Embrace the Wild Land (28 page)

Zeke’s mind raced in confusion. How he hated Tennessee and this farm! Now here was Lance telling him he’d seen Abbie, seen his ranch, seen his children. And there had been trouble! He had not been there to help. His anxiety to get home made him feel as though he could not breathe. “What happened, Lance?” he asked, grasping the man’s arm firmly.

Lance sighed. “I probably shouldn’t even have mentioned it. It was just one of those things, Zeke—you know, a pretty young girl, a lonely soldier. Your daughter—the dark one, Margaret. She had an eye for one of the men, that’s all. The bastard was nice to her—till he got her alone. Then he got fresh—scared her some, that’s all. He didn’t hurt her or anything like that. But he insulted her pretty bad, I’m afraid. Called her squaw—you know. I’d have landed into him myself, but I was still recovering from my wound. Besides, that son of yours got to him first.” Lance grinned and shook his head. “The kid would have killed him if they hadn’t been pulled apart. That boy is the strongest fifteen-year-old I’ve ever seen.”

Zeke turned away, his heart heavy for poor Margaret, but full of pride for his son. So Wolf’s Blood was doing a fine job of protecting his mother and sisters. That was good. “He’s sixteen now,” he told Lance in a strained voice. “And he’s as much a man as you and I.” How he missed his son. How he missed all of them. And Abbie. “Are you sure my daughter wasn’t harmed?” he asked.

“She’s fine, Zeke. Really. Just hurt pride. But your wife talked to her. I think she made the girl feel better. Your wife has a way with words. She’s a hell of a woman, Zeke. I envy you, brother. If I could find somebody like that, I’d settle down, too.” He put a hand on Zeke’s arm. “Hey, they’re OK, Zeke,
really.” He sighed deeply. “I probably shouldn’t even have told you. That’s no way to get you to stay.”

Zeke turned. “It isn’t that, Lance. I’m sure they were all right when you left. But … I’ve had this feeling. I had a bad dream. I’ve had them before. I can’t help thinking something else has gone wrong. Something much worse than what you’ve told me. I feel it in my bones and I don’t like it. I’ve got to get back to them—as fast as I can ride without killing my mount.”

Lance frowned and nodded. “Sure. A man gets those feelings sometimes. And I guess if I was married to a woman like your Abbie, I’d be anxious to get back, too.” Lance wished he’d known Zeke in his growing up years. Here stood the man who had been the subject of stories and rumors in Tennessee for years. Here stood the long lost brother. Looking at him now, Lance could not imagine the gentle white woman named Abbie lying beneath this tall, broad, fierce-looking Indian man who had probably killed so many men he had no idea of the count. He smiled. “Thank you, Zeke, for finding Danny. Someday I just might come on back out West. I expect Danny will return to Fort Laramie when he’s able and this damned war is over—if the army will take him back, that is.”

Zeke forced a smile, but his eyes were watery. “They’ll take him. He’s a damned good soldier—one of the best.” He looked at his younger brother. “I’m glad to see you, Lance—see how you turned out and all. You’re a good man—a lot like Danny.”

“And so are you a good man,” Lance returned. “Doesn’t that tell you something about our pa? We all came from the same seed, Zeke. Pa is a good man, too. You just could never see it in him.” He saw Zeke’s eyes hardening again, but he was determined that Zeke make some kind of amends with his father before leaving. “Look at it this way, brother. Your kids are all
half-breeds, too—maybe a little less Indian than you, but they still have Indian blood in them. How will you feel if one or more of them someday turns and blames you for all their misfortunes, just because you fathered them? Wouldn’t that hurt a hell of a lot?”

He saw a flicker of understanding in Zeke’s eyes. “I know what you’re saying, Danny. But I have kept my children in a place where it’s easiest for them to live.”

“You kept them there partly because you love it there yourself. Pa loved it here. That’s the only difference.”

Zeke sighed. “I’m going to pack my gear.” He turned away, and Lance started to speak up again. But then someone yelled from the bushes.

“Zeke! Zeke Monroe! Halt where you are, half-breed!”

Zeke stopped in his tracks, and both men turned to look toward the voice. Neither man had a gun in his hand, but Zeke wore his knife at his waist. A man emerged from the underbrush, and Zeke’s heart froze. The man had not changed much. There was a resemblance to Ellen. Ellen! This was her brother! It all happened quickly then. The man came toward Zeke, holding a shotgun on him.

“I’m gonna blow your guts out, you goddamned, murderin’ half-breed!” the man swore. “You forced yourself on my sister and run off with her. Then you killed her, you damned savage—tried to put the blame on those poor men you murdered.”

“They murdered Ellen, not I,” Zeke returned. “I loved Ellen!”

“You lyin’ half-breed scum!” He raised his rifle. For the first time in his life, Zeke Monroe hesitated. He could easily kill the man by landing his knife in him before he could even pull the trigger. But the fact that he was Ellen’s brother caught in Zeke’s heart and he could
not make his hand move for his weapon. Suddenly Hugh Monroe was shouting at the man from the porch, running down the steps and wielding his own rifle.

“Terrence Huett, you son of a bitch, put that shotgun down!” the elder Monroe shouted, a new spring to his step. His defense of his son suddenly put added life in the old man’s veins. “You pull that trigger and I’ll shoot you myself.”

The moment of anger and hatred was too intense for any of them to think rationally. Terrence Huett turned at Hugh Monroe’s shouting, and in his own bitterness he fired. He would not let Hugh Monroe stop him from killing the half-breed who had ruined his sister’s life. Zeke stared in shock as a hole exploded in red blood in the middle of his father’s chest. Hugh Monroe took two more steps, then slumped to the ground.

“Pa!” Lance gasped, running toward the man.

Zeke’s eyes widened, and he stood in torn confusion. The very man he hated the most had come to his defense, as any father would do, and in that moment he realized he loved the old man after all. Ellen’s brother turned his eyes back to Zeke, as he fumbled with a jammed gun. It was the only time in his life that Zeke suffered from indecision in a moment when quick action would have normally been his response. But this man was a part of Ellen. He could not bring himself to make a move toward the man right away. Everything happened in only seconds. He glanced back at his father, lying on the ground covered with blood. His father! His last words to the man had been cruel and hateful, and now the man was dying because he had come to Zeke’s defense. Zeke gripped his knife as Ellen’s brother raised his shotgun again, but then another shot rang out, and the man’s body flew backward, his neck and face instantly shattered and bloody.

Zeke whirled to see Lance standing near his father
holding his father’s smoking gun, tears on his face. There was a long moment of absolute silence until Zeke managed to make his legs move toward his father and brother. He came close to Lance.

“I couldn’t … let you kill him,” Lance said in a choked voice. “After what happened … before … Tennessee would never have let you leave this time, Zeke. They’d bring it all up again—hang you. It had to be … somebody else. I … I won’t even tell the authorities … you were here.”

Zeke’s heart swelled with love for this brother he hardly knew. “I … don’t know what to say, Lance.”

“It was easy,” the man replied, his body jerking in a sob. “He killed my pa.”

The terrible pain of regret stabbed at Zeke’s heart, and his own eyes filled with tears. He turned away and knelt down beside his father, whose eyes were open and still had a flicker of life in them. The old man was covered with blood, and his eyes looked at Zeke pleadingly. Zeke shuddered with overwhelming memories and almost unbearable regret. He bent closer, bringing his lips close to the old man’s ear.

“I love you, Father,” he groaned. “Damn you! You … wanted to hear it. You’re hearing it. I love you.” He broke into sobbing and cradled the old man in his arms. For a brief moment Hugh Monroe reached up and patted his wayward son on the shoulder. Then his hand slid down and the life went out of him.

Danny sat in a chair and watched while Zeke and Lance pounded in the cross at the head of their father’s grave. Then Zeke came over and knelt in front of Danny, reaching up and tucking the blanket around the man’s neck.

“You want to go back inside?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Danny replied, his blue eyes sunken and
tired. “Life sure takes strange turns, doesn’t it, Zeke?”

Zeke nodded and sighed. “I have to go, Danny. I’ve sent word to Emily. You should be safe here. I’ve got to get back to Abbie.”

“I understand.” He reached out from under the blanket and they grasped hands. “Thank you, Zeke. What else can I say? I’ll be indebted to you forever. If you hadn’t come along, I probably would have been buried alive with those other bodies. It’s over for you now, isn’t it? You finally got your past out in the open and really looked at it?”

Zeke squeezed his hand. “That’s true. A man can keep so much hatred and emotion buried that he chokes on it unless he throws it up. I was choking to death. All of a sudden I feel … I don’t know … free for the first time, I guess. Free of the past. Free of my love for Ellen. It’s like I can finally let go of her. Now all I want is to get back to my Abbie.”

Danny grinned. “What man wouldn’t want to get back to Abbie? You’re a lucky man, Zeke.”

Zeke smiled. “You didn’t do so bad yourself. A little spoiled and delicate, but she’s coming along.”

Danny chuckled. “I intend to get well as fast as I can. And then we’re both coming back out West. Since I’ve been back here, I’ve discovered I, too, have a past to leave behind. I learned to love the West, Zeke. I’m coming back out.”

“Good.” Zeke rose and looked at Lance. “Maybe I’ll be seeing you out there also sometime, little brother.”

Lance looked at his father’s grave, then scanned the old, battered farm. He met Zeke’s eyes. “I just might come out,” he replied. “There’s nothing left for me here now. Maybe I’ll come out and help you run the ranch. I don’t know.”

“Well, I’ve got one good man. But I can always use
another—especially when he’s my brother.”

They shook hands. “Take good care of that woman of yours,” Lance told him. “She’s a fine lady. And that’s a fine brood of kids she mothered.”

Zeke nodded, his hunger for Abbie suddenly intensified to near painful proportions. Never had he missed her more! Never had he loved her more! Home. How good it sounded to be going home. “Take good care of Danny,” he told Lance.

“You know I will.”

Zeke glanced at Danny once more, love in his eyes. “Be seeing you, brother.” He walked to his mount and eased onto its back with graceful quickness. “As the Cheyenne would say, my brothers,
nohetto
. That is all. It’s over.” He looked from one to the other, then at his father’s grave and around the old farm. He looked at his brothers again. “
Maheo
be with you.” He whirled his horse and kicked with his heels.
“Hai! Hai!”
he shouted, getting the mount into a fast gallop. He left the old farm, and he was leaving Tennessee a free man at last. He headed West—to Colorado, to his woman.

Twenty-Two

Anna glanced up from her desk when Winston Garvey walked inside her office, irritated at the way he sometimes barged in uninvited, as though he still owned her business. “How did you get in?” she asked. “We aren’t open.”

The man closed the door and heaved himself over to a chair, slumping into it and smiling at her. “You forget that I am an important man, my dear. People see my face at the door—they let me in.”

She scowled. “I will have to talk to Benny about that. He shouldn’t let anyone in without my approval.”

“Tut, tut, dear Anna. You have certainly become haughty and snobbish of late. Ever since you thought you got the better of me with your news about my half-breed son, you have walked around with your nose in the air.” He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped sweat from his brow. “But we both know the real Anna, don’t we?” he added. “Her nose belongs in the mud. She’s nothing more than a common slut who happened to fall into the good fortune of meeting a senator in Washington who gave her a start in her illustrious career.”

Anna leaned back in her chair, picking up a thin cigar she had been smoking. She puffed it once, then put it out. “What the hell do you want, Senator? I’m trying to balance some figures here. I don’t have time for this.”

He raised his eyebrows. “So much money that you have trouble keeping up with it?”

She smiled. “My girls and I come high—let alone the gambling table earnings. But you know all that. Did you come for some kind of cut perhaps? I paid you off a long time ago.”

“Oh, no, dear. I only came to gloat.”

“Over what, pray tell?”

He shifted in his chair. “Well, I just wanted to see the look on your face when I tell you I will soon have Zeke Monroe where I want him.”

She watched him cautiously, deciding that this time she would show no emotion. “A man like you could never get the better of a man like Zeke.”

“Oh, but I already have. Your, uh, ex-lover has gone off to the Civil War, you see. And while he has been gone, some of my men paid his ranch a little visit. Now I have his woman. Don’t you think a man like Zeke will come for his woman?”

Anna paled slightly, feeling a sudden pity for Abigail Monroe, but she kept her composure. “Of course he will.” She feigned unconcern. “What’s that to me? It’s your problem, not mine.”

“Of course it is. But, well, since this whole thing is kind of a secret between me and Handy and Buel, and since you were so sure the last time we talked that I could never get the upper hand on Zeke Monroe, I just thought I’d come and tell you about my success.”

She snickered. “You brag too soon, my dear senator. Has the man come for her yet?”

“He will come. I have a man waiting down at Bent’s
Fort. He’ll know when Monroe has returned, and he will come to tell me. We’ll be ready for him.”

She laughed harder. “You truly amuse me, Senator. You’d better hire yourself an army, because that is what it will take to stop Zeke Monroe.”

“I have plenty of men. You realize, of course, the position you are in. Monroe will think you ratted to me. He’ll probably come for your hide before he comes for mine. And if he doesn’t kill you, I will—just as soon as I get my information from the man. I have played along with you long enough, my dear Anna. Once Zeke is dead, you will be the only one left who knows anything, other than the people who took the boy, of course. But they will die, too.”

She refused to act frightened, knowing he would only take pleasure in it. “I don’t understand you anymore,” she spoke up, her smile fading to a sneer. “I always thought you were an intelligent man. But kidnapping that woman is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done. You should have let it all lie sleeping, you fat fool! What if that woman, or Zeke himself, does tell you where the boy is? What would it accomplish to kill the boy? How many people must you kill to hide the filthy life you lead behind closed doors, Senator? You might as well kill half the people you do business with.”

His face darkened. “That is not the point, my dear. A lot of people know I am ruthless and underhanded. That doesn’t bother me. It has made me rich. What bothers me is that I have a half-breed son walking around someplace. Perhaps those who know would let it lie. But that isn’t enough for me. The fact that the boy exists at all is utter horror for me. I cannot allow it. I want that boy dead. D-E-A-D. Dead! I have only one son—my Charles. I would do anything, including risking my own life, to stamp out that half-breed boy
and make damned sure my own son never finds out about him.”

She just stared at him, a look of shock on her face. “You’re crazy!” she said quietly. “You’re flat out crazy. It’s really that important to you?”

“It is.”

She shook her head. “You could have just let it go, and no one would ever have known.”

His eyes turned to slits of hatred. “I would know!” he growled. “I can’t bear the thought of being the father to half-breed scum.”

Silence hung in the air for a moment as Anna rose, moving around to sit on the edge of her desk. “What have you done with Mrs. Monroe?” she asked cautiously.

The man snickered. “Now wouldn’t you just love to know that?” He leaned back again and put his arms behind his head. “Well, my dear, I can’t tell you that, except that she is
not
at my estate. I will say one thing for her, though. She’s one stubborn woman. My original plan was to get my answer out of her by taking her from her children and making her my prisoner. I thought that beatings and starvation and separation from those little brats of hers would make her talk. Then I would kill her and go find the boy and his family and get rid of them also. Then I would stage another raid on the Monroe ranch and get rid of the rest of them—make it look like an Indian attack. That would be easy for the public to believe, considering all the raiding that is taking place.”

“But she messed up your plans when she wouldn’t talk,” Anna added for him, cautiously trying to find out all that she could.

His face darkened again. “The damned woman is smarter and stronger than I figured.”

“I could have told you that.”

“But there’s no hurry. As long as she won’t tell me anything, I’ll keep her alive and wait for her husband to come for her. And if he wants her back, he’ll have to tell me what I want to know. I merely have to keep the woman alive. If I kill her, Zeke Monroe will never talk.”

“He’ll never talk either way. Why should he? If he talks to get her back, you’ll still have him killed.”

He shook his head. “I will very quietly have the ‘evidence’—the boy and his family—disposed of. They will simply disappear. That isn’t hard to accomplish in this Godforsaken country. Then let Monroe yell all he wants. There will be no evidence. And who will believe him: the word of a stinking half-breed against a prominent businessman like myself? I suppose even with the boy alive, Monroe would have a hell of a time convincing the public he is mine, but there is always the chance. Once he’s dead, the threat is gone. And Zeke Monroe will have nothing to hold over me. No good citizen in his right mind would believe such a story.”

Anna folded her arms. “It all sounds very smooth, Senator,” she told the man. “And when Zeke gets back from the war, just how is he supposed to know where to go to look for his wife?”

“Oh, he’ll know once he thinks about it for a while. He’ll figure it out.”

She shrugged. “And what if he never comes? I hear the war back east is a damned bloody one. It has even affected us here. Maybe he’s been killed.”

Garvey chuckled. “So be it. The longer he is away, the more his wife will wear down until she finally gives up. She will tell me sooner or later. She can’t go on forever in her condition.”

Anna’s heart raced. “What condition? What have you done with her?”

Garvey smiled. “I always got a certain pleasure out
of hitting a woman,” he told her. “Pain and starvation can work wonders in changing someone’s mind.” He rose from his chair. “But in her case, that wasn’t enough. She was too proud. You’ve seen the sort. So Buel and Handy and I decided to break her pride.”

The horror of what he was saying made her her feel ill. “You pig! You slimy, fat, stinking pig!” she hissed. “Abigail Monroe is a good woman—a woman of virtue and … and …”

“And everything you are not, I dare say,” the man sneered. She started to slap him, but he grabbed her wrist. “It is far too late for you to be thinking about being the kind of woman Abigail Monroe is, my worthless whore! Or should I say the kind of woman she
was?
”

Anna jerked her wrist away and moved back, feeling nauseous at his closeness and wondering how she had ever allowed herself to put up with him all these years. “You misjudged one thing,” she told him.

“And what, pray tell, is that?” he asked pompously.

Her eyes glittered with hatred. “You figure Zeke Monroe to be like most other men—a person you can bully with your money and your power, a person beneath your false dignity, someone of the lower class to be used and abused and threatened and bought off. Your power has gone to your head, Winston Garvey, so that you think you are invincible, invulnerable, your estate impregnable. But one day you will awake to find Zeke Monroe’s knife at your throat. Your pompous love for yourself has caused you to do something you never should have done. You have dug your grave, Winston Garvey! You can’t threaten or buy off a man like Zeke. You have met your match this time.”

The man merely chuckled and walked to the door. “Think what you wish, my dear. I only came to tell you because I have a feeling the man will pay you a visit before
he comes to me. I wanted you to be ready for him. You may tell him whatever you wish. Lead him right to my door. I’ll be waiting with open arms. In fact, why don’t you come along with him? I could take care of everything at once.” He snickered at the hatred on her face. “I just wish he would hurry. With my wife and son gone in the East, this would be the ideal time to tie up all these loose ends.”

“And what makes you think I won’t go to the authorities myself?” she returned.

“Be my guest. Send them out to my place. They won’t find anything. How far can the word of a slut like you go? This is Denver, dear. We’re even considering laws against prostitution. Cooperate, dear Anna, and I just might spare your life. That’s your only hope. Fight me, betray me, and your body will be lying at the foot of the loneliest mountain in the Rockies—or I can easily arrange to have you put in prison for the rest of your life. I’m sure I can think of any number of matters that would put you behind bars. No, Anna dear. You aren’t brave enough or strong enough to go to the authorities. I’d break you in half, and you’d be the common homeless slut I picked up off the streets all those years ago in Washington. You don’t realize it, but even today you are still dependent on the old senator. You’ll never really get away from me, you know. I’ve only played along with you this long because you didn’t know the whereabouts or identity of the half-breed boy. As soon as I get that information, you will be back under my thumb, my pet, to do with as I please.” He stepped closer and suddenly grabbed the bodice of her dress, ripping it open and exposing her breasts. “This is what you are and what you always will be, Anna Gale! It’s a little late to be thinking of doing good deeds!” He looked down at her breasts, then spit on them. “Don’t ever, ever try to threaten me again!” he hissed.

He turned and left. Anna stared at the closed door, her body jerking in silent, unwanted sobs. But she did not cry for herself. She wept for Abbie Monroe. She hoped Zeke would come soon. Zeke was one man Winston Garvey could not threaten or control. She pulled her dress back over her breasts and bent over, wishing she was brave enough to kill Winston Garvey herself.

Zeke crested the hill and looked down at the cabin. He felt as ecstatic as a young lover anticipating making love to the woman of his dreams for the first time, as excited as a little boy planning a wonderful surprise. He breathed deeply of the air that he loved and patted his horse’s warm, moist neck. He had ridden the animal harder than he would ever normally run a horse. But he had to take the risk. He had to get back here. Each mile had brought a little more life to his lonely soul, a little more urgency to the gait of his horse, a little more happiness to his heart.

But it was only a few seconds before that happiness and excitement began to fade, and he felt an odd pain in his stomach. There were no sounds of children laughing and playing, no horses running in the corrals or out in the pasture. The ranch looked lifeless and empty. He frowned, heading his mount down the hill, his dread mounting as the cabin came closer. He stopped and looked around cautiously, pulling his rifle from its casing.

“Abbie!” he called out. There was only the sound of a soft wind. “Dooley! Wolf’s Blood!”

Still no reply. He trotted the horse around to the front of the cabin and dismounted, his rifle ready as he walked up the steps to the front door. The door was padlocked with the lock they always used when they would be gone. He turned to walk back and get his key from his parfleche. It was then that he noticed the
strange markings all over the front of the house. He walked closer, running his finger over one of them.

“Bullets!” he muttered. He inspected a few more, finding some bullets embedded in the thick logs. “Jesus!” He ran to his parfleche and rummaged for the key, hurrying back and unlocking the padlock and charging into the house. “Abbie?” he shouted. He stared around the main room. It looked as though no one had occupied it for a while. Dust was settled on the table and on the fireplace mantle. Abbie would never let dust collect. He walked to the fireplace and touched the black embers in the hearth. They were cold. Abbie was perpetually cooking. The coals were always warm.

He forced back the thoughts of horror that wanted to come to his mind. He climbed up quickly to the loft, but there were no children there, and some of their quilts were gone. Then he walked hesitantly into the bedroom where he and Abbie slept. The bed of robes was there, neatly made. Everything was in place. He tried to understand how the outside of the cabin could be so riddled with bullets, yet nothing inside seemed wrongly disturbed. If someone had attacked the cabin, there would have been a struggle once they got inside. There should be blood and broken articles.