Eagle’s Song (12 page)

Wolf’s Blood grinned. Surely his father had sent the wolves to keep him company. The ground beneath him was packed soft with pine needles, for he was high in the mountains, amid a thick forest of spruce. He lay facedown into the needles, breathing deeply of their sweet scent … waiting. He would either be attacked and ripped apart, or these wolves would comfort him.

He felt them coming then, one … two … three. The little one was burrowing its nose into his neck, sniffing, whining, licking. A bigger one lay down on one side of him. Another lay across his legs. Another lay on the other side of him. More piled around him, until he was covered in furry warmth.

“Thank you
Maheo
,” he prayed, “for taking away the cold.” His heart felt a little lighter to know the wolf
spirit was still with him, to know he still had this kind of power. Yes, he was still a warrior, still a part of the wild things. And just as he was now comforted, he knew it was a sign that his beloved children would also be comforted.
Maheo
would see that they were taken care of. And somehow his mother would know he was all right.

He could sleep now. He closed his eyes in warmth and comfort, utterly exhausted from days of riding and hiding, shivering cold at night, hungry for a decent meal, weary from many tears, worn out from sorrow. Sleep suddenly came easily, and he welcomed it.

He had no idea what time it was when he’d drifted off, how long he’d slept before a shaft of sunlight broke through the treetops and shone down warmly against his face. He opened his eyes, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and to realize he was alone. He quickly awakened then, looking around. The wolves were gone … all but one. The young one that had approached him the night before. He blinked, trying to remember. If not for the little one still lying nearby, he would have to wonder if they had really come at all. Was it a dream? Surely not. Here was this
oh-kumhka-kit
, watching him. The young wolf rolled onto its back as though begging to have its belly rubbed.

Wolf’s Blood grinned, reaching over and scratching its stomach. “So, little one, you will stay with me. You will be my companion. Your mother has given you to me.” He remembered another time, years ago, when a small wolf had appeared to him after white men had killed his first wolf pet. He and his brothers and sisters had been out looking for a Christmas tree for their mother. That was how it was for him. The wolves simply came. They knew when he needed their spirit power.

He stood up, noticing the horse that had run off the night before now stood grazing nearby. The spirits
were being good to him today! He rolled up his blanket and tied it onto the horse, using only rope, as he had discarded the saddle many days ago. He hated white men’s saddles. He walked over and picked up the young wolf, which licked at his face. He plopped the wolf over the horse’s back, and, amazingly, the horse did not protest, as though it understood it need not fear. Wolf’s Blood leapt onto the horse, keeping the wolf in front of him as he took up the reins and left the magical spot where last night he’d slept warmly among a pack of wolves.

“
Ha-ho, Maheo
,” he said, thanking the Great Spirit for bringing the wolves and helping ease his broken heart. He headed north, not even aware that an eagle winged its way behind him from treetop to treetop.

Margaret looked up from sweeping the porch to see a lone rider coming on a sleek, roan-colored horse, and even from a distance it was obvious the rider was a woman. She set the broom aside, calling for Morgan, who was in the house finishing his lunch. “Someone’s coming—a woman.”

Morgan left the table, coming out onto the porch, followed by Nathan and Lance, both eager to see who it might be. It was very unusual to see a woman riding alone in such big country.

“It’s her,” Margaret commented. “It must be.”

“Who, Mother?” Nathan asked.

“That girl who got our Zeke in so much trouble. Carson Temple’s daughter.”

“If she’s his daughter, she can’t be very nice,” Nathan said.

“Zeke loved her. Let’s remember that and give her a chance,” Morgan reminded them, studying the rider as she came closer. She reined her horse to a slow walk
when she saw them all watching her, obviously hesitant to come closer. Morgan stepped down off the porch, nodding to her. “You’re Georgeanne, aren’t you?”

Georgie could not help feeling apprehensive. Surely these people hated her for what had happened to Zeke. Apparently her father had convinced Zeke not to see her, for she had not heard from him since her father had had her dragged away from that last liaison. The threats probably involved his family, and she hoped she was not bringing them terrible problems by coming here to see Zeke. She was determined to convince him they could find a way to be together.

She urged her horse closer, studying Morgan Brown. He was quite a handsome man, with more features about him that spoke of his Negro blood than Zeke had. She glanced at the woman who was now stepping off the porch. Indian! She looked pure Indian, and anyone could tell she’d been quite beautiful when she was younger. She was still attractive. This had to be Zeke’s mother. She looked back at Morgan. “Yes, I am Georgeanne,” she replied.

Morgan caught the hint of a lingering Southern accent. It brought back memories he would rather keep buried.

“I know that my father has hurt all of you deeply,” Georgeanne continued, “and I have come to apologize and to … to see Zeke. Surely we can work something out—”

“Zeke is gone,” Morgan interrupted. “And what your father did to him deserves much more than a simple apology.” He could not keep back his anger. “How can you sit there and think words can make up for our son’s almost dying! Or for the threats your father posed to us! Your
father
is the one who should be here apologizing! If he didn’t own the law in Pueblo, I’d have him arrested for attempted murder!
As it is, if we have any more trouble from him, I have a brother-in-law in Denver who will send out a U.S. Marshal!”

Georgeanne felt sick inside. She struggled against tears, trying to comprehend this man’s anger. Something much worse must have happened to Zeke. Her father had promised not to hurt him any more than the blow to the head. “I … I don’t understand, Mr. Brown. I didn’t know that hit on the head brought him close to death. Where is Zeke? Why isn’t he here? I need to see him! I want to know he’s all right!” Tears began spilling down her cheeks then.

Margaret had walked up beside Morgan, and she put a hand on his arm. “Calm down,” she said. She looked up at Georgeanne, thinking how utterly beautiful this young woman was. And she sat her horse well, obviously an experienced rider. Her tan-colored, suede riding outfit—a split skirt, white blouse, short-waisted jacket—was set off by brown leather boots and a narrow-brimmed brown suede hat was perched atop auburn hair. “Miss Temple, don’t you know what your father did to Zeke?”

Georgeanne shook her head, wiping at her tears with a gloved hand. “I’m not sure … what you mean.”

“You don’t know he was dragged home by the ankles, tied to your father’s horse?” Morgan demanded. “He was a bloody mass of torn flesh by the time he got here, half dead.”

Georgeanne paled visibly. “My God!” she cried. She doubled over then, grabbing Princess’s mane and weeping against her neck. “Oh, God, Zeke … I didn’t know! I only … stayed away for your protection. If I … had known … I would have found a way to come here … be with you.”

Margaret reached up and grasped her about the
waist. “Climb down from there, Miss Temple. Come inside.”

Georgeanne dismounted, remaining bent over and still weeping as Margaret kept a hand at her waist and led her into the house.

“You two stay out here,” Morgan ordered Nathan and Lance. The two boys stood outside the screened door, watching and listening as Georgeanne was led to the kitchen table. She sat down on a chair, and Margaret told Morgan to find her a clean handkerchief. After he retrieved one from the bedroom chest, Georgeanne blew her nose and wiped her eyes, finally gaining control of herself.

“It can’t be true,” she sniffled. “My father promised he wouldn’t hurt Zeke any more than he had. He promised!”

“Carson Temple isn’t a man to keep promises,” Morgan growled, taking a chair across the table from her. “Not if it involves Indians and Negroes. You ought to know your own father better than that. Zeke says he was conscious enough to know the man hit you—his own daughter! In my whole life I’ve never laid a hand on my children! To have some other man do that to my son was the same as sticking a knife in my belly! If I could get away with it, and if my family didn’t need me like they do, I’d kill Carson Temple! I’m sorry to put it that way, but it’s the truth, girl. And now because of him, my precious firstborn son is gone!”

Georgeanne shivered, meeting his dark eyes. “I didn’t know about Zeke being hurt that bad. My father … had me taken away, but he promised not to do any more harm to Zeke. After that I stayed away long enough to let my father calm down … let him think I’d given up on Zeke. I didn’t want him to do him more harm or to hurt either of you or the ranch.” She looked at Margaret pleadingly. “Please don’t
blame me for this. I love Zeke! I truly love him! I’m not like my father. You have to believe that. My father is a brutal man who hates those of different backgrounds, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s his fault my mother …” She closed her eyes and hung her head. “Maybe you don’t know.”

Margaret sat down next to her, putting her hand on Georgeanne’s shoulder. “Zeke told us about your mother. I’m sorry.”

Georgeanne wiped at her eyes again. “He drove her to it. I’m sure of it. He tries to control people, tries to control everything and everyone around him, does whatever he has to do to get what he wants.” She turned to Margaret. “I came here to show you my own feelings haven’t changed. I wanted to meet you, to prove to you that I’m not like my father. And I came to see Zeke, to make sure he was all right, to tell him I love him and that we can find a way to be together. My father went away on business, so I came as soon as he left.” She looked around the simple log cabin, such a far cry from the cold, stone mansion she lived in. She had everything most people could ever want, but she would trade it all to live here with Zeke—to be his woman, sleep next to him. “Where has he gone? How badly was he injured? And
why
did he go away? Why didn’t he talk to me first, at least send a letter to me?”

“Because he’s determined to forget about you,” Morgan answered. “He knew if he saw you again, he’d not be able to leave. He figured it was best to end it, Miss Temple, for your own sake. He was afraid that even if you could be together, you’d suffer in other ways for being married to someone of color. Besides that, he didn’t want any more trouble for us right now. He figured your father was just waiting for him to try to see you again. It would give the man an excuse to come here and burn us out, which is exactly what he
threatened to do if Zeke kept seeing you. He’s got the power and the men to do it, Zeke knows that. But I think his biggest fear was that your father would kill me, and he’d have blamed himself for that. I told him I’d find a way to handle all this, but he wouldn’t listen. He was determined the best thing to do was to just go away, get out of your life, leave your father no excuse to come here and destroy us. His grandmother is coming back here in a few weeks with legal documents proving ownership, and that will be that. But there will be an awful emptiness in our lives as long as Zeke is gone.”

New tears came to Georgeanne’s eyes. “And in mine. He won’t be able to forget me, Mr. Brown, any more than I can forget him. I’ll
never
do that! And I’ll never stop loving him! I want you to know this.” She looked at Margaret. “My feelings are sincere. I have to find him. Please tell me where he is!”

Margaret shook her head. “We don’t know. He said he would write, but that he would not be back for a long time. I’m sorry, Miss Temple, but our son is a wise, generous man willing to make sacrifices for his family. I love him, and I happen to agree this is probably best, in spite of the fact that I believe you truly do love him. We can’t always have what we want in this life, child, and sometimes loving someone means giving that person up. He needs to let go of you, and for a while we must let go of Zeke. He’s never been out on his own, away from the ranch, so maybe it’s best he does some exploring. You were a part of that outside world, something different, beautiful, well traveled. You know about things he’s never seen and done. Until he has had some of those experiences for himself, he could never be sure he truly loves you, could never be strong enough to face what you must if you choose to be together. I hope our son did not … take advantage of your love. I hope
there is no danger that you … that he could have left you carrying his child. Please tell me it never went that far.”

Georgeanne blushed deeply.
I wish it had
, she wanted to answer. “No. We both knew that was too dangerous. Zeke is very wise. He treated me with full respect, and was strong enough to …” How was she going to forget his delicious kisses, the touch of his hand on her breast, the feel of his powerful body pressing against her own? “Nothing like that happened.”

Margaret breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad for that.” She patted Georgeanne’s shoulder. “You’re a beautiful young woman, and I can feel your sincerity. It’s amazing that Carson Temple could have a daughter like you. I can understand how easy it was for our son to love you, Miss Temple.”

“Georgeanne. Please call me Georgeanne.”

Margaret rose. “I am sure this is best for you both, Georgeanne. Time will help heal your heart. You’re meant for a different life than what Zeke could have given you. If you’re unhappy at the ranch, maybe you should go back East. Maybe there you’ll find … someone else.”

Georgeanne shook her head. “I’ll never find anyone like Zeke.” She wrung the handkerchief in her hands. “If only I knew where he’s gone.”

Margaret blinked back tears of her own, for Zeke and for this young woman who was apparently so in love with him. She moved around to kneel in front of her. “Let it go, Georgeanne. Go and find your own life, away from here. Let Zeke find
his
. The man inside him is trying to find his way in this world, learning, growing. The hurt will subside after a while, I promise. If God means for you to be together, you’ll find each other again when the time is truly right. Search your
own heart, child. Look at me. Take a good look, at me and at Morgan.”