Sweet Prairie Passion (Savage Destiny) Page 17

  “We’ll cross the river today,” he told Kelsoe, his voice losing a little of its icy ring. “It’s high, so we won’t have an easy time of it—may not get much more than that done today. In about ten days we’ll come upon Independence Rock, maybe fifteen days, depends on how things go. The country gets mighty hilly from here on, and it’s pretty rough going between the north fork of the Platte and Independence Rock—dry country, lots of alkali. The animals will have to be watched so they don’t poison themselves on the water. But we won’t hit that country till we cross the north fork. We’d best get moving.” He backed up his horse. “Obliged for your confidence,” he added.

  “There was twice as many for as against,” Kelsoe told him.

  Zeke nodded again. “I have a good idea who voted against,” he replied, “but I’ll do my job, which means everybody gets treated and protected and guided the same—hard feelings or not.”

  “You’re a fair man, Zeke. And we’re … uh … we’re sorry about your wife and all that. Not everybody is that way, you know.”

  Zeke did not reply. He turned his horse, his eyes catching Abbie’s against his will. He stared at her a minute, then rode closer.

  “You understand a few things a little better now?” he asked her. She hung her head and he rode closer, so that his leg was right in front of her, then he talked quietly. “Stay close to your wagon, Abigail, at all times, you hear? Farther ahead there are more trees and rocks, better cover for anybody with a mind to follow us, if you know what I mean.”

  It gladdened her heart that he was still watching out for her. She raised her eyes to meet his, trying to use them to express silently how sorry she was about his wife. “I’ll stay close,” she replied.

  Their gaze held a moment, saying everything that needed saying; then he nudged his horse and rode on ahead. She watched him, her heart bursting with love and desire.

  “Let’s roll!” he shouted, kicking his horse into a faster pace.

  Nine

  Most of the day was spent just crossing the Platte. If not for the gravity of the situation, Abbie would have laughed at all the cursing and grumbling that took place. Sometimes she did snicker to herself, but she had to feel sorry for the animals, who struggled and strained to drag the wagons through the muddy river bottom. The clearance of the wagon beds was about two and a half feet, but the river was at least three and a half feet deep, which wouldn’t have been so bad if there hadn’t been that sucking mud beneath the water.

  Zeke seemed to be everywhere at once and spent more time in the water than out of it, shouting orders, helping push, carrying people across on his horse. He was soaked to the skin; but Abbie was almost glad for the problems, because they occupied Zeke’s mind that day, as he needed it to be.

  They took the wagons across one by one, starting with the Haneses’. First, Zeke carried the three Hanes children across the river on his horse, the animal half-swimming but remaining sure-footed. Abbie supposed Zeke must be a fine horse breeder, considering the quality of the mount he rode. Then he signaled Bradley Hanes to start his wagon. It was pulled by Haneses’ four oxen plus two of Jason’s, as Zeke had ordered. But in spite of all six animals, and Hanes, soaking wet in front of them, tugging, shouting, and cussing, the wagon still became mired in the mud, at which point the stubborn oxen halted in their tracks, refusing to go any further. Hanes began sinking into the mud himself, and the water began to creep up to his shoulders. The wagon shifted, and Harriet Hanes screamed. Zeke warned their children to stay put on the other side; then he rode the big Appaloosa back into the river up to the Hanes wagon.

  “Get on my horse behind me!” he ordered Mrs. Hanes. “The wagon might go over!”

  “No, I can’t!” she screamed. “I’ll drown! I can’t swim! I’m deathly afraid of water!”

  “You don’t need to know how to swim, and you don’t need to be afraid!” Zeke shouted. “Just hang on to me. My horse won’t fail us!”

  Three and a half feet of water hadn’t sounded like so much to Mrs. Hanes, but when she saw her husband sinking into the mud, with the water rushing fast around him, the river suddenly seemed a hundred feet deep. She stared at the water, frozen, until Zeke reached up and yanked her off the wagon. She screamed and grabbed him around the neck, burying her face against his shoulder and refusing to even look. Her position made it difficult for him to maneuver his horse, and everyone watched, in fear for the both of them. It was a scene they would later laugh about: Mrs. Hanes screaming and clinging to Zeke so tightly she surely was choking him, while Zeke tried to guide the horse across. But they did finally reach the other side, where Zeke had to pry the woman’s arms away.

  “Oh, dear God!” she exclaimed. “Oh, thank you, Zeke! I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid of water!” She slid down from the horse and ran to her children, hugging them as though they’d just been rescued from the hands of death. Zeke just chuckled and shook his head, turning his horse into the river again. This time, he jumped off the horse and held the animal’s reins in one hand while he smacked some of the oxen hard with the other and growled at them to get moving. Eventually, he and Hanes managed to stir the oxen into motion. The wagon lurched, then pulled free, and Hanes took it across.

  Again Zeke returned to the river, this time to help the schoolteacher get across. The Brown’s two extra oxen were hitched to the teacher’s wagon, and by using a different position than the Hanes Wagon, Zeke and Mr. Harrell got Harrell’s wagon across with little trouble.

  Then it was back into the water for Zeke. The Trent wagon was next. Zeke hoisted Jeremy up in front of him and ordered Abbie to jump on behind him from the wagon seat, which she did eagerly, loving the brief chance to be so close to him. LeeAnn announced she would ride across with Quentin Robards.

  “Suit yourself!” Zeke hollered to her above the rushing waters. He headed into the river with Jeremy and Abbie, and Abbie hung on tight, having no fear as long as she was with Zeke.

  They made it across, and Zeke lifted her down from the horse as though she were a mere feather. Without a word he mounted up again and reentered the waters to help Jason Trent with his wagon. LeeAnn and Robards were nearly across themselves, and when they reached the bank of the river they simply kept riding, deciding to use the time they had to be alone while the others were involved with the crossing.

  The next two hours were spent getting the rest of the wagons across. Kelsoe’s wagons were the biggest problem because of his extensive supplies. The preacher rode across on his own, while Connely, who grudgingly accepted Zeke’s help in getting across, was followed by the Browns. The Browns presented the only other problem that day, for Yolanda refused to ride across with Zeke, acting as though she might somehow be “infected” with some mysterious plague if she were near the “half-breed who’d killed all those men.”

  Zeke didn’t argue. He rode back across and ordered Kelsoe to saddle one of his horses and ride back with him to get Yolanda Brown, because it was too dangerous for her to cross in the tipsy wagon. Willis Brown was so absorbed in getting his cattle and horses across that he did not even realize there was any difficulty in getting his wife across. Zeke looked at Yolanda in disgust when he returned with Kelsoe; then he ordered her to get on Kelsoe’s horse and go across with the man, which she did willingly. But the minute they got to the middle, the horse stumbled, and Kelsoe and Yolanda both were plunged into the water.

  Zeke rode in fast, water flying. Quickly he scooped up Yolanda Brown with one arm. Unable to get her all the way up on the horse, in spite of her pregnant condition, he literally carried her over. She screamed and kicked the whole way, as though she were being kidnapped, calling Zeke names and yelling for him to get his hands off her.

  “That’s just what I should do!” he yelled back at her. “Let you drown! Is that what you want?”

  But the horse lost its footing just slightly, whereupon Yolanda grabbed Zeke’s arm and shut her mouth until they reached the other side of the wide and treacherous river. Zeke set her o
n her feet and ordered her to get into something dry quickly before she took sick and lost her baby. She cried and carried on that all her clothes were on the other side, so Zeke yelled back to just use someone else’s. She stood there, like a wet rat, glaring at Zeke, while Abbie stood watching, amused by the sight.

  “You wanted me to fall in!” Yolanda screamed at Zeke.

  “If you’d gone with me in the first place like I told you to do, it wouldn’t have happened!” Zeke yelled back. “Now get your clothes changed. Borrow some from Abbie for now, but get them changed.”

  “Don’t give me orders, you half-breed!”

  He rode closer to her. “Get them clothes changed, or by God I’ll strip you myself!”

  Yolanda put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “I dare you to strip me, half-breed!”

  Zeke jumped down from the horse, and her eyes widened. She started running for the Trent wagon, and everyone started laughing, even her in-laws. Willis Brown never even knew what was happening, because he was still herding his cattle across.

  As Abbie giggled and looked up at Zeke, she noticed a grin pass over his lips. She was happy to see it, and to see the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

  “See if you can find something to fit her,” he told Abbie, turning to mount up again.

  “I’m not sure I want to,” Abbie replied with another giggle. “She’s not the nicest person I ever met!”

  “Well, nice or not, she’s carrying, so get her dried off,” he replied with a wink. “I know what you mean, though.” He tipped his hat, and as water ran from it, they both laughed. Then Zeke headed back across, meeting Kelsoe on the way as the man finally made it out of the river.

  It was midafternoon by the time they got across. Everyone was wet and tired and needed to dry out clothes and bedding, so that first day they traveled only a mile from the river and made camp. Abbie tried to forget about the fact that LeeAnn and Quentin Robards were still off alone somewhere. She knew it worried her father; she had seen him constantly glance out into the distance. By now everyone knew the two were carrying on, and it shamed Jason Trent. But there was nothing he could do to stop her without suffering her sharp tongue and total refusal to speak, and those hurt him even more.

  They gathered up dead cottonwood for a large fire, around which they all gathered that night to dry out, feeling chilly in spite of the warm night. Abbie worried about Zeke, who must surely have been soaked to the bones and who had gone to scout the trail ahead after getting them across. By nightfall he still had not returned.

  Jason Trent dug out his fiddle and played some soft, pretty tunes as they all sat around the campfire talking and drinking coffee. The preacher, refusing to join them, had bedded down already, and Connely sat somewhat apart from the others; but everyone else stayed close, enjoying the heat of the fire and the pretty Tennessee hill songs Trent played on his fiddle.

  “How about a hymn?” Abbie’s father asked after finishing a song. “We all ought to be glad we got across safely today. Any of you want to sing a hymn?”

  “That’s a wonderful idea!” Mrs. Hanes replied. “We’ve done no praying or singing together or had any kind of church service since we started out.”

  They all looked at each other a moment, realizing they had a preacher along; yet they were thirsty for hymn singing and to hear the Lord’s word. Mrs. Hanes actually snickered, aware that none of them, except perhaps the Browns, even cared to hear anything Preacher Graydon might have to say.

  “How about Rock of Ages?” Trent asked. “You all know it?”

  “I expect so,” Hanes replied.

  Trent whined out the tune on his fiddle, and they all began to sing:

  “Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

  Let me hide myself in Thee.

  Let the water and the blood,

  From Thy wounded side which flowed,

  Be of sin the double cure,

  Save from wrath and make me pure.”

  It was then that Zeke stepped into the firelight, silent as a panther as always. Most didn’t see him right away; but Abbie did, and her breath left her for a moment.

  He’d put on a different pair of buckskin pants and moccasins. His shirt was buckskin also, but it was pure white. The front was beautifully beaded in a multitude of colors shaped like an eagle. It was the most beautiful piece of artwork Abbie had ever seen, if a shirt could be called artwork, and against the white shirt Zeke looked more dark and more handsome than ever. His hair was braided down his back and he was hatless, and that night he smoked a pipe instead of the little cheroots. He stood there, looking to Abbie like the grandest specimen of man ever to walk.

  “Zeke! Come join us!” Jason Trent spoke up when he spotted him. “We’re just doing a little hymn singing.”

  “We wondered if we’d see you anymore tonight,” Kelsoe put in. “You did a good job getting us across today, and we were a little worried over how wet you got.”

  “I’ve been wet before,” Zeke said quietly, moving into the circle. Yolanda Brown watched him sullenly. “I laid my skins out to dry,” he added. “These are the only other clothes I had along. I don’t generally wear this shirt except for special occasions.”

  “Well, I’d say getting across that river is a special occasion,” Kelsoe replied. “Jesus, Zeke, you look like a chief or something. That’s one hell of a grand looking shirt there.”

  Zeke seemed a little embarrassed. He smiled and sat down on a log beside Trent, while Abbie stared transfixed at the striking man in the beautiful, white-fringed buckskin shirt.

  “My Indian mother made it for me,” he told them. “That’s why I generally keep it with me but save it for special times. It’s kind of a ceremonial shirt. You folks go on with your singing. I’ll just sit here and listen.”

  “Do you know the hymn ‘Rock of Ages’?” Trent asked.

  Zeke puffed the pipe. “I know it. I know lots of hymns. Back in Tennessee—” His face clouded somewhat. “Back in Tennessee … when I was little my … uh … stepmother took me to church. Told me I needed saving more than the average person because of my Indian blood.” He puffed the pipe again. “But the people at the church … they … uh … they finally made her stop bringing me—didn’t want a half-breed sitting in their pews.”

  “That’s terrible!” Mrs. Hanes spoke up.

  Zeke shrugged. “You get used to it.”

  “Do you truly?” Abbie asked, hardly realizing she’d opened her mouth. Zeke met her eyes.

  “No,” he answered. “I guess you don’t—not really. You just pretend you do.” He looked at Trent, forcing a smile. “Well, get going on that fiddle. Let’s hear the rest of that song. You folks sing right well together.”

  Abbie’s father played the tune again, and little Mary Hanes, looking drowsy, walked over to Zeke and crawled up onto his lap, putting her arms around his neck and falling asleep right there in his arms while they sang:

  “Could my tears forever flow,

  Could my zeal no languor know,

  These for sin could not atone;

  Thou must save, and Thou alone.

  In my hand no price I bring;

  Simply to Thy cross I cling.”

  Zeke stared at the fire, his arms around little Mary, his eyes looking distant and troubled. Abbie wondered if he was remembering being a little boy who was kicked out of church or, perhaps, thinking of his dead wife and son again.

  “While I draw this fleeting breath,

  When my eyes shall close in death,

  When I rise to worlds unknown,

  And behold Thee on Thy throne.

  Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

  Let me hide myself in Thee.”

  They all sat quietly for a moment when they had finished, Zeke staring at the fire until the spell was broken by Mrs. Hanes coming to gently take Mary from him and put her to bed. Zeke looked up at her and smiled, and Trent cleared his throat.

  “You … uh … you got family then, back in Tennessee, Zeke?” he aske
d cautiously. “Brothers and sisters maybe?”

  Zeke puffed the pipe and stared at the fire again. “I do,” he replied. “Got a pa and a stepmother, but I’m not sure if either one is still alive. I have three half brothers. The oldest would be about eighteen now, the youngest eleven. He was only six when I—” He stopped and puffed the pipe, and again no one spoke for several minutes, while Trent repeated the hymn on his fiddle. Yolanda and Willis Brown got up, leaving without saying good night, to join Willis’ parents, who were already sleeping.

  “Hey, Zeke,” Kelsoe spoke up, trying to lighten up the mood. “Tell the rest of us the truth, will you?” He grinned when Zeke met his eyes. “What would you have done today, when you got down off that horse, if Yolanda Brown had stood her ground and refused to go change.”

  They all waited anxiously while Zeke puffed his pipe thoughtfully. Then he took the pipe out of his mouth and grinned.

  “I’d have stripped her naked as a plucked chicken,” he replied flatly.

  They all burst out laughing, and some laughed so hard they cried, including Abbie, who would have dearly loved to see Zeke humiliate Yolanda Brown that way.

  That broke up the tired little group, and they all returned to their wagons with lighter hearts. Abbie watched Zeke’s white shirt fade off into the darkness. She was disappointed that she’d not had a chance to speak alone with him, but she knew he’d never allow her that chance either, if he could avoid it. She climbed into the wagon, surprised to see LeeAnn already inside and in bed. The girl had apparently returned quietly, not caring to face her father or anyone else. As Abbie crawled in beside her, she noticed dirt and grass in the girl’s hair, and it pained her heart.