaps the Browns, even cared to hear anything Preacher Graydon might have to say.

“How about Rock of Ages?” Trent asked. “You all know it?”

“I expect so,” Hanes replied.

Trent whined out the tune on his fiddle, and they all began to sing:

“Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in Thee.

Let the water and the blood,

From Thy wounded side which flowed,

Be of sin the double cure,

Save from wrath and make me pure.”

It was then that Zeke stepped into the firelight, silent as a panther as always. Most didn’t see him right away; but Abbie did, and her breath left her for a moment.

He’d put on a different pair of buckskin pants and moccasins. His shirt was buckskin also, but it was pure white. The front was beautifully beaded in a multitude of colors shaped like an eagle. It was the most beautiful piece of artwork Abbie had ever seen, if a shirt could be called artwork, and against the white shirt Zeke looked more dark and more handsome than ever. His hair was braided down his back and he was hatless, and that night he smoked a pipe instead of the little cheroots. He stood there, looking to Abbie like the grandest specimen of man ever to walk.

“Zeke! Come join us!” Jason Trent spoke up when he spotted him. “We’re just doing a little hymn singing.”

“We wondered if we’d see you anymore tonight,” Kelsoe put in. “You did a good job getting us across today, and we were a little worried over how wet you got.”

“I’ve been wet before,” Zeke said quietly, moving into the circle. Yolanda Brown watched him sullenly. “I laid my skins out to dry,” he added. “These are the only other clothes I had along. I don’t generally wear this shirt except for special occasions.”

“Well, I’d say getting across that river is a special occasion,” Kelsoe replied. “Jesus, Zeke, you look like a chief or something. That’s one hell of a grand looking shirt there.”

Zeke seemed a little embarrassed. He smiled and sat down on a log beside Trent, while Abbie stared transfixed at the striking man in the beautiful, white-fringed buckskin shirt.

“My Indian mother made it for me,” he told them.
“That’s why I generally keep it with me but save it for special times. It’s kind of a ceremonial shirt. You folks go on with your singing. I’ll just sit here and listen.”

“Do you know the hymn ‘Rock of Ages’?” Trent asked.

Zeke puffed the pipe. “I know it. I know lots of hymns. Back in Tennessee—” His face clouded somewhat. “Back in Tennessee … when I was little my … uh … stepmother took me to church. Told me I needed saving more than the average person because of my Indian blood.” He puffed the pipe again. “But the people at the church … they … uh … they finally made her stop bringing me—didn’t want a half-breed sitting in their pews.”

“That’s terrible!” Mrs. Hanes spoke up.

Zeke shrugged. “You get used to it.”

“Do you truly?” Abbie asked, hardly realizing she’d opened her mouth. Zeke met her eyes.

“No,” he answered. “I guess you don’t—not really. You just pretend you do.” He looked at Trent, forcing a smile. “Well, get going on that fiddle. Let’s hear the rest of that song. You folks sing right well together.”

Abbie’s father played the tune again, and little Mary Hanes, looking drowsy, walked over to Zeke and crawled up onto his lap, putting her arms around his neck and falling asleep right there in his arms while they sang:

“Could my tears forever flow,

Could my zeal no languor know,

These for sin could not atone;

Thou must save, and Thou alone.

In my hand no price I bring;

Simply to Thy cross I cling.”

Zeke stared at the fire, his arms around little Mary, his eyes looking distant and troubled. Abbie wondered if he was remembering being a little boy who was kicked out of church or, perhaps, thinking of his dead wife and son again.

“While I draw this fleeting breath,

When my eyes shall close in death,

When I rise to worlds unknown,

And behold Thee on Thy throne.

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in Thee.”

They all sat quietly for a moment when they had finished, Zeke staring at the fire until the spell was broken by Mrs. Hanes coming to gently take Mary from him and put her to bed. Zeke looked up at her and smiled, and Trent cleared his throat.

“You … uh … you got family then, back in Tennessee, Zeke?” he asked cautiously. “Brothers and sisters maybe?”

Zeke puffed the pipe and stared at the fire again. “I do,” he replied. “Got a pa and a stepmother, but I’m not sure if either one is still alive. I have three half brothers. The oldest would be about eighteen now, the youngest eleven. He was only six when I—” He stopped and puffed the pipe, and again no one spoke for several minutes, while Trent repeated the hymn on his fiddle. Yolanda and Willis Brown got up, leaving without saying good night, to join Willis’ parents, who
were already sleeping.

“Hey, Zeke,” Kelsoe spoke up, trying to lighten up the mood. “Tell the rest of us the truth, will you?” He grinned when Zeke met his eyes. “What would you have done today, when you got down off that horse, if Yolanda Brown had stood her ground and refused to go change.”

They all waited anxiously while Zeke puffed his pipe thoughtfully. Then he took the pipe out of his mouth and grinned.

“I’d have stripped her naked as a plucked chicken,” he replied flatly.

They all burst out laughing, and some laughed so hard they cried, including Abbie, who would have dearly loved to see Zeke humiliate Yolanda Brown that way.

That broke up the tired little group, and they all returned to their wagons with lighter hearts. Abbie watched Zeke’s white shirt fade off into the darkness. She was disappointed that she’d not had a chance to speak alone with him, but she knew he’d never allow her that chance either, if he could avoid it. She climbed into the wagon, surprised to see LeeAnn already inside and in bed. The girl had apparently returned quietly, not caring to face her father or anyone else. As Abbie crawled in beside her, she noticed dirt and grass in the girl’s hair, and it pained her heart.

She wanted to hate her sister, but in spite of how rotten she might think Quentin Robards was, she realized that LeeAnn truly thought she was in love with him. And Abbie knew that if she herself had a chance to lie in the grass with Cheyenne Zeke, she’d do it. It was Robards she hated, not LeeAnn. The whole situation
troubled her, so she turned her thoughts to Zeke, trying to picture him stripping Yolanda Brown right in front of everybody. That made her giggle again, and she snuggled down into the quilt to sleep.

Outside, Zeke watched her wagon longingly.

The journey became more difficult as they veered away from the Platte. Abbie could see why Zeke said they would begin to progress more slowly now. They were in higher country, hilly country. Zeke told them they were in the foothills of the Laramie Mountains. The land here was thick with pine trees, and between the trees and the grades, climbing the hills was difficult and treacherous.

Going down was even more treacherous, because the weight of the wagons pushed against the animals. Keeping the wagons from tipping was a constant problem; they had a high center of gravity, and the animals had to be maneuvered so they didn’t go at a sidelong angle down a hill.

Four days into the hills, the mules of the Kelsoe wagon driven by Bobby Jones grew stubborn and were out of control. The more Bobby tried to maneuver them into the right position, the more they balked, until suddenly the wagon started to tip.

“Look out below!” they heard Bobby yell. Luckily, according to Zeke’s instructions, most of the wagons were well behind the heavier Kelsoe wagons, but there were two other Kelsoe wagons in front of Bobby’s. Abbie screamed as the wagon went all the way over, breaking loose from its hitch, and the rest seemed to happen in slow motion.

The mules went one way, the wagon another, and at
first, no one was sure which way Bobby Jones had gone. The mules, still hitched together, scuttled off into the woods, while the wagon rolled and crashed and bounced past the two in front of it and on past Zeke, who managed to jerk his horse out of the way just in time to avoid flying debris. Dust flew, and the ground in the wagon’s downward path was gouged out. It seemed forever before the pieces of the wagon and its cargo all found a resting place at the bottom of the hill. Rocks continued to roll afterward, and at first there was nothing but noise and confusion as the rest of them struggled and whistled and cursed to keep their own animals still, cracking whips and hanging on to keep their teams from doing what Bobby’s mules had done.

To Abbie’s relief, when the dust cleared she saw Bobby staggering to his feet about halfway down the hill. Zeke was already riding up to the young man. He dismounted and caught hold of the dazed Bobby, who had bent over and held his head a moment before straightening up. Zeke helped him walk to one of the other wagons and spoke with Kelsoe a moment. Then the rest of Kelsoe’s wagons began slowly moving to the bottom, while Zeke rode up to the others.

“Is Bobby hurt bad?” Abbie asked anxiously, suddenly realizing how much she liked the young man who had paid quite a bit of attention to her and had always bashfully asked her to dance whenever they were playing music and celebrating. For a moment an odd look passed through Zeke’s eyes, one that Abbie did not realize until later was a flicker of jealousy. But it quickly vanished, as Zeke thought to himself that Bobby Jones was the perfect kind of young man for
Abigail Trent to get herself interested in.

“Got quite a bump on the head,” he replied. “But I think he’ll be all right. He’ll have to lie still for a while.” He looked upward and shouted. “Let’s get the rest of these wagons down—real careful! We’ll have to help Kelsoe gather up what’s left unbroken and divide it up—share the load for him. All of you can take a little extra in your wagon to help him out.”

Most nodded and agreed, but Willis Brown cursed the extra burden.

“Get the women and kids out of the wagons!” Zeke yelled out. “Willis, get your wife out of there. I’ll take her down easy on my horse. And I don’t want any arguments!” He rode the big Appaloosa up to Willis’ wagon, and to everyone’s surprise, Yolanda climbed out and onto his horse without a word of objection. Apparently she had learned not to argue with Cheyenne Zeke. She’d been quieter ever since she’d gotten dunked in the river, and Abbie wondered if the girl ever got upset with her husband for his uncaring attitude toward her. Perhaps they had had words, because Willis Brown had seemed to quiet down himself.

Zeke walked his horse down so Yolanda would not be jolted around too much, and the other women and children climbed out and walked down, while the men took the rest of the wagons down with no more problems. They all joined together to gather up Kelsoe’s cargo and were able to pack most of it onto the loose mules that Zeke and Olin had rounded up out of the woods. More was tied to the other Kelsoe wagons, so that there was little left to burden the others with.

The wagon that had crashed was practically in splinters, but they saved most of the wood, realizing it
could come in handy when they reached places where wood was not available for fires. The cleanup took most of the rest of the day, so they made camp right there, all of them sleeping hard because of the extra work the day had brought.

After witnessing Bobby’s wagon crash, everyone was jittery when they set out again the next morning. The going got rougher as they headed for the north fork of the Platte, and they were even more worried because Zeke had informed them that they would again cross the river at a spot where it curved southward across their path.

On their ninth day out of Fort Laramie, tragedy showed its face to Abigail Trent, the beginning of Cheyenne Zeke’s vision. How or why it happened was something that would haunt her for the rest of her life, and she would feel forever responsible, for she’d become the only mother little Jeremy had.

Her little brother climbed back into the wagon after it started rolling, yelling that he wanted to find a jacket that was too small for him.

“Jeremy Trent, you know you’re not to climb in and out of the wagon when it’s rolling!” Abbie scolded.

“I want to give Zeke that jacket!” the boy balked. “It’s for one of the Indian kids who might need it, if Zeke wants to give it to him.”

“That’s a fine thought,” Abbie yelled back as she walked along beside the creaking wagon wheel. “But you could have waited till we make camp.”

“I want to run and give it to him now!” the boy pouted.

“You’ll stay inside that wagon now!” Abbie ordered.
“You know the rules!”

The boy ducked his head back inside, rummaging for the jacket until he finally found it. He pondered disobeying his sister, which he seldom did. But he was filled with a child’s eagerness to give something to someone, and he’d heard Zeke talk about how cold the Indians got in the winter, especially the old ones and the children. He looked down at the blue stone necklace, wanting only to give Zeke something in return.