Embrace the Wild Land (22 page)

“Mister, there isn’t a war or anything else horrible that could happen to me that would make me push around an old woman. A man with any guts and honor would die of hunger first.” He held his foot hard until the man stopped struggling, then picked his way through the mud to pick up the blankets and flour. He
walked them back to the old woman to return them to her, setting them down beside her and bending over to help her up. He grasped a thin arm and raised her up, but when he turned her around there was blood on her forehead where she had hit a rock. Her withered face was covered with mud, as was the frayed pink ruffled dress she wore. He knew in an instant that she was dead.

He did not know her. Yet the way she died pierced his heart. She should have died in peace, rocking beside a hearth and enjoying her grandchildren. Seeing her lying there, dead and muddied and skeletal, suddenly brought terror to his own heart, terror for what might lie ahead for his Abbie. Surely such suffering would one day come to his people. Would Abbie suffer for loving them?

He looked around at others who scurried here and there with their loot, people who would not normally even consider robbing and plundering the property of others, but people who were now desperate and starving. No one seemed to notice the old lady. Apparently no one was particularly concerned and surely none of them was family.

In the distance he could hear cannon as the Union soldiers approached. He picked up the old lady and layed her over his mount, then climbed up and rode north into the hills. Someone should bury her. He could not bring himself to leave her lying in the street, only to be shoveled into a mass grave by the Federals.

He headed his mount into the woods north of Nashville, a place that was quiet and overlooked the city. He took a spade from his gear and started shoveling. It would take a lot of time and work with nothing bigger to work with, but he was determined and angry. He shoveled hard and dirt flew as he struggled against tears that he could not explain. Why should he care so much
for this old woman he did not know? Was he missing Gentle Woman, his own Cheyenne mother? Yes. He always missed her. Yet somehow that was not what this old woman reminded him of. It was something else. He knew deep in the hidden crevices of his mind what it was, but he refused to believe that he might be worried about his father—his real father. Old and lonely, Emily had told them.
“He truly did love you, Zeke,”
she had said.
“He longs to see you again before he dies.”

He shoveled faster until the hole was finally deep enough. Then he gently laid the old woman inside of it and started shoveling the dirt over her. Soon the pink dress and withered face disappeared. In the distance below, Union soldiers rode into Nashville, followed by freed Negroes who were singing songs of joy, men who would now look to their “saviors” to guide them in their new life.

Zeke fashioned a little cross from sticks, sure the old white woman must have been Christian. Again he thought of Abbie and her Bible and her prayers. She would have wanted him to bury this woman and put a cross at her grave.

He rose and mounted up, watching for a few minutes the Union troops move into Nashville, the Negroes trudging faithfully behind them.

“Don’t expect any help from your new white friends,” he muttered. He turned his horse and gazed out to the south—south … where the old farm was, where his father was. For a moment he considered going there, but then he headed out in another direction. He was here to find Danny and for no other reason. He headed east. He would make his way toward Virginia, where he had heard General Lee and a great Confederate fighter by the name of Stonewall Jackson would carry out major defenses. Finding Danny would be like finding a needle in a haystack. Perhaps the man
had died of his wounds after escaping. This was a much more difficult task than he had anticipated, but he hated the thought of going home with no news of his brother.

He headed out into the woods, leaving the fresh grave behind him, trying to not think about the fact that time and weather would someday destroy the little marker, and no one would ever know the little old woman was buried there. He wondered how many other unmarked graves this war would leave through the hills and farmlands of the South. This was indeed a bloody and cruel war.

Abbie sponged Lance’s face again, her heart aching at the man’s pain. Through the night he had groaned and sweated, but in the early morning he had seemed to sleep well. Now it seemed the pain was returning. Major Mayes stood warming himself by the stove, glancing periodically at a watchful Wolf’s Blood and feeling nervous under the boy’s defensive gaze. The boy had not slept or put down his rifle since the arrival of the soldiers. The boy’s Indian features told the major that it must be true that his father was a half-breed. The possibility of the man being a half-brother to Lance Monroe seemed incredible, matched only by the fact that the beautiful white woman who had removed Lance’s bullet and nursed him faithfully through the night was actually married to the half-breed and had mothered the wild-looking lad who watched him now.

“I can’t begin to express my gratefulness for giving us a place to hole up and for helping Private Monroe,” the major spoke up to Abbie. “We will leave you as soon as Lance can travel.”

Abbie looked up at the man. “Will you see that he gets home to his father’s farm?”

“I’ll do what I can. But we’ve lost our stronghold in
the West, ma’am. It will be difficult just to get out of here alive. We’re surrounded by Unionists. I don’t even know where the closest Confederate encampment is. We’ve lost contact. But if we can just get through to Tennessee, he can go on from there.”

“Is it really that bad, Mister Mayes? The war?”

His eyes saddened. “It’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen or hope to see again. Plantations and cities are ravaged and it’s getting worse. The Federals have us surrounded. They come up from the south by sea, down from the north on the rivers, and now they have the West. I’ve seen battlefields red with blood. Citizen and soldier alike are starving, dying of disease and exposure. Yes, ma’am, it’s a terrible thing, with son turning against father, brother against brother, old friends plunging bayonets into one another.”

She sighed and swallowed. “And … what about those who do not choose sides, like my husband?”

Mayes twisted his hat in his hand. This woman was alone with seven children to care for, a woman who had lived in this lonely, savage land for many years. “I’m … sure he’ll be all right, ma’am.”

She smiled sadly. “I thank you for your kind lie, Mister Mayes.” She looked back down at Lance, who stirred and opened his eyes for the first time since he had been brought to her. “He’s awake!” she exclaimed, putting a cool cloth to his forehead again. “You must lie still, Lance,” she spoke up softly.

He looked up at her lovely face through blurred vision, totally unaware of where he was and thinking perhaps he was dreaming that he was warm and a woman’s soft voice had just spoken to him. In spite of his pain, Abbie could not help her terrible curiosity. She must know.

“Tell me,” she told the man as he looked around the room, blinking and trying to get his bearings. “Your
last name is Monroe.” The man looked back at her and frowned in confusion. “Are … are you related to a Danny Monroe, and a Zeke Monroe? Is your father Hugh Monroe?”

He swallowed. “My … brothers … Danny and … Zeke. Lenny. And my father … Hugh.” His body shuddered. “Am I … home?”

Abbie could not stop a sob from jerking at her shoulders. She sniffed and swallowed. “My God!” she whispered, bending down and placing her cheek against Lance’s. He breathed in her feminine smell and was comforted. “I am … your brother’s wife … Zeke’s wife,” she told him. “You’re in Colorado Territory. You’ve lost a lot of blood, Lance. Just lie still.”

She pulled back and Lance stared at her, his vision more clear now. How lovely she was! Had God brought him to this place, to the wife of the brother he had not seen in twenty years? So this was she! The mysterious white woman Zeke had married and who had agreed to live in Indian-territory for his sake.

He quietly studied her, his eyes moving over her lovely form. She wore a plain cotton dress, choosing to dress as a white woman around the white soldiers, to ensure they afforded her proper respect. She was shapely and well-preserved, and Lance was surprised, half expecting a weathered, tired woman who had aged before her time. But she was the prettiest woman he had seen in quite some time.

“You … you’re … Abigail?” he asked.

“Yes.” She took his hand. “But I’m sorry to say Zeke is not here. How wonderful it would be if he could see you! It seems so ironic. He has gone back East to look for Danny. We learned that Danny was wounded at Shiloh and taken prisoner. Zeke went to see if he could locate him.”

“Danny? Shiloh?” He closed his eyes. “If he was
… at Shiloh.… he can’t be alive. I heard … about Shiloh.”

She squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry about Danny,” she told him. “You have no idea the kind of man Zeke is. He’ll survive, and he’ll find Danny and get him back to the farm. And that is where you must go when you’re healed. Your father needs you, Lance.” She thought about mentioning Lenny’s death, but perhaps he did not know yet. This would be a bad time to tell him. “With … with all his sons gone off to war, he’s a lonely man. You must get back home and let him know you’re all right.”

He turned his eyes to study her again. “You’re … truly Abigail … Zeke’s wife?”

She smiled softly. “I truly am.”

“Danny … wrote us about you … talked about you a couple of times … when he managed to get back home. The wagon train … how you lost your family and met my brother.” His eyes moved around the room, coming to rest on Wolf’s Blood. “Zeke! He’s right there!” he said in a weakening voice.

Abbie looked at her son then laughed lightly. “I suppose the way you remember him when he left, you would think so,” she told the man. “That is Wolf’s Blood, our first-born and oldest son. He looks very much like Zeke.”

His breathing quickened from the exertion of just talking. “I’ll … be damned,” he muttered.

“We’ll talk more when you’re better,” Abbie told the young man. “You must get some more rest now, Lance.”

The major knelt down beside the young man. “We’ll wait for a while, Monroe. I hope you get better soon enough to travel with us, but if not we may have to go on without you. The rest of the men need some time to rest up, too, so we’ll give it a few days. Mrs. Monroe
here has been kind enough to allow us to camp out right here and take turns coming in by the fire.”

Lance met the man’s eyes. “Don’t let … any of the men treat her with … disrespect,” he told the officer. “She’s my … brother’s wife … and she’s from Tennessee. When the men … come inside … make sure they treat her right.”

“They do, son,” the officer reassured the boy. He glanced at Abbie, aware of how tempting she was to the others, for she was tempting also to him. But there was an air of saintliness about her that made a man back off, as though to touch her would be to burn in hell forever. She was a proud, strong woman who had known suffering. She was not a woman to be taken lightly or toyed with. But he could not help thinking what it might be like for a man to lie close beside her in the night. She was reserved and proper with strangers, but he did not doubt she was warm and responsive to the man she loved. He rose and walked to the door. “I’m sending in two others now, ma’am.”

“Make sure they bring no weapons inside,” Wolf’s Blood spoke up, his eyes dark and menacing.

The major smiled lightly, very impressed by the young man’s manliness and his touching defense of his mother. “Your wish is my command, young man,” he replied. He nodded to Abbie again and walked out.

“My side … hurts awful!” Lance groaned. Abbie’s attention was immediately drawn back to the brother-in-law she had never known until now.

“The pain will go away in another day or two. I took a bullet out of you, Lance. But I don’t think anything vital was damaged.”

He looked at her in surprise. “You?”

She smiled and nodded. “I’ve done it before—took a bullet out of Zeke, in fact, that first summer we met.”

Lance smiled. “Zeke. I bet …he’s got plenty of
scars. Danny told us … about all the things he’s done … how he can use the knife.”

Her heart tightened at the thought of him. Was he even still alive? Zeke! How much longer would she have to endure the lonely nights? How much longer must she be strong of her own will, without his strong arms around her, his broad shoulder to lean on, his tender words of reassurance, the protection of his mere presence?

“Yes, he has plenty of scars,” she replied. “But he always tells me he’s too mean to die.”

Lance almost laughed, except that he ended up crying out in pain instead. Abbie grasped his hand again. “I … bet he is!” Lance groaned. He clung to her hand. “Hold my hand, ma’am … till I fall asleep again … will you?”

She took his hand as two more men came inside, their collars turned up against the cold and wind. One was very young, perhaps eighteen, a sandy-haired boy with soft blue eyes. This was his second time in the house, and his eyes roved the room, searching for the fetching young daughter he had seen the first time. He finally caught her peeking at him around the curtained doorway of her mother’s bedroom. He flashed a handsome smile, and Margaret quickly pulled back, closing the curtain. Wolf’s Blood watched defensively, fully aware of his sister’s beauty.

Seventeen

Anna Gale glided away from a roulette table to greet Winston Garvey, who was shaking hands and feigning jovial friendship with several prominent Denver businessmen who dared to frequent Anna’s saloon and gambling hall. Most area citizens saw only that; what went on in the upper rooms was passed off as mere rumor. It was true, and most knew, that Anna Gale had once been the most notorious and beautiful prostitute in Santa Fe, the reputation she brought with her to Denver. But in the last few years she had become more conservative in her attire and had built a new gambling hall that boasted the best in decor, a saloon/restaurant/gambling hall so elegant that people found it easy to overlook Anna Gale’s past or what might even still be going on in the upper rooms. After all, if one wanted to impress another with a night out on the town at the very best places, Anna’s place was one of those on the list, one of the places where most area businessmen wined and dined, perhaps crude by Eastern standards, but plush by Western standards.

Garvey removed his hat and bowed to her, pretending, as always, that he was no more than an acquaintance and frequent customer. Anna gave him a
sly grin.

“And where have you been, Senator?” she asked. “Haven’t seen you for quite some time.”

“Oh, I’ve had a lot of business to attend to back East, you know.” He smiled, his eyes roving her luscious body knowingly. She knew he would end up in her room for the night, and much as she detested this man who had once ruled her like a chained dog, she would oblige. She owed him nothing now, but it was wise to remain on friendly terms with men like Winston Garvey.

“How about a drink on the house?” she asked.

“Never turn one down,” he replied.

She turned and sauntered toward the bar, and he watched her walk, her red satin dress hazy from the smoke-filled air. She had a way of walking that had helped make her a rich woman. Men still wanted her. She was in her early thirties now, but one would never guess. Unlike other whores, this one had taken care of her unusual beauty. She was selective of her customers and had stayed away from heavy drinking and smoked only occasionally. She never overpainted her face, and her clothes were not quite as gaudy as most whores dressed. Garvey stepped up to the long, oak bar and stood beside her while she ordered the bartender to pour the man a shot of the best whiskey he had. She turned to face Garvey, her blue eyes vivid and fetching.

“And what dirty deal did you make back East this time?” she asked him with a wicked grin.

“Come now, my sweet, I don’t always make dirty deals.”

“Oh? Well, invite me the next time you make a fair one. I’d like to see it.”

The man guffawed and picked up his glass of whiskey, raising it slightly. “To an exquisitely beautiful
woman,” he toasted, his eyes dropping for a moment to the ivory skin of her enticingly exposed breasts.

She watched him cautiously. She knew this man too well. He had something up his sleeve.

“You seem unusually happy tonight, Senator,” she told the man. “The deals you made must have been exceedingly rotten.”

Garvey laughed again. “Now, Anna, you overestimate my evil.”

“That would be impossible,” she replied, sobering. “And that son of yours is going to give you a run for your money.”

He frowned. “Now, Anna, don’t insult my fine son. He’s a chip off the old block. Actually, that’s part of the reason I have been gone. I got Charles settled in college back East. He’ll be gone two or three years. He’ll be home summers, of course.”

She could barely hide the relief on her face. Charles Garvey would not be around to pester her for a while. Even whores had a sexual code, and Charles Garvey went beyond it. She hated the boy and shuddered whenever he came around, reading in his eyes that if she did not participate in some of the odd sexual fantasies he dreamed up, the demented boy just might decide to beat her or scar her for life with a knife. He was not to be trusted, and not to be insulted.

“Well,” Anna replied, turning away to hide her pleasure at the news, “it took you a long time to get the boy settled. You’ve been gone half the winter.” She reached for the whiskey bottle and turned back to pour another shot into Garvey’s glass.

“Charles was a little bit nervous about the whole thing,” he answered. “We are very close, you know. So between that and all the holdings I still have back East to settle, I took an apartment and stayed there for a while, until the boy got used to his new surroundings.”

She nodded. “I see. And did you get all the loose ends tied up?”

He grinned wickedly. “I did.” He looked her hard in the eyes, and she told herself to be alert.

“Good,” she told him. “I, uh, suppose you want to go upstairs later.”

The man shrugged. “Perhaps. But actually, Anna, I came here to ask you about Zeke Monroe.”

The color drained from her face and her smile quickly faded. Garvey grinned at the look on her face, as though someone had just hit her in the gut. She had been prepared for him to pull something, but she never expected him to mention Zeke. She turned away, frantically trying to keep her thoughts straight. He knew something! She had to protect Zeke. How much did this man know, and how had he found out?

“My, my, Anna, I didn’t mean to draw such a reaction,” he told her with a joyous gleam in his eye. “I dare say Zeke Monroe left quite an impression on you at one time. I must admit I never dreamed any man could make you expose your emotions this way, or that you even had such emotions.” He chuckled lightly. “But then I know who the man is, and I dare say he must be quite a specimen in bed. Any man who can shake up an experienced woman like you is quite a man.” He reached out and traced a finger over the satiny skin of her shoulder. “However, my dear, the man is married, quite happily, I hear. How on earth did you ever get him into your warm bed?”

She quickly turned back to face him, and he was surprised to see she had tears in her eyes. “What is it you want, Garvey?” she hissed.

He smiled like a man who had just won a prize. “You have already given it to me by your reaction, my sweet,” he told her. “You saw this Monroe fellow—in
Denver—about three or four years ago. In fact, you even helped him out of a bit of trouble, I’m told.” He leaned on the bar and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Now, isn’t it a coincidence that it was just about that same time that you broke the news to me about my having a half-breed son? I wonder who could have given you that information?”

She stiffened, regaining her composure. “I have a lot of sources.”

“I’m sure you do, my pet. But so do I. I’m going to let you sit and wonder how in hell I discovered Zeke Monroe was here in Denver those years back. But the discovery of it began to make a lot of things clear to me. I’ve been pondering the whole thing over these last several months, making notes, connecting things. And I’ll tell you what I came up with. About nine or ten years ago, when I still lived near Santa Fe, and you ran a whorehouse there, I had an Indian slave—an Arapaho woman named Yellow Moon. She’d been married to a Cheyenne man and was sold off to outlaws for whiskey. Her son was murdered by those same outlaws and she eventually was sold to you. You couldn’t make a decent prostitute out of her because she was half crazy from the death of her son, so I very kindly took the woman off your hands.”

“I didn’t know what else to do with her. If I had just turned her out she would have died. At least with you she had shelter and food.”

He feigned admiration for her concern, shaking his head and pursing his lips. “Oh, Anna, your generosity and kindness overwhelm me,” he touted. Then he leaned closer. “Well, I was equally kind. I took her in.”

“And made a sexual slave of her, I dare say,” Anna said quietly, the hatred beginning to gleam in her eyes. “I’ve changed since then, my dear Senator. I regret
giving that poor woman over to you.”

“Tut, tut, Anna. Let’s not spoil your dirty image. Besides, I want to finish my story.”

“I don’t want to hear it!” she snapped, turning and walking away. But he quickly moved up behind her, grasping her arm so tightly that it hurt.

“How about finishing this conversation in your office in back?” he told her quietly.

She winced from the pain and did not want to make a scene in front of her customers. She smiled for them as she moved toward her office, her heart racing. Zeke! If only she could hate him! If only she didn’t care! The worst part was she even cared about his wife, admired her for her courage and goodness. Abigail Monroe was everything Anna now wished she could be. But there was no hope for that. She walked into her office and Garvey closed the door behind them.

“Let’s see now. Where was I?” he goaded.

“You were taking advantage of a poor, mourning Indian woman who was half crazy from the death of her baby boy,” Anna replied. “You were taking advantage of her mental condition and planting your fat, stinking body over hers.” She whirled. “Something you’ll never do with me again.”

His eyebrows arched. “My goodness, Anna! Why I truly believe you’re in love with Zeke Monroe. Can that be possible? Is that why you’re reacting to your old friend this way? Because you consider me a threat to your half-breed lover?”

She stepped closer. “You’re a threat to humanity of any kind!” she replied bitterly.

There was suddenly a sharp sting to her face and she found herself on the floor, red finger marks on her cheek where Garvey had slapped her hard.

“You bitch!” he glowered. “You owe me everything! And you owed me this! You should have told
me—years ago!”

She blinked back tears, grasping her desk as she got back to her feet. “Told you what?” she replied stubbornly. “I have nothing to tell you.”

“You have plenty to tell me!” he growled. “Zeke Monroe came searching for his sister-in-law. And somehow he traced her to my place. He told me it was one of the other girls who ratted on me. But it was you, wasn’t it? It was my old friend and confidante, Anna Gale. How did he get you to tell, sweet Anna? Was he so well endowed that he made you gasp out the information so that you could have another piece of him?”

“Stop it!” she yelled. “He’s not that kind of man.”

“Is that so? Well, my little whore, there is only one way to make a bitch like you talk, and that’s to get between your legs and give you a damned good time!”

“I made him do it!” she blurted out, whirling. “He didn’t want to—”

Garvey burst out laughing. “Tell me another one, my sweet.”

She turned around again, wanting desperately to shoot this man. “You bastard!” she whimpered. “A hundred men like you wouldn’t be worth Zeke Monroe’s little finger.”

He watched her, glowing with great pride in his accomplishment and cleverness. “That depends on what you’re judging,” the man replied. “But no matter. The point is, it was Zeke Monroe who came to my place and threatened me into giving up Yellow Moon. And it was Zeke Monroe who saw you in Denver later. And after that you came to me with the news that I have a half-breed son floating around someplace. Now my guess is that it was Zeke Monroe who told you that. I don’t know what compelled him to do that, but it was a mistake. And now you are going to tell me where the boy is.”

She turned to face him, her cheek even redder against her paled skin. “I don’t know,” she answered, hanging her head. “I honestly don’t know one thing about the boy. I only know that he exists. The mother has been dead for a long time. Zeke only gave me enough information to use against you—to get out from under your fat thumb!”

“Well it worked—for a while. You’re still free, sweet Anna. I owe you nothing now, and you owe me nothing. We’re even. I can get the rest of my information elsewhere.”

He turned to leave.

“Where?” she demanded.

He turned to face her, grinning slyly. “Anna, my pet, a man like me has all kinds of ways to spy on people and find out what he needs to know. I dare say that by the time I am through, it will be Zeke himself telling me where that boy is.” He opened the door.

“Garvey!” she yelled out.

He looked back at her again, closing the door so no one would hear. She stepped closer, her eyes glazed with hatred. “Go ahead and try it!” she hissed. “I sincerely hope that you try to give Zeke Monroe trouble. And I’ll tell you why. It’s because I will take great joy in seeing what Zeke does to you in return. You don’t mess with men like that, my fat senator. You do anything against that man or his family, and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life, only that life won’t last very long!”

“The man’s a common, dirty half-breed!” Garvey sneered. “Men like that are no threat to men like me.”

She smiled then, true joy in her eyes. “I hope I’m around when Zeke Monroe comes after you, Winston Garvey!” she glowered. “It will be the happiest day of my life.”

He just scowled and left, slamming the door behind
him. Anna sank into a chair, suddenly enveloped with uncontrolled sobbing.

“Zeke!” she whispered, the old ache returning, the longing to be with him just once more.

Margaret stepped out onto the porch to retrieve more wood for the stone oven next to the fireplace, which her mother used for baking. She loaded up one arm when she heard her name spoken softly. She turned in the direction of the voice, and the handsome young white boy with the sandy hair was peeking at her from around the corner. She could not help but smile, for he’d been smiling and winking at her regularly for the past twelve days, and she could not control the flutter he brought to her young heart.

“Come and walk with me?” he said quietly. “We leave in just a couple of days.”

Margaret looked toward the doorway, then back at the young man. “It wouldn’t be proper,” she answered.

“Proper!” he exclaimed in a near whisper. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen since I left home, and pretty soon I’ll be gone for who knows how long, little girl. But I intend to come back, because I intend to see you again. So what’s wrong with a little walk? Don’t you like me?”

She felt flushed. “I … like you very much, Mister Troy.”

He winked again. “Call me Billy. I’ll be waiting.” He darted back around the corner, and Margaret walked back inside with the wood, her mind whirling. She was too enamored and too ignorant of men to wonder why the young man did not simply come inside and ask her mother if he might walk with her. She was caught up in the secrecy of it, and automatically believed it was best not to tell.