Climb the Highest Mountain (3 page)

Their eyes held. The sheriff could see that the Englishman was a man of great wealth, perhaps a man who could make trouble if he arrested Zeke Monroe.
He lowered his rifle and scowled.

“Get going!” he told Zeke.

Zeke glared at him and bruskly shoved his knife into its sheath. “Thanks for your kind justice!” he sneered. He turned, barged past Sir Tynes and the others, and headed toward Abbie. She could see the pain in his eyes. How he hated it when she suffered because of him! For nineteen years he had fussed and fumed, thinking that she probably never should have married him, that he’d had no right to make her his wife, not when he knew how hard it would be for her. Yet for nineteen years she had argued back that it didn’t matter, that she could not live without Zeke Monroe … and that was true.

“Zeke, are you all right?” she asked quickly, running her hands over his arms.

“I’m fine!” he grumbled, wiping the blood on his lip with his shirtsleeve. He winced and held his side for a moment.

“Zeke?”

“Just that damned old bullet wound. It never bothers me unless somebody lands into it just right.”

She frowned. Apparently some old wounds never really healed. He had been hit by the bullet back on the wagon train years ago, when he had saved her from a band of renegade Crow Indians led by white outlaws. She had taken the bullet out herself, a fifteen-year-old child who knew nothing of such things, because she knew if she didn’t remove it he would die. She always wondered if she had done something wrong and that was why to this day the wound sometimes bothered him. He forced a light smile for her and pressed her shoulder.

“I’m all right, Abbie. I’m just sorry—”

“Don’t be!” she spoke up quickly. “What do they know about us, about what we’ve been through and all?
They’re ignorant fools!”

He sighed deeply. “Let’s go back to the hotel and get cleaned up. I just hope we can get to a place to eat without any more problems.”

They started to leave when the Englishman called out to them. “Monroe! Zeke Monroe, I wish to talk to you!”

Zeke turned, having almost forgotten the man. He put out his hand. “I’m sorry, mister. You stuck up for me over there. I should have thanked you.”

Sir Tynes shook Zeke’s hand and glanced out into the street. Two men were picking up the one man who was still unconscious, while others helped the man Zeke had cut toward the doctor’s office. Bystanders grumbled and mumbled as they headed back into saloons and stores.

“Ah, well. You have a lot on your mind, Monroe. I must say, that was a dandy fight! You’re marvelous to watch! Marvelous! God, how I love this wild country! And you fit it perfectly!”

Zeke couldn’t help but grin, and Abbie smiled. Zeke beat some dust from his hat and put it back on. “So who are you, and why do you want to talk to me?” he asked.

“This here is Sir Edwin Tynes, from England,” Hank replied for the man. Buckley stood beside Tynes and pushed his hat back as he nodded to Abbie. “I work for Sir Tynes now, on a big ranch right next to yours, ma’am.”

Hank moved his eyes from Abbie to Zeke, whose dark eyes studied Tynes closely, taking in the well-cut clothes and neat appearance. Wealth, education, and power emanated from the man, who, at the moment, was eying Abbie carefully, his look one of utter admiration.

“Next to mine?” Zeke asked pointedly, wanting to
get Sir Tynes’s eyes off of Abbie and to direct his attention elsewhere. Jealousy was stirring deep in his soul. Tynes looked up at him then and flashed a quick, handsome smile.

“Yes! I was just talking to Hank this morning about you, Mister Monroe. I own five thousand acres now, and I am told your place is right on my border.”

Zeke frowned and put an arm around Abbie, suddenly feeling as though he must protect her against something. “Five thousand acres? All the land around me is reservation land, Sir Tynes.”

Tynes paled slightly, unsure of just what might rile this half-savage man. “I am afraid that inside sources tell me it won’t be reservation land for long, Mister Monroe.” He swallowed. “I am sorry to tell you that, but it’s true. The Indians are going to be shipped to Kansas. A treaty is in the making at this very moment. The Cheyenne have simply caused too much chaos in these parts—burned ranches, stolen cattle and horses, stolen women—”

“Not the southern Cheyenne!” Zeke glowered, his temper rising again. “The Comanche and Kiowa and a few northern Cheyenne have caused all the trouble, not my people! And what are they expected to do anyway, when they’re shot down in cold blood by soldiers while standing helpless and waving a white flag, like what happened to Lean Bear?”

Tynes smiled a soft, kind smile. “Don’t take it all out on me, Mister Monroe. I’ve had nothing to do with it. I only came out here to buy land and make my fortune in the great American West. If the government is willing to sell me that land, what can I do? I have no say in what has been going on with the Indians.”

“Just the presence of people like you, taking over their land, killing off their game, has plenty to do with what goes on with the Indians.”

“And because of Indian raids along the Overland Stage Route, the whole Platte River road was closed half the summer,” Tynes retorted. “I am sure you noticed how high the prices of food climbed during that time, Mister Monroe. Some people in the mountain towns nearly starved to death. Everything had to come by sea to San Francisco and then be shipped overland to Denver. To make matters worse the grasshoppers devoured what crops the people around Denver had grown. It was very bad for them. I know, I lived in Denver this past summer.”

“I suppose it’s all right, though, for white settlers to starve out the Indians. It’s the same thing, Sir Tynes. Wild game is disappearing, and the lands on which they can hunt are shrinking. They attack the supply trains for survival. They’re forced into it because their women and children are dying; the government rations don’t come half the time, and when they do, they’re usually rotten. On top of that, soldiers badger them everyplace they go. Most of the troops out here don’t know one Indian from another, so the innocent ones suffer for what the raiding ones do.”

“And the price of flour goes up from nine dollars to twenty-five dollars for a hundred pounds,” Sir Tynes replied.

Zeke studied the man’s fine clothes. “I highly doubt the price of anything troubles you much,” he answered. “You foreigners come out here to a country you know nothing about and try to run it! You take advantage of people who have lived here for centuries and—”

“Zeke,” Abbie interrupted quietly, putting a hand on his arm. “This isn’t the time or place. Sir Tynes just helped convince the sheriff not to haul you off to jail.”

Zeke rubbed at his lip again. “I’m sorry, Sir Tynes. You did help me just now, and I owe you for that. But people like you don’t know anything about the
Indians—nothing about their culture and spirit. I have family among the southern Cheyenne. I have a half brother and a nephew with them and another half brother with the northern tribes.”

Tynes’s eyes roved over Zeke’s amazing physique again. The two men were of equal height, but Zeke’s body was much more muscular, although Sir Tynes was a well-built man who had traveled the world and had tried his hand at many things. “So, you’re only part Indian?”

“My mother was Cheyenne. My father was from Tennessee. I was born out here but I was raised in Tennessee among whites. When I was old enough I came back out here to find my real mother; then I lived with the Cheyenne.”

Tynes nodded, moving his eyes to Abbie again. He was captured by her stunning beauty, and was surprised that she had survived so well in this violent land. His gaze returned to Zeke. “Your wife is a lovely woman, Mister Monroe. And I admire her courage, living out here as she does.” He looked back at Abbie again, deep admiration in his eyes. “I don’t doubt that I am looking at the kind of woman a man needs in this godforsaken country. You are to be envied, Mister Monroe.”

Zeke wasn’t certain how to take the compliment. He didn’t like smooth, wealthy men admiring his wife. “Thank you,” he answered grudgingly. “Abbie is the best. We’ve been together a lot of years,” he added, a ring of possessiveness in his voice.

Abbie blushed lightly and Sir Tynes smiled and folded his arms. “I’m told you’re very good with horses, Mister Monroe—that you raise them and are good at doctoring them and so forth.”

“Zeke is the best man around with horses,” Hank declared. “No one else in the territory raises finer animals.”

Sir Tynes grinned and nodded. “Well, it’s to be expected. I’m told Indians are marvelous with horses.”

“What are you after, Sir Tynes?” Zeke asked, growing impatient.

“Well, since our land adjoins, and since I am told you have… uh”—his eyes took in Abbie’s small frame again—“that you have several children …” He turned to Hank. “Seven did you say?”

Hank nodded and Zeke scowled, a little upset that Hank Buckley had been so free with information about the Monroes. Zeke had known Hank a long time. He was a drifter who hung out at Fort Lyon, doing odd jobs. He was a good man, but shiftless. Now he apparently had hit on a good job, working for Sir Edwin Tynes. The name was beginning to sour in Zeke’s mouth. He looked back at the Englishman, who continued talking.

“Well, since you have so many children to support, Mister Monroe, and since your ranch is so much smaller than mine, I thought perhaps you’d be interested in additional work. I am having some very fine thoroughbreds shipped out here from the South. I would enjoy your expertise in caring for them. I could pay you well.”

Zeke bristled. His pride had been injured enough today. He didn’t like Sir Edwin Tynes offering him work, and he didn’t like the way the man looked at Abbie.

“I don’t need the work,” he answered. “I have enough to do on my own place, and I do just fine with my own herd. I have a white half brother who helps me—Lance. The two of us and my older children and Abbie and I put in a lot of hours. I wouldn’t have time to tend to your horses, Sir Tynes.”

Tynes’s eyes again took inventory of the mass of power that was Zeke Monroe, feeling a jealousy of his own as he tried to imagine how the small, lovely
Abigail lived with such a man. She seemed so happy and contented, and so ready to defend her husband. The man nodded to Zeke.

“So be it. But the job is there, any time you want it. Just come and see me and we’ll talk about it.”

Zeke nodded, his dark eyes cautious and wary. “I hope you aren’t considering trying to get my land, Sir Tynes. Your stay here in Colorado might be cut short.”

Tynes chuckled and shook his head. “No, Mister Monroe. I shan’t bother your place. I have all the land I want now… and in just the right spot. It’s a big country, isn’t it? An ideal place for adventurers like myself who come here to build empires. You realize, of course, that a railroad will be coming through our land one day. That’s part of the reason I bought up what I did. I will make quite a profit selling rights to the railroad, let alone being able to use the railroad to ship my cattle and horses to Denver and Santa Fe. I have no doubt that there will be rails to every major town in the West in the not-too-distant future.”

Abbie’s eyes widened in alarm. “A railroad! I thought talk of a railroad had died out.”

Tynes studied her again, wondering how she would look with fancy curls and with ribbons in her lustrous hair, wearing a low-cut ball gown and a light touch of makeup. She would be ravishing! Even in her plain clothes and hairdo, her beauty could not be hidden. Her skin had a golden glow from the Western sun, and her dark eyes were large and framed with thick lashes. They were true eyes, determined eyes, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with curiosity about her. How had she ended up in this savage land, married to a half-breed Cheyenne?

“Oh, there will most certainly be railroads out here in the next few years,” he told her. “That shouldn’t upset you.” He looked back at Zeke. “You’ll probably
get rich!” he exclaimed with a smile. “Your property lies right in the heart of a possible railroad line.”

“I have no interest in getting rich off the railroad,” Zeke answered. “And trains are among the Indians’ worst enemies. They frighten away all the game, and they bring in more settlers.”

Sir Tynes shook his head. “There’s no fighting that, Mister Monroe. Surely you realize that. Colorado is growing, and we can help it grow.”

Abbie’s temper flared then. “I highly doubt that it is in the interest of helping Colorado grow that men like you come here, Sir Tynes!” she snapped. “It is more likely your pocketbook you wish to grow and prosper, is it not?”

Tynes repressed his anger. Eying her with even deeper admiration, he replied, “I can see you are a woman who speaks freely.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Forgive me, Sir Tynes, but I have been through things that would shock you, and most of the hardships have been brought on by white men, not Indians. I consider the Cheyenne my friends and family, just as Zeke does, and I have personally seen atrocities committed against them that I never believed civilized men could carry out—all in the name of power and progress.”

The man frowned, removing his hat and studying her closely. For some strange reason he suddenly wanted her, wanted to tame her pride and defiance. She was a challenge, and Sir Tynes liked challenges. “I take my hat off to you, Mrs. Monroe.” He looked up at Zeke. “And I apologize if I have offended you. It was not my intention. I assure you, you have the wrong impression of me. I am only here for the excitement and adventure. I want to be a part of the things that are sure to take place in this great land of yours and to do my share to aid in its growth. It so happens I find America a
wonderful place, and this Colorado Territory is some of the most beautiful country I have ever seen.”

“It is,” Zeke replied. “I love it too, Sir Tynes. But I love the Cheyenne more, and I hate seeing what white man’s progress is doing to them. It was their land first. Do men like you understand that? I don’t think so.”

Tynes nodded. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps we can visit more and you can explain it to me.” He flashed a smile then, glancing at Abbie again. “You both must come to see me. I am lonely and want to make friends, and I can see that both of you are people worth knowing. Come and see the mansion I am building. It will be fun for you. A castle in the desert, I call it. All stone. That’s the coolest building material, you know, for the summer heat of the Plains. When it is finished I shall have a grand party. I will be sure to invite both of you.” He looked up at Zeke again. “You have a most beautiful and remarkable wife, Mister Monroe. I must talk to you more, learn about how the two of you got together. I find this entire situation utterly fascinating. I shall have to write home about it. Actually, I am quite pleased to find out that you two are my neighbors. Such a wonderful specimen of man you are, Mister Monroe! You shall have to show me some tricks with a knife! And I’d like to meet all those children of yours. Oh, and I’d like to take a look at the horses you raise. I might buy a few. What do you have available right now?”