Sweet Prairie Passion (Savage Destiny) (42 page)

She sensed that Olin had left the wagon for a moment, and although she could hear Zeke breathing deeply, he said nothing. But he kept her still, gently stroking her hair until Olin reentered the wagon. She heard some scraping sounds; then something was pushed up against her back. She screamed again before she heard Mrs. Hanes’ voice outside saying she had some hot water. There were more voices, and Abbie floated in and out of consciousness as a great deal of commotion seemed to be going on around her. Then she heard a thud, and the arrow jerked some; and she screamed again.

“I’ve cut off the tail of the arrow, Abbie,” Zeke told
her. “Now you’ll have to be real, real brave, because I’ve got to pull this thing out of you. They don’t come out easy, Abigail.”

Her only reply was to cry harder.

“Hang on to her,” Zeke told Olin. “Kelsoe, you keep hold of her ankles.”

Abbie felt embarrassed because Kelsoe was there; she was aware that she was naked from the waist up. But their voices were gentle, and the grasp of their hands was gentle, until Zeke straddled her body and pressed his thighs tightly against her stomach and back to hold her firmly, then told the men to tighten their grips. When their hands tightened on her, her fear mounted and her body shook.

Then came the horrible, black pain, as Zeke tugged at the arrow, finding it difficult to get out despite his own strength. Abbie’s shrieks filled the pass, and she let out with a volley of cursing and swearing. She screamed that she hated them all for hurting her, that she hated Indians and the West, hated mountains and wagon trains, and she screamed at Zeke because he hadn’t just let her die.

Then there was one last jerk, and one last, long scream out of Abbie. After that, she felt her senses fading fast.

“She’s bleedin’ bad, Zeke,” came Olin’s voice.

“Get some whiskey on there and let’s bandage it tight!”

She felt hands quickly working on her and a terrible sting in her wound, then bandages coming around her breast and back.

“That’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” she heard Zeke saying, his voice actually shaking.

“She’ll make it, Zeke,” Olin replied. “She’s a fighter.”

“I … shot one.” Abigail recognized her own voice. She wondered who had moved her mouth.

“What?” Zeke asked.

“I … killed … one of those … black-faced … goddamned Crows!” Abbie groaned.

She heard Olin chuckle.

“Jesus Christ, she’s a regular Cheyenne at that,” Zeke commented.

Those were the last words she heard before she passed out.

Eighteen

The first time she opened her eyes again, Abbie saw Mrs. Hanes sitting near her feet, reading the Bible. The wagon was moving, and Abbie winced with pain when it bumped over a rock.

“Where are we?” she asked weakly.

Mrs. Hanes looked up and smiled. “Abbie!” She moved closer. “Do you know me, child?”

“Sure I do,” she replied, frowning.

“You’ve been delirious for two whole days,” the woman replied. “We’ve been so worried about you. How do you feel now, Abigail?”

She tried to move her left arm, but the moment she even wiggled her fingers pain shot through her shoulder and chest and she suddenly felt sick to her stomach. “Not … very good, ma’am,” she replied.

“Perhaps it would help you to eat,” the woman told her. “As soon as we stop, I’ll fix you some hot broth.”

A tear slipped down the side of Abbie’s face. “I hurt awful bad,” she whimpered. “I don’t want to be … a baby about it, but I never … hurt like this before!”

“Stay calm, Abigail,” Mrs. Hanes said soothingly, stroking her hair back from her face. “Of course you hurt. You have a very bad wound, and Zeke says it will hurt for quite some time. He figures you can rest up good at Fort Bridger, and he’s hurrying to get you there to a solid bed that doesn’t move. But it will be a rough ride and could be another seven or eight days.”

“Where are we?” she asked again. “Where’s Zeke? Was it him that took the arrow out?”

“Yes, it was, and a hard thing for him to do, I’ll say. I’ve never seen that man so shaken. Right now we’re headed out of the South Pass. Soon we’ll be at a place called Little Sandy Creek. Zeke says the trail forks there, going south to Fort Bridger, or west through a cutoff. But the cutoff is a rough route, and Zeke says it isn’t worth the time saved. We’ve been through enough, so he’s not taking any chances. Hopefully we’ve seen the last of our bad luck.”

“I want to see Zeke.”

“We’ll stop soon. You can see him then.”

Abbie closed her eyes and sniffled. “What happened … about the Indians … and Mr. Connely?”

Mrs. Hanes frowned, wetting a rag and gently washing Abbie’s face as she spoke. “Some of the Crow broke through,” she replied quietly. “Then they burned Mr. Connely’s wagon and dragged the man off, and I’m afraid we all just … watched.” Her voice faded and her eyes filled with tears.

“You shouldn’t feel bad, ma’am,” Abbie told her, feeling sorry for this kindhearted woman. “It would have been foolish … to interfere. Just think about
your children … them getting hurt or killed. You couldn’t have stopped all those Crow Indians. It’s like Zeke … says. Out here a person has to …be practical.”

“Yes. And that’s the hell of it,” the woman replied, surprising Abbie by using the word hell. She dabbed at her eyes. “Sometimes practical means going against what’s really right to do. I hope God can forgive us. I can see what a hard life it will be out here. Lord knows I’d not have come if not for my husband’s big dreams.”

“You must … love him a lot,” Abbie replied, wincing with pain again.

“Bradley is a good man. A man is always dreaming, Abbie. You remember that. If a woman stifles those dreams, she stifles him, and their marriage isn’t any good anymore. But if she lets him grow and stretch out and be free, he’ll always be at her side. If a woman is clever enough, she can have a man tied to her apron strings without his even knowing it.”

Abbie’s heart seemed to pain her as much as her wound, and she wondered which was wounded more. “There’s no tying down … a man like Zeke,” she replied.

Mrs. Hanes sighed and sponged around Abbie’s neck. “If not for his past haunts, that man would let you tie him down in a minute,” she replied. “I’ve never seen someone so worried as he’s been about you. He’s going to be glad you’re awake and coherent.” She felt Abbie’s forehead. “But he won’t be happy about this fever. You feel awfully warm, Abbie.”

“I’m … burning up,” Abbie answered, closing her eyes and already feeling tired from their little bit of talk. “Is everyone … all right?”

“Yes, My husband has a deep scratch on his cheek from a wood chip that flew when a bullet hit near our wagon. Willis Brown got a laceration in his leg from an arrow, but it isn’t serious. And so far Yolanda is still hanging on to her baby. But, of course, we lost Bobby.”

Abbie’s eyes rapidly filled with new tears. She thought of the sweet words he had spoken to her just before he died, and of his tender kiss. “Oh, poor Bobby!” she sobbed. “Oh, God, I feel so alone!”

“Please don’t cry, Abbie. I’m sorry I mentioned him. Crying will just make your wound hurt more, darling. It makes your body jerk. Please stay calm.”

“I want to see … Zeke,” the girl sobbed. “I don’t want … to wait! I want to see him now!”

She could not stop her crying, even though it did make the pain worse, as Mrs. Hanes had said it would. The pain, the memory of Bobby, and the realization that the time was drawing near when Zeke would leave her, all combined to drive her into near hysterical crying that could not be stopped. Mrs. Hanes tried to calm her to no avail, so finally she crawled to the front of the wagon and called out to Olin, who was leading Abbie’s oxen.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“See if you can get a signal to Zeke! Abbie’s awake and she’s getting almost hysterical. She’s feverish, Olin, and she’s asking for Zeke.”

“Whoa! Whoa there!” Olin’s voice boomed at the oxen. “Slow down, you damned stupid animals!” It took a moment for the wagon to slow to a halt. “Hold on up the line there!” Olin hollered out. “Somebody get Zeke back here!”

There were more shouts, and Abbie could hear cursing as others pulled their wagons to a halt. Abbie’s crying continued, her emotions fed by heartache, loss, pain, and weakness. Nothing could make her feel better except Cheyenne Zeke’s face, his voice, and his touch. Her sorrow was compounded by a fear of dying from some horrible infection, for she had a fever, which usually meant only one thing. She remembered how poor little Jeremy had died and wondered if she would suffer the same way. A moment later Olin Wales was climbing into the wagon beside her.

“Hey, Abbie girl! What’s an Indian killer and a brave little girl like you doin’ cryin’?”

Her tears continued, and she could not answer him.

“Please try to calm down, Abbie!” Mrs. Hanes said anxiously.

“Hey, Miss Abbie, everything is gonna be okay,” Olin assured her. She could hear a horse thundering up then, and she knew whose mount it was. Only a moment later Zeke climbed into the wagon from the front, and Mrs. Hanes moved to a back corner to make room for his big frame, shutting the canvas so no one else could look inside.

“Hey, Abbie girl, are you really awake? What’s with the tears?” Zeke asked as he took hold of her good hand. “And here I was bragging about what a brave girl you are—brave and strong as any Cheyenne warrior.”

“Am I … really?” she responded, wanting to die from the pain. She felt his big hand at the side of her face.

“Sure you are. You know I never lie.”

“I’m scared, Zeke!” she sobbed. “It hurts … so
bad! I’ll die out … here, like pa … and Jeremy … and LeeAnn! I’ll die out here … all alone … and be buried … where nobody will ever know! I’ll die all alone!”

He bent down and kissed her forehead. “That’s not so, Abbie. I won’t let you die, and you sure as hell aren’t alone.” He brushed at her tears with his thumb. “Please don’t cry, Abbie. It breaks my heart to see you cry.”

“I can … stop … if you … stay here,” she choked out. “Don’t go away … Zeke!”

He sighed. “All right. We’ll camp right here. It’s getting close to dusk.” He looked at Olin. “Go tell the others.” Olin nodded and left, and Zeke asked Mrs. Hanes to help him change Abbie’s bandages. “I don’t like this fever,” he said with concern. “I want to check the wound. She feels mighty hot to me.” He bent down close to her. “Hang on, Abbie. I said I wouldn’t let you die. You can’t make a liar out of me, Abbie girl.”

“Don’t go away!” she pleaded again.

“I’m right here. Now you calm down.” He pulled the blankets down to her waist, and she realized she wore no clothes beneath the blankets. She tried to see her bandages, but she couldn’t even bend her head down.

“Don’t make me move my arm!” she screamed as soon as he touched her.

“I’ll try not to move you too much, Abbie, but I can’t help but move you some.” He looked at Mrs. Hanes. “She been urinating?”

“Yes. All her functions seem to be working normally. And there’s been no vomiting.”

“Good.”

Abbie reddened at the casual conversation about her bodily functions. She could tell by the feel of things that her bottom was wrapped in some kind of rags or towels. She felt humiliated and embarrassed.

“I’m a baby!” she whimpered. “I’m just a big baby!”

“Like hell!” Zeke answered. “You can’t help yourself, Abbie. It’s important for you to lie very still. You can’t get up for anything. If you try to, I’ll tie you down. I don’t want any complications. And as soon as I’m done here, I want you to eat something. All you’ve gotten into your stomach for two days is water and whiskey.”

“I’m sorry I’m … such a burden,” she sobbed.

“Don’t be silly,” Mrs. Hanes answered. “You’re badly wounded and we all want to help you.”

“Go get Olin back in here,” Zeke told the woman. “He’s got to hold her up a little, while I cut off these bandages and check for infection.”

Mrs. Hanes summoned Olin, and Abbie looked up at Zeke, who was taking out his knife. Their eyes met.

“Promise me … you won’t let me suffer … like Jeremy did,” she whispered. “Use that knife on me, like you did on Jeremy … if I’m bad infected and you know I’ll die anyway. Promise me!”

His eyes filled with tears and he nodded. “I promise,” he told her. She knew he meant it.

“I’m sorry … for all the things I said … when you were taking out the arrow,” she whimpered. “I don’t hate you … or even the Indians. I love this land, Zeke.”

“A man would be crazy to believe what a person
says when he’s in pain.”

“I love you,” she whispered. “Please … tell me again … that you love me, Zeke!”

He touched her hair. “You know I love you, Abbie girl.”

Just then, Mrs. Hanes was came back inside with Olin, so Zeke withdrew his hand and grew cooler again.

“She knows, Zeke,” Abbie said quietly. “Mrs. Hanes … guessed. You can talk to me … freely in front of her.”

Zeke frowned and looked at Mrs. Hanes.

“It’s all right, Zeke,” the woman said kindly. “I won’t say anything to anyone. I understand. And Abbie needs you right now. You say whatever you need to say.” Their eyes held a moment.

“You’re a kind and good woman, Mrs. Hanes.”

“You saved my little girl’s life. That isn’t something I can forget. You’re a fine man—a truthful and honest man. You’ve risked your life for us more than once. And you have a right to love whomever you choose. Everyone has that right.”

Zeke sighed. “I wish it was that simple, ma’am. But there are some of us who have no rights.” He changed his position beside Abbie, while Olin moved around to the other side of the girl. “Please have somebody find some moss, Mrs. Hanes,” he continued, wanting to change the subject. “Then get some water boiling and get a fire going, with good, hot coals—hot as you can get them.”

Abbie’s heart pounded with fear at the request, and Mrs. Hanes frowned. “Why?” she asked. Zeke reached out and touched the woman’s arm.

“Just do it,” he said quietly. Their eyes held, and Mrs. Hanes’ eyes filled with tears at the realization of what he was telling her. She nodded and started out of the wagon.

“Mrs. Hanes,” Zeke spoke up. She turned to look at him. “Thank you,” he told her. “For everything.”