Sweet Prairie Passion (Savage Destiny) (41 page)

Her stomach felt fluttery at his compliment, and she blushed more, unaware he’d had such feelings for her. She smiled nervously. “Thank you, Bobby.”

“I … uh …” He sighed again. “I thought maybe, once we get to Oregon …
if
we get to Oregon … maybe I could … see you?”

She glanced at Zeke again. It would be foolish to say no to Bobby Jones. What kind of future was there for her if she didn’t at least consider someone else? Cheyenne Zeke had apparently said his last word on the subject. There was no future with him. Yet how could a boy like Bobby Jones compare to the man who had been first to make love to her?

“I guess that would be … fine,” she replied, turning away to hide the tears in her eyes. Her heart ached for Zeke. And she knew that to take another man to her bed would be to deceive him, for in her mind and heart she would be lying with Zeke. “Oregon … is still far off, Bobby. A lot could happen.”

“I know that.” He put a hand to her waist and urged her a little farther away. “I just…well…it helps a man fight better when he knows he has something to fight
for,
something he can think about in the future to stay alive for.”

She turned to face him, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Bobby, I can’t promise—”

“Hell, I know that,” he answered with a smile.
“And I’ve seen … how you look at him.” Her eyes widened in surprise, and he caught her hand. “It’s all right, Abigail. I understand. I just … just wanted you to know I care … and that if—Well, Cheyenne Zeke is wild and half Indian. It’s not likely he’ll keep you with him. I know I’m not much by comparison, but I don’t want you to be alone, Abigail. So I just want you to know that if things don’t work out, if you get to Oregon and you’re alone, I’ll stay around. I won’t go back East. I care about you and I want to be with you.”

She hung her head. “That’s very nice, Bobby. I appreciate that. I truly do. I’d be … honored to see you, if things happen like you say. But I… care very much for him, Bobby. And you must know, I’m hoping things will work out differently, although Zeke is determined they won’t.”

“He’s a wise man.”

She looked up at him, unable to deceive his goodness. “Bobby, you … you might not
want
to see me. I mean I… I kind of belong to Zeke.” He frowned a little, and then a rather sorrowful disappointment flashed through his eyes. But she saw no anger. “Do you know what I mean?” she asked boldly, her face reddening.

“It’s something I already suspected,” he replied. “Fact is, some of the others probably do, too.”

She turned away. “I don’t hide my feelings too well, I guess,” she answered. “And Zeke is so determined nobody should know. Seems kind of silly, doesn’t it? Trying so hard to hide something everybody already knows. But that Zeke, he’s stubborn and immovable as those mountains out there. And I guess nothing will
change his mind. He’s determined it could never work with another white girl, and when we get to Fort Bridger, he’s … he’s leaving the train.” Her voice broke slightly. “He’s going back … to his people on the Arkansas River, and I expect that’s the last … Ill see of him.”

She sniffed and her shoulders shook. Bobby grasped her shoulders in his hands. “Don’t cry, Abbie,” he said softly. “And don’t be ashamed. I understand. A girl so young and so lonely, she’s bound to turn to a man who’s older and strong and sure of himself. A man like him would be easy for a girl to …to love, but I expect he’d be hard to live with, Abigail.”

She nodded, wiping at her eyes and blowing her nose. Bobby turned her around.

“Abigail?”

She looked up at him.

“In case we all… die right here, I wonder if … you’d let me kiss you.”

She smiled bashfully and looked down. “Bobby, I can’t kiss somebody I don’t love, I mean …not that way.”

“Oh, I don’t mean anything disrespectful, and I don’t even mean it has to be any kind of promise. I just … want to kiss you. Sometimes
friends
kiss, Abbie. And I’m
your
friend. I just want you to know … how sorry I am about all you’ve been through. Lots of times I just wanted to hold you and tell you not to worry.”

She sniffed again and looked up into his handsome but boyish face. Their eyes held a moment, and then he hesitantly bent down, meeting her lips and kissing her sweetly. But suddenly his body jerked, his grip on
her shoulders tightened for a moment, and he pulled back a little.

“I … love you, Abbie,” he said in a strained voice. “Run! My God, run, Abbie!” He slumped to the ground, and she stood there frozen for a moment, staring down at Bobby, who had an arrow in his back. A cold shiver passed through her.

“Bobby!” she screamed. “No! No! No!” She looked up to see a black-faced, white-eyed Crow looking back at her as he moved out from behind a large boulder where he’d been hiding. He was grinning. She quickly picked up Bobby’s rifle, but the Indian just stood there, still grinning, apparently sure that the white woman would not know how to use a gun. Abbie quickly cocked and fired the rifle, and the Indian jerked backward, looking wide-eyed and stunned as blood poured from the center of his chest. Then he fell backward. Abbie looked down at Bobby again, turning him on his side.

“Bobby!” she screamed. “Bobby! Bobby!” She knew he was dead. For some reason his death hit her as hard or harder than those in her own family, for it was like seeing all hope for her future die with him. Here lay the nice boy who had quietly loved her. In him there had been a chance she could be happy without Zeke. Now everything would end for her at Fort Bridger. She screamed his name again desperately, shocked and somewhat maddened by the thought of sweet Bobby’s lips on her own at his death.

She felt a darkness swimming around her, but a bloodcurdling screech from another Crow Indian brought her back to reality. As she stood up, she saw Zeke running toward her from the wagon train. She
wondered how she and Bobby could have been so foolish as to wander so far from it, and she suddenly realized her own danger. She whirled to see that the second Indian who had screamed was running toward her, hatchet raised. She tried to fire Bobby’s rifle again, but it jammed. So she threw it down and started running, keeping her eyes on Zeke, who was headed toward her, yelling at her now to run and run fast.

“Zeke!” she screamed. “They killed Bobby! They killed Bobby!”

She ran hard, but when she got within a few feet of Zeke, a horrible pain ripped through her left shoulder, all the way through her and to just above her left breast. As she gasped and staggered, she saw Zeke pull out his side arm and start firing. Then she could hear the Indian behind her cry out. There was the sound of distant horses, their hooves thundering; of Indians hooting and hollering, and then of guns being fired from both sides. Zeke and Abbie were caught in the middle of the cross fire, and he grabbed her and pulled her down to the ground. Glancing down at her painful shoulder, she saw an arrowhead sticking out of the left side of her chest.

“Zeke! Zeke! Zeke!” she screamed, gunfire all around them. “Oh, God, help me!”

“Hang on, Abbie girl,” she heard him say lovingly as blackness began to envelop her. She felt herself being lifted and knew he was running with her in one arm, while shooting with his other hand. She hated herself for getting into such a mess and for putting Zeke in such danger. She clung to his buckskins while he dragged her back.

Soon she sensed they were inside the circle of wagons. She felt herself lying on the ground, and the horror and agony of the ugly arrow in her body overwhelmed and frightened her.

“Get it out! Get it out!” she screamed. “God, help me, Zeke! Get it out of me!”

“Calm down, Abbie!” he replied in a shaking voice. It was the first time she had ever detected fear in the man. “What in God’s name were you
doing
out there?”

“Get it out!” she screamed again. She tried to tug at it herself, but it only made the pain worse.

“Jesus Christ, Abbie, you’ve got to calm down!” Zeke was ordering her. “Come on, now, where’s my brave Abbie?”

He kept her on her right side, now pulling her wrists behind her to keep her still. He couldn’t lay her on her back or her stomach, as the arrow stuck out of both sides. All around her she could hear a volley of rifle fire, men shouting orders, Indians screaming, horses thundering around the train.

“Help me, Zeke!” she sobbed. “I’m scared! I’m scared! Get it out of me!”

He put a hand under the side of her face that rested against the ground, hollering above the gunfire for Mrs. Hanes to bring a pillow and blanket. He had not had time to get her into a wagon, but she lay almost underneath her wagon where she would be relatively safe.

“Abbie, I have to help with the fighting,” he told her, bending down close to her ear. “But I’m the only one who can take that arrow out of you. You’ve got to be brave for me and hang on until the Indians leave
again.”

“No! Take it out now! Now!”

“Damn it, Abbie, I
can’t!
I’ll help you just as soon as I can, girl. Please, please just lay still, Abbie! Still as a rock. It’s very important that you don’t move at all. If you lay still, honey, the pain won’t be as bad, and there won’t be so much bleeding.”

“I can’t! I can’t lay here with this thing in me!” she screamed hysterically.

“You’ve
got
to!”

“Oh, Zeke, help me!”

“
You’ve
got to help
me,
too, Abbie, if I’m to help you later! You’ve got to stay calm and do like I say!”

Mrs. Hanes came with the blanket and pillow, and Zeke put the pillow under Abbie’s head and covered her with the blanket. “Keep her propped this way!” he ordered. “Don’t let her move!”

“Dear God, what more can happen!” Mrs. Hanes fretted, tears in her eyes.

“Nothing more!” Zeke growled. “Soon as I get this arrow out of Abigail, I’m taking Connely to the Crow, and nobody here is going to stop me! This is
his
fault! And they’ve killed Bobby Jones! If Abigail dies, I’ll
help
the Crow torture Connely!”

“Zeke, we didn’t think it could really go this far,” Mrs. Hanes tried to explain.

“Just keep her still!” Zeke replied.

Their conversation seemed far away to Abbie and had an echolike quality. Her head swam from pain and fear. She heard more shooting and cursing, horses whinnying, children crying, Indians screaming. She breathed dust and felt her body shaking violently, uncontrollably. She knew she was in shock, knew the arrow
was still in her, and she tried hard not to think about that, but it was impossible. Then she sensed someone at her side.

“Drink this, Miss Abbie,” came Olin’s distant voice. “It tastes bad, but you’d best drink plenty of it and get numbed up now so Zeke can take that arrow out just as soon as this is over.”

Someone raised her head, and she coughed and choked on the whiskey. She swallowed as much as she could, her insides in flames, and then things quickly began to swim and fade before her eyes. She was still aware of the pain, only it had become more of a dull throb that burned into her with every heartbeat. She wondered if she was dying and she called for Zeke, thinking she was screaming when she was actually barely audible.

Then it seemed to be quieter again. She could smell smoke, and she felt herself being lifted.

“Won’t be much left of Connely’s wagon,” she heard someone say.

“And nothing left of Connely himself when that Cherokee finishes with him,” came the reply from the man who lifted her.

“Zeke?” she whispered.

There were more voices, and she knew she was screaming as someone laid her down again, but at least now she lay on something soft and cool.

“Abbie? Can you hear me, Abbie girl?” Zeke asked. “Don’t you go and die on me, Abbie!” Someone kissed her cheek. “Hold her arm up a little, Olin,” the voice continued. “I’ve got to cut off this dress. There’s no other way to get it off.”

“How are you fixin’ to get that arrow out?” came a
man’s voice in reply.

“I’ll have to break it first, and that won’t help her pain any. But with a head and a tail on it, I can’t do it any other way. I just hope the arrowhead wasn’t poisonous.”

“Zeke!” she sobbed, coming around a little.

“I’m right here, Abigail. You lay still and be a good girl for me, and I’ll have this damned thing out of you in no time.”

“It … hurts! It hurts!” she moaned.

“I damned well know it hurts, honey,” he answered. “I’ve felt it before myself.”

She was vaguely aware of her dress being stripped off to her waist, but she didn’t care. She just wanted the arrow out of her chest and the pain diminished. She felt a gentle hand on her back, and then it moved around to her chest and breast. Someone else was holding her left arm up and stroking her hair while her head rested on a pillow.

“I don’t think any vital organs are damaged,” she heard Zeke say. “But she’s going to be one sick and sore little girl. The dangerous part could be infection.” She felt the arrow move a little, and in agony, she screamed.

“Don’t touch it! Don’t touch it!” she shrieked, terrified.

“Abbie honey, I’ve got to get it out,” came Zeke’s voice. “Now a while ago you were screaming for me to get it out of you. I can’t do that without touching it, Abbie girl. I’m damned sorry, but I’ve got to hurt you before I can help you.”

She just lay there, crying, and his heart ached for her.

“This goddamned thing is made of buffalo bone,” she heard him say. “There’s no way I can break it, and it would be too painful to have her lay here while we saw it.”

“How about a hatchet?” she heard Olin reply. “That would be quick. Brace somethin’ underneath it and give it one chop. That wouldn’t even move the shaft much.”

Zeke sighed. “Damn!”

“Calm down, Zeke,” Olin replied. “She needs you. Nobody else here can take that arrow out—except maybe me. You want me to do it?”

Abbie heard an odd, choking sound. She sensed it was Zeke crying, but she was too lost in her own pain to be sure.

“I’ll do it,” came his strained reply. “Go get the hatchet.”

“She’ll be all right, Zeke.”

“The kid’s been through hell!” she heard Zeke groan in reply, “It’s not fair!”