Eagle’s Song (28 page)

They talked about everything but the real reason Wolf’s Blood had come. Jason’s and Ellen’s laughter did not quite ring true, and Sweet Bird looked ready to cry. Abbie suspected it was from more than the fact that she was among strangers, far from the only home she had ever known. She was losing her husband, and she well knew it, just as Margaret and Jason and Ellen knew they were losing a brother.

They ate, talked more. Lance and Daniel went off to the stables together to bed down horses, and Susan went to her and Nathan’s wing of the house to put their children to sleep. Wolf’s Blood’s and Jason’s sleepy children were shown to rooms upstairs and put to bed. Sweet Bird stayed to sleep with Little Eagle and Laughing Turtle so they would not be afraid, and Wolf’s Blood, Ellen, Margaret, Morgan, Jason, Louellen, Nathan, and Abbie retired to the parlor, where their smiles faded and the atmosphere grew more somber.

“Sweet Bird’s Christian name is Elizabeth,” Wolf’s Blood told them, “and our children’s Christian names are Joseph and Sarah. I myself have never taken the Christian religion, but Elizabeth has, just as you did, Mother, while Father continued to pray to the Great spirit
Maheo
.”

Abbie nodded. “You might as well tell us, son, why you are really here. You always said you would not die a crippled old man, as your father would not. You brought Elizabeth and your children here so they would always be cared for. I know in my heart you have decided to die a warrior’s death. How do you plan to do this?”

The room was silent, and Margaret looked away, struggling not to weep openly. Her brother had been through so much sorrow in his life. It was Wolf’s Blood who was with his own father when Zeke died, and who had lost the first girl he’d ever loved as well as two wives to white men’s bullets. He had lived the warrior’s life, yet he’d also seen the end of the Indian way.

As Wolf’s Blood rose, everyone could see him wince with pain. He still looked strong and was handsome for his age, but he walked slowly to the marble fireplace. “I had Hal send for Hawk and Iris, and for Jeremy,” he told them. “I want to meet Iris’s husband and see by his eyes that he is a good man.” He grinned slyly, glancing at his mother. “Hawk and Iris’s mother was Apache, remember. Down there I learned much hatred for Mexicans. Often the Apache stole Mexican women, or sometimes the other way around. I find some humor in my daughter marrying a Mexican man, but I am sure he is a good man or Hawk would not have allowed it.”

Abbie smiled. “He is a very good man, and he does well. Iris is living quite comfortably.”

Wolf’s Blood nodded. “Good.” He sighed. “I also
need to talk to my brother and my son before I do what I must do. It is better you do not ask me what that is. I can only tell you now that I will give myself up in Denver. I will let Hawk take care of it. They will take me to Cheyenne, I suppose, for trial.”

Abbie frowned. “Wolf’s Blood, if you do that you could be hanged. That is the last way any Indian wants to die. I wouldn’t allow it! I’d shoot you myself first!” she exclaimed.

Wolf’s Blood saw the terror and pain in her eyes. “I will not let myself hang. I am giving myself up because in that way I can draw attention to the hatred and misunderstanding that surrounded Jennifer’s death. Joshua can come with us to Cheyenne. He will print the truth. I want the whole story told—why I did what I did—the useless way Jennifer died. Once that is done, I will choose my time.”

“But … Hawk might be able to have you acquitted,” Ellen told him. “Then you would be free. No violence would be necessary.”

Wolf’s Blood shook his head. “My son is good at what he does, I am sure, but he is not that good. It has been twelve years since it happened, but there will be people who remember I went after two other men who had fired no shots. I not only killed them, I took their scalps.”

Morgan frowned and shook his head in wonder.

“Few white men would get away with such a thing, let alone an Indian,” Wolf’s Blood continued. “And it was white men I killed. There is no doubt in my mind how a hearing would go. But at least I will have my say.” He walked over to Ellen, showing her his half-crippled hands. “Do you see this? I have no desire to be set free, my sister. My freedom can come only in death. I am sorry it must be this way, but if you truly love me, you will understand and accept what I must
do.” He turned to the others. “There are certain things I must talk about with Hawk first. I will stay here until he comes, then spend a few more days with my family …” He looked at Abbie. “Then it will be done.” He held his chin a little higher, breathing deeper. “Be happy for me, my brothers and sisters. The summer sun is warm, and when it is warm and dry, I am not in so much pain. This is a good time to die, is it not, with the sun shining upon me? And outside, out there somewhere, the eagle waits for me. It sings its death song, calling me. I will be with my father again, and with Swift Arrow, and we will ride free in a land where there are many buffalo, and all the loved ones who have gone before us will be with us again.” He looked proudly at his mother. “You understand. You long to go there yourself.”

Abbie ached with emotion. Wolf’s Blood’s dark eyes captured hers, and she slowly rose. “Yes,” she answered quietly.

Wolf’s Blood nodded. “Your children and grandchildren need you a little while longer. But someone else needs you also, and when you go to him, it will be the right time.”

Abbie could not speak. Only Wolf’s Blood fully understood just how deeply she had loved his father. She walked closer and embraced him, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her.

“Mother, my mother,” he said softly. “So much sorrow you have known. You knew how it would be from that first day you saw my father, yet you took the chance. There is no other woman like Abigail Monroe.”

Abbie clung to him, weeping. “Oh, there are many, son,” she finally answered through tears. “Your sister Margaret. Georgeanne, the fine woman who married young Zeke.” She pulled away. “Your own Sweet Bird.
Surely she knew when she married you that she would never grow old with you. It took great courage for her to do what she did.” She wiped at her tears. “You should go to her. She must feel so alone and afraid. We will help her all we can, and we will love her.”

Wolf’s Blood blinked back his own tears. “I knew that you would. But it is possible she will not always have to stay here. You will understand when the time comes. For now I am very tired. I will do as you say and go to her.” He looked at Margaret. “Which room is it?”

She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “Go up the stairs, if it isn’t too painful for you to climb them. It’s the third door on the right.” She rose and embraced him. “I love you, Wolf’s Blood. I was always so proud of you.”

“And I have always been proud of you, of all in my family, even Jeremy. He has done so much for my children.”

“He’s helped all of us in one way or another,” Abbie said.

Wolf’s Blood embraced each person in the room, then turned to all of them. “I go to my family now. All of you should also rest, and do not be sad. Not for me. Only be sad if I should die of this ugly disease instead of dying with honor.”

He turned and left them, and they all stood there looking at each other, not a dry eye in the room. “He’s really going to do it, isn’t he?” Ellen asked her mother. “We can’t let him, Mother. The authorities don’t even know he’s here. Why can’t he just stay here? We can take care of him if he gets too crippled to walk. I’d come from Pueblo and help as often as I could.”

Abbie smiled in spite of her tears. “I am sure you would, Ellen, but you know how it was for Zeke. Wolf’s Blood is just like him. Can you really see him dying
that way, all crippled up in a wheelchair or in bed? Don’t you understand what that would do to his pride?”

Ellen brushed tears from her cheeks with a shaking hand. “I just keep hoping he’ll change his mind.”

“A Monroe? Change his mind once it’s made up? Ellen, I thought you knew this family better than that.” Oh, how she wanted to fall to the floor and weep. Her son! Her precious firstborn! But her children needed her to be strong now, and Wolf’s’ Blood needed her to understand. “He is right, Ellen. His only freedom will come with death. We have to sit back and let him do what he must, and be happy for him. He needs our understanding and support. We have him for a little while yet. Let’s just enjoy that much and try not to think too far ahead. Hawk and Jeremy will come soon. We can at least have one more family reunion. It’s been twelve years since the last one. Sweet Bird will meet the rest of the family.” She thought again of Wolf’s Blood’s remark about Hawk, the way he had looked at Sweet Bird when he’d made it.

Hawk wearily stepped down from the carriage. He’d spent the last two days in court in Fort Collins, defending a Chinaman accused of theft. He’d managed to get the poor man acquitted, and he was glad; but the strain of the case and of having to travel back and forth had taken their toll. He was glad it was dark enough that no one would notice his wrinkled suit and the shirt open halfway down his chest because of the heat. He paid the driver of the buggy that had brought him from the railroad station and picked up his leather bag, then walked the hedge-lined sidewalk to the front porch of his small but elegant home. Only
then did he realize someone was sitting in the swing on his front porch.

“Jeremy! What are you doing here at this hour!”

“Your office said you’d be home about now. How did it go?”

“I got the man off.” Hawk frowned, noticing the strained look on his uncle’s face. “What is it! Is it Grandma?”

Jeremy sighed and rose, shaking his head. “No. It’s Wolf’s Blood. Your father is home—at the ranch. He wants to see both of us. I don’t like the sound of it, Hawk. Sweet Bird’s letters have told us his arthritis is getting worse. You know how like your grandfather he is.”

Hawk felt the remaining energy go out of him, and he set down his bag. “Damn!” he muttered. He’d wanted so badly to see his father once more, but not under these circumstances. There was only one reason Wolf’s Blood would finally come back to the land where he was still a wanted man.

Twenty-five

The family was together again, but with many new faces, family members who were not present at the original reunion: Sweet Bird, Little Eagle, Laughing Turtle; Louellen, Jonathan, Marian, James; Lillian’s fiancé, Matt Wilkerson, a boot- and saddle-maker; Nathan’s wife Susan and their family; Raphael, Miguel, Julio and Eduardo; Georgeanne, with her and Zeke’s two sons, Peter and Jason. New faces, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, new generations to take the place of the old.

Abbie thought how joyous the occasion could still be if not for the cloud hanging over Wolf’s Blood’s head. Still, being Monroes, everyone put up a good front, deciding that nothing should detract from their pleasure in having the family together again, and all could feel the spiritual presences of their uncles, Dan and Swift Arrow; the more powerful presence of Zeke Monroe. Abbie could see all her children and grandchildren had Zeke’s stubborn strength, his smile, his courage. They were survivors.

Other than a tearful reunion between Hawk and his father, and between Jeremy and Wolf’s Blood, nothing more had been said yet about why Wolf’s Blood was here. For a few days he wanted only family togetherness, and Abbie suspected there was something else he wanted from Hawk besides taking him to Denver to
turn himself in. He seemed to constantly be finding ways to bring Sweet Bird and Hawk together, making them sit beside each other at the supper table, insisting Hawk spend time with his new little brother and sister and get to know Sweet Bird better, since he wanted Hawk to help care for his family in case something happened to him. Abbie suspected Wolf’s Blood meant more than monetary support and an older brother’s guidance for his children. Hawk did not seem to understand yet what his father was after, but there was no doubt in Abbie’s mind that her grandson did appreciate Sweet Bird’s gracious beauty and gentle personality. He probably loved her simply because she loved Wolf’s Blood and had given his father some bit of happiness in these last years.

This morning Wolf’s Blood had insisted Hawk take Sweet Bird and the children on a ride around the perimeter of the old, original ranch, even though Hawk was not even sure himself of just what the boundaries were. He had not been raised here as Wolf’s Blood had, but Wolf’s Blood told him the landmarks to look for, then asked him to tell Sweet Bird some stories about the family, about his grandfather and grandmother.

The younger children played, the older boys helped Morgan with chores, and the women were in the house discussing what to prepare for lunch. Abbie watched Wolf’s Blood strain to lift his son onto a horse in front of Hawk, his daughter onto a horse in front of Sweet Bird, who today had decided to wear an Indian tunic rather than a white woman’s dress. The tunic pulled up slightly when she straddled her horse, revealing her tawny, slender thighs. Abbie almost laughed, guessing Wolf’s Blood had asked her to wear the tunic. He said something more to Hawk, then smacked the horses and sent them on their way. Abbie stood on the porch and waited, noticing her son watched his wife and his
son for a very long time, until they disappeared over a hill. When he turned and headed back to the house, Abbie greeted him with folded arms.

“You should have gone with them,” she suggested. “You know more about this place than Hawk does.” She could see the hurt behind the twinkle in his dark eyes.

“I have too many aches and pains now. Riding is hard for me.”

“Oh? You were always an even better rider than your own father. I hardly think you would allow a few aches and pains to keep you off a horse’s back.
You
are the one who should be off riding with your wife, considering that the two of you probably don’t have much time left together.”

He watched her closely, then smiled sadly. “You have always been too smart for me, Mother. Father could never hide anything from you, and neither can I.” As he started inside, Abbie grasped his arm.

“You can’t force love, Wolf’s Blood.”

He turned and looked to the hill over which his son and wife had disappeared. “I know Sweet Bird. And I know my son. I won’t have to force anything. It will happen naturally.” He met her eyes. “Did you see how he looked this morning, his hair hanging loose? He feels very Indian today, I think. I remember when I was like that, strong and sure and handsome. That is the kind of husband my Sweet Bird should have, not a crippled old man.” He sighed. “She is a good, good woman. Hawk will see that.” He put a hand over his mother’s. “When my father died, did you not marry his brother?”

Abbie reddened a little. “That was years later.”

“You were older, and your children were mostly grown. You did not need a man so much in the way Sweet Bird will need one. But even so, be honest with me, Mother. What was the main reason you married
Swift Arrow? Because he was lonely, and you were? Or was it perhaps because he reminded you so much of my father?”

She let go of his hand and turned away. “Now
you
are the one who is being too clever.”

Wolf’s Blood smiled, touching her shoulder. “Hawk
is
very much like me in looks and temperament, don’t you think? He is his father’s son.”

He squeezed her shoulder and left her, and Abbie slowly sat down on a porch swing, memories flooding in on her … Swift Arrow … Zeke. Yes, Sweet Bird would be needing a man; right now she was full of fear and worry, a vulnerable woman. Hawk was still hurting from Arianne’s scorn. “You’re a devil, Wolf’s Blood,” she muttered, realizing his timing was perfect, and he damn well knew it.

The day turned blistering hot, and Hawk guided his horse to a swimming hole he remembered from when he was a little boy. He was pleased with the fine Appaloosa he was riding. His uncle, Morgan, had kept up with his grandfather Zeke’s reputation of breeding and raising only the best horses, which were sold to buyers from all over Colorado and even into Kansas and Nebraska.

“I remember coming here when I was a little boy and lived here at the ranch for a while with my Apache mother while my father was away with Grandfather Zeke. This little pond is a breakoff from the river, so you can swim in it without worrying about getting caught in the current. I thought the kids might like to take off their clothes and get cooled off.”

“Oh, they would love it!” Sweet Bird answered.

Hawk dismounted, lifting down Little Eagle. He walked over and took Laughing Turtle from Sweet Bird,
unable to avoid noticing her lovely legs as she slid down from her horse. About halfway through their ride this morning it had hit him what his father was up to. The knowledge had left him confused and a little angry, not just with Wolf’s Blood, but with himself for being so well educated and such a clever lawyer, yet allowing himself to be blind as to what was going on. Did Sweet Bird understand it, or was she just being led along by Wolf’s Blood, too?
Damn him
, he thought. He loved the man beyond description, but the decisions Wolf’s Blood had made in life often frustrated him. It was the Indian in Wolf’s Blood that made him do some of those things he did. Some customs were born and bred into a man, educated or not. It was simply the way.

The sweltering heat did nothing to ease Hawk’s frustration, but he forced himself to give Sweet Bird the benefit of the doubt and not blame her for any of this. What irritated him most was that he had some of the feelings his father wanted him to have. He already loved Little Eagle and Laughing Turtle, and it was not easy to ignore Sweet Bird’s beauty, both in body and spirit. He’d held a deep appreciation for both since first meeting her five years ago.

Already Sweet Bird had removed Laughing Turtle’s simple cotton dress, her drawers and moccasins, and the little girl screamed and laughed as she toddled to the edge of the pond, sitting down in a shallow spot and splashing water with her hands. Little Eagle took off his own clothes and went farther in. Hawk laughed at their excitement, thinking how good the cool water must feel. “It’s not deep anyplace, as I remember,” he told Sweet Bird.

She took off her own moccasins and waded in to take Laughing Turtle farther in, holding the little girl’s hands while she wriggled and jumped on her chunky little legs. Laughing Turtle’s smile was infectious, set
off by the deep dimples in her cheeks and her big and bright eyes. Hawk felt a pain in his chest at the thought of how ignorant the children were of what could soon happen to their father. If only the whole world could be as innocent and accepting as children.

“The water feels wonderful,” Sweet Bird told him. “I wish I could also cool off this way.”

A picture of how she must look naked flashed into his mind, and he turned away, wanting to hit something. “Go ahead, if you want. I won’t look.”

Sweet Bird dipped Laughing Turtle, and the girl giggled and sputtered. Sweet Bird thought how nice it would be if Wolf’s Blood could be here with them, but she understood why he was not. She could not help but feel a flush of attraction for Hawk. Few men were as handsome, and she suspected Wolf’s Blood had been very much like his son at Hawk’s age. “Are you sure it is all right? What about you? You must be very hot also.”

“I’m all right.”

Sweet Bird glanced over to see that Little Eagle was fine. He was in deeper water, but he was hanging onto a log and splashing his feet. She set Laughing Turtle in the shallow water again, then removed her tunic. “Do not look until I tell you it is all right.” Most Indian women didn’t wear anything under their tunics, but she had grown accustomed to wearing drawers. She removed those also, then picked up Laughing Turtle and carried her into deeper water. “Oh, it feels wonderful, Hawk!” She lowered herself to her neck, holding her wriggling daughter’s chubby little body only halfway in the water and wincing when the child kicked water in her face. “You should come in, too! It is all right. We are related now, you know. I will not look if you want to come and get cool.”

He walked closer to the edge, taking off his boots and shirt. “I’ll just get my feet wet and splash some
water over my face and shoulders.” He was growing angrier with his father by the minute. This was a damn awkward situation, and he sure as hell was going to talk to the man about it. He leaned down and relished the feel of the cold water as he threw some over his face and neck and shoulders. “It is cooling. We’d better get back pretty soon, though. They’ll have lunch ready.” He looked at Sweet Bird, instantly alarmed when he saw her standing waist-high in the water, clinging to Laughing Turtle and suddenly unconcerned about her nakedness.

“Hawk! Hawk! I cannot see him! I cannot see him!”

Hawk knew she was referring to Little Eagle, who, he now noticed, was no longer kicking and splashing beside the log. The log itself was positioned differently. It must have slipped a little. “What the hell?”

“Hawk, find him! Find him!”

Hawk ran into the pond, wading past Sweet Bird and realizing this area was deeper now than it had been years ago. A slight undercurrent told him the river was taking more control over the pond, eating away at the center and making it deeper and more dangerous. He swam to the log, dived under it and felt around. The water was so murky he could see nothing. He came up for air, his heart pounding at Sweet Bird’s screams of terror. Wolf’s Blood’s situation was bad enough for her. It would be terrible if she lost one of her children.

He dived down again, frantically grasping at everything he touched, finally sure he had hold of a child’s arm. He held on tight, feeling a little body, pulling the boy up with him. He gasped and choked for air when he came up the second time, half blaming himself for this. It would be terrible for Wolf’s Blood as well if his precious little son died! And this was Hawk’s little brother, a part of his father that would go on forever.

“God save him! Save him!” Sweet Bird wept. She followed
Hawk as he carried the boy’s limp, naked body ashore and laid it in the grass beside the pond. “My son! My Little Eagle! How did this happen!” She knelt beside them, rocking a now-crying Laughing Turtle.

Hawk noticed a bloody cut on the boy’s forehead. “The log somehow rolled. He must have slipped when it did, then gotten hit on the head.” He cleared Little Eagle’s airway, rolled the boy onto his stomach and pressed on his back. “Come on, Little Eagle! You weren’t under that long! Spit the water out and start breathing!” He noticed some water gush out of the boy’s mouth. Placing an arm under Little Eagle’s stomach and raising him to his knees, he pounded on his back some more, until finally Little Eagle began coughing and sputtering and finally threw up. Hawk quickly carried the boy back to the water, helping him wash his face and rinse his mouth, talking soothingly to him. “You’ll be all right, Little Eagle.” He felt like crying himself, only then realizing just how much he loved these children who might soon lose their father. Someone had to be a father to them.

“Is he all right?” A still-crying Sweet Bird stood beside him, holding Laughing Turtle. She finally set the little girl down and pulled Little Eagle into her arms. “Dear God, thank you!” She wept. “I could not live without my babies!” She looked up at Hawk, then hugged him with one arm while grasping Little Eagle with the other. “You saved him!”

Hawk embraced her, trying to ignore the naked breasts pressed against his chest. “It’s my own damn fault it happened,” he answered. “I should have checked out the depth before I let any of you go in. It was different when I was little.” He let go of her and stooped down to check a still-dazed Little Eagle. “How do you feel, little brother?”

The boy put a hand to his head. “I don’t know. What happened?”

“You hit your head somehow and slipped under the water. You scared us, Little Eagle.” He made the boy sit down. “Stay right there and rest a minute. Then we’ll get dressed and go back to the ranch house.”

The boy blinked, his eyes tearing. He kept hold of Hawk’s hand. “Is something bad going to happen to my father? Mama is always sad.”

Hawk glanced at Sweet Bird as she knelt down beside them, her waist-length hair hanging in wet strings over her shoulders and breasts. “It is a time for all of us to be very brave,” she told her son. “Your father wishes to die like a proud warrior. He has explained this to you.”