Climb the Highest Mountain (6 page)

The other children’s eyes lit up, but Margaret just scowled and went into the other room. Abbie sat down then, pushing at the stray wisp of hair and feeling strangely uncomfortable under his gaze. “I am sure we don’t have the proper clothing for such an affair, Sir Tynes. Besides, we really wouldn’t be interested in such things. We are plenty busy right here.”

“Nonsense. You don’t need any special clothing. You’re a beautiful woman and your children are beautiful. Just dress as you always do. It would be quite fun, really.”

“Mother,” Jeremy put in, “I’ve never seen an English mansion. We could go, couldn’t we?”

She gave him a warning look. “I highly doubt it, Jeremy. We have more important things to worry about at the moment than whether we should go to a time-wasting dinner party. God only knows what has happened to your brother and father. Now take your books, all of you, and go to the loft and finish at least one more chapter. I’ll be asking each of you questions, so don’t try to cheat.”

Jeremy sighed with disappointment and scowled at her; then he took his book and climbed the ladder to the loft. The other four followed but Margaret stayed in the other room, listening attentively to the conversation.

“You have a lovely family, Mrs. Monroe,” Tynes was telling her. “I am very impressed. I didn’t mean to speak so lightly when you have so much to be worried about.”

Abbie sighed. “And I didn’t mean to be rude. Your offer is very kind. Perhaps by then things will be back to normal, but right now Zeke is out looking for our eldest son, and a huge army of Colorado Volunteers is scouring the countryside looking for Indians to kill.” She rose and walked to the hearth, taking a pot of
coffee from it and pouring some into a tin cup for herself.

“Tell me about yourself, Mrs. Monroe. How did you end up out here?”

She walked to a back window to look out, hoping to see Zeke coming. “My father brought us out, after my mother died back in Tennessee,” she said quietly, almost as though speaking just to herself. “There was my father, my older sister, and my little brother. When we reached Independence, a man came to offer his services as a scout for our wagon train. His name was Zeke, Cheyenne Zeke he was called by most. And the minute he stepped into the light of our fire, I was in love.” She turned to look at Tynes then, her cheeks flushing. Sir Tynes felt a pang of jealousy at seeing the expression on her face. She looked like a young girl talking of her first love. “At any rate, we had various tragedies along the way, and I lost my family. It just seemed that it was supposed to happen that way, that I was supposed to be left alone, supposed to end up with Zeke.” She sat down again. “He fought it, but I made it known how I felt about him. He was afraid because I’m white. He had already married a white girl when he was very young, back in Tennessee. She and their little son were murdered by white men who were angry that she had married a half-breed. Zeke hunted them down and killed them all; then he fled out here to search for his real mother. He was a wanted man for a long time back in Tennessee, but that’s been long forgotten now, at least by others. Not by Zeke. He’ll never forget it.” She ran her fingers around the edge of her cup. “But I helped him forget a little. Then, when I was wounded by a Crow arrow, Zeke saved my life. After that, it just seemed natural that we should get married.” She met Sir Tynes’s eyes. “So we did, and I came to Colorado with him to meet the only family he had then—the
Cheyenne. I lived with them for a while, in a tipi, all of it. It was wonderful. Those were good times, happy times, days of freedom for the Cheyenne.” She blinked back tears. “But it isn’t like that anymore.”

She sipped some of her coffee, and he stirred his tea. “So, you are both from Tennessee?” he asked.

“Yes, but I never knew Zeke then. And we no longer feel any attachment to Tennessee. Colorado is our home now, and the Cheyenne are our friends and family.” She pulled her braid around over her shoulder and fingered it nervously. “Zeke’s white father returned to Tennessee after Zeke was born, taking Zeke with him. He married a white woman and they had three sons, so Zeke had three white half brothers. One was killed in the Civil War. Then there is Lance, whom you have met. The other was also in the war but he’s probably back up north by now, at Fort Laramie or thereabouts. He was going to rejoin the Western Army. He had served in the Dakotas for a long time before the war broke out, then he fought on the Confederate side and was wounded. If Zeke hadn’t gone east to find him, he might be dead now.”

Sir Tynes wondered about the rumor Hank Buckley had told him, that while Zeke was searching for his brother Abigail Monroe had been taken by outlaws and later rescued by her husband. It was said she’d been raped and tortured, for what reason no one knew. But those who knew about her abduction were all certain of one thing: whoever had manhandled Zeke Monroe’s wife must have suffered terribly. Sir Tynes didn’t doubt that. But he would not ask her about the affair. It was too personal. Still, he admired the woman’s obvious courage and stamina.

“His name is Dan,” she was telling him. “He resembles Zeke in build, but he certainly doesn’t look like him in any other way,” she said with a smile. “Dan
has very blond hair and very blue eyes, like his white mother. He’s a wonderful man with a lovely wife and daughter.”

She sipped her coffee again.

“And Zeke has full-blood Indian brothers?” Sir Tynes asked.

She nodded. “One is dead now. Another, Black Elk, lives among Black Kettle’s band. I’m worried about him too. He is at Sand Creek. The other brother is Swift Arrow. He’s very warlike, lives in the north with the Sioux.”

Tynes smiled softly. “What an interesting family you have, Mrs. Monroe. I feel very lucky to have you for neighbors, especially upon hearing how good your husband is with horses. I’ll be getting those thoroughbreds soon. If he won’t work for me, I do hope he will at least come to my aid if I have a problem with any of them.”

She tossed the braid back behind her. “I am sure he would help if you needed it, Sir Tynes. He might appear savage and ruthless to you, but I know another side of him. He’s a very good man, a very loyal husband and father. It is only his enemies who know another side of him, so I would suggest you don’t do anything to make him your enemy.”

There was a warning look in her eyes, and Margaret caught the inflection in her mother’s voice and smiled. She had nothing to worry about from the fancy Sir Tynes. Tynes himself studied Abbie’s dark eyes and felt a chill at the thought of Zeke Monroe having it in for him. Certainly if Monroe were aware the Englishman had an interest in his wife, that would be more than enough reason for the man to use the big blade on him. Still, that made the challenge presented here even more tempting. He finished his tea and rose.

“I thank you for the tea and hospitality, Mrs.
Monroe. Your cabin is charming, your children lovely. You are an admirable woman.” He bowed slightly. “By the way, I have a bolt of cloth I brought along, something I was going to use for curtains but I changed my mind. I don’t suppose you might have any use for it?”

She raised her chin slightly. “Not if it is in the form of charity or bribery, Sir Tynes. I don’t need either one.”

“On the contrary, it is neither. I simply—”

“I don’t need your gifts, Sir Tynes,” she said quickly. She frowned. “If it is simply friendship you want, if you are lonely,” she added, “then we are here, and we can help you with any problems you have with your horses. But you must be honest with us, Sir Tynes. Zeke will know if you’re being honest, and you will know it if he thinks otherwise. I hate to keep sounding so rude, but it is men of wealth, like yourself, who have given us the most trouble and who pose the biggest threat to Indians. We find it difficult to trust such men.”

The man smiled nervously. “Well, you do have a way of putting things openly, Mrs. Monroe. I assure you I am an honest man. I have no connections with the wealthy political machinery of Colorado. I am simply here because it is exciting and beautiful. Since my wife died fifteen years ago, I have done nothing but travel and try new things.” His eyes saddened. “Perhaps, I suppose, to help me forget.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry about your wife. And I am sorry that things have happened to us—to me—that come through rather bitterly at times. I would show you some horses, since that is why you came here, but I have no idea which ones Zeke would be willing to sell, so you’ll just have to come back after he is home. I can send Lance for you if you like.”

Her full breasts looked soft beneath the tunic. How he wanted her! But such a woman was impossible to
have. “Yes. I would like that. And thank you again for the tea.”

He put on his hat and went to the door, and she followed him. When they went outside, Lance was approaching, dragging the deer. “Get a couple of knives, Abbie, and we’ll have this thing carved up in no time.”

She smiled. “I’ll get them and put my coat on. It’s too bad Zeke isn’t here. He’d have that thing opened up and sliced into steaks in one quarter the time it would take both of us.”

Lance laughed, and Sir Tynes felt a chill at the stories he had heard about Zeke Monroe and his knife. If he was going to be interested in any man’s wife, he had certainly picked the wrong one. He nodded a good-bye to Abbie and mounted his horse, turning and riding away while Lance threw a rope over a clothesline crossbar and pulled until the deer hung by its front hooves. He counted ten points on the sprawling antlers and grinned at the thought of Abbie showing Zeke the rack as proof of her catch.

Abbie closed the door and went to get her buckskin jacket, glad for the diversions that Sir Tynes and the deer had brought to her day. They had helped her to forget her increasing worry over Zeke and Wolf’s Blood. She touched a jacket that hung on the wall hook next to hers; then she buried her face in the thick sheepskin lining, breathing in her husband’s scent.

“Zeke,” she whispered. “Please be all right.”

When Zeke rode into the camp along the Smoky Hill, his heart was torn by the weeping and wailing that could be heard throughout the village. Even some men were crying, a sight seldom seen among Indians. But the losses had been too great: wives, husbands, sons,
daughters, grandmothers, grandfathers, aunts, uncles, nephews. The slaughter had been sudden, uncalled for, and had left the survivors in shock. Some now sat around campfires warming frostbitten toes and fingers.

Zeke rode up to Blue Bear, an old man who had been a friend of his mother’s. The old man had tears on his face and rubbed at a shoulder that was caked with dried blood.

“Zeke!” the old man said in a weak voice. “Our … village … the soldiers came—”

“I know,” Zeke said quickly. “Have you seen Wolf’s Blood?”

The man shook his head. “Some survivors … are still coming in. I saw … your son once … before the attack … saw him fighting some of them off to protect Morning Bird … saw them push a saber … through the girl. Then I got hit. I don’t know what happened then. We all… fled. Those of us who … got away … spent the night on the open plains … with hardly any clothing and the wind biting into our skin. Many more … died.” The old man coughed.

“Wolf’s Blood!” Zeke repeated. “I didn’t find him at the scene of the massacre, Blue Bear. Are you sure you haven’t seen him?”

“I… don’t know. You’ll have to … search the village. I was in much pain. I didn’t pay much attention. Some of the others … who managed to get right away on horses … they came here and gave the alarm. Our Cheyenne and Arapaho friends here … rode back to look for survivors … brought clothing, food, and extra horses. If they had not come, we would all have died … out there in that awful wind. Some may still die … others will lose their feet and hands to the cold. Perhaps your son … is among the survivors. I do not know. You will… have to search.”

Zeke patted the man’s shoulder. “Can I do anything
for you, Blue Bear?”

The old man touched his hand. “Not now. I have what I need. Go and look … for your son.”

Zeke sighed and rose. It seemed everyplace he walked there was weeping and groaning. Some sat with gashed chests and arms, letting blood in mourning for lost loved ones. He knew most of them, had once ridden with some of them on buffalo hunts and even on raids against their enemy the Pawnee, Crow, and Utes. But that time seemed long ago.

He searched throughout the camp until he found one old woman who nodded and pointed when he asked about his son. Zeke’s heart pounded when she pointed to two bodies lying near a fire and wrapped in blankets. He forced his legs to move, afraid of what he would find. When he came closer, he knew it was his son.

“Wolf’s Blood!” he groaned, kneeling down to touch the young man’s shoulder. The boy lay with his arm around a girl, whose back was to him. The boy turned his head slightly at the sound of his name and opened bloodshot eyes to look up at Zeke.

“Father!” he whispered. “How … did you find me!”

“I heard about Chivington and those bastard volunteers out hunting for Indians. I was worried about you.”

“Father, they attacked us. It was … terrible.”

“I know. I’ve been to Sand Creek. Are you hurt, son?”

The boy’s forehead and hair were soaked with perspiration in spite of the cold. “Morning Bird. She is hurt. Help her first, Father. I tried to stop them … from hurting her … but there were so many!”

“Be still, son.” He reached over to touch Morning Bird’s forehead, then felt the chill of sorrow sweep through him. He knew immediately she was already dead, probably had been for quite some time. Perhaps
Wolf’s Blood knew also but didn’t want to face it. Zeke sighed and gently pulled the boy’s arm from around her body. “She’s dead, Wolf’s Blood.”

The boy’s eyes widened and he put the arm back. “No. She is not dead! She is not dead!”

“Yes, she is. Calm down, Wolf’s Blood. Let me tend to your wounds.”

“No! I love her. I am going to marry Morning Bird!”

Zeke’s eyes teared. “I’m sorry, son. The girl is dead. I’ll bury her for you just as soon as I tend to you.”

A shuddering sob exited his son’s lips and ripped at Zeke’s heart. “Why?” he groaned. “Why did they … do that? They rode right down on her … for no reason! They pushed a big sword right through her—and laughed!” The boy rolled back to his side and put his arm around the girl again. “Why did they do that?”