Savage Horizons

by Rosanne Bittner

  “You’d be wasting a good man if you hang the lad,” one of them spoke up. “It was a fair fight, sergeant. Wiggins started it. He’s been after Tom and the boy for years, and he had it in mind to kill the both of them if he could. Caleb Sax just happened to be the better man, that’s all. We don’t want the boy to hang. These are bad times, and we need manpower to defend the fort. Caleb will fight with us if need be.”

  The soldier studied Caleb haughtily, and Caleb stood proud and silent, his broad chest heaving with tired breaths, his eyes void of any regret for killing Wiggins.

  “All right, Caleb Sax,” the soldier growled. “I’ll let it go. But you’d best remember that things are getting damned hot with the British and the Indians out here. This fort has been shored up for an attack, and anyone with dark skin and long black hair who dresses in buckskins had better be wary. You decide where your loyalties lie, boy, and decide quickly. If I catch you starting any more fights or suspect that you’re siding with your red brothers, I’ll hang you from the nearest tree. Understood?”

  Caleb glared back and half grinned. “My father, Tom Sax, is white. My eyes are blue. I owe much to Tom Sax. My loyalties lie here. I am a man without a people, but for now I am Tom Sax’s son. If fighting to defend him means fighting against the British and the Indians, then I will do so.” He shoved his knife into its sheath. “I will keep the knife. It is a gift from my white father.”

  The sergeant backed away. “I’ll be watching you, Indian!”

  “If you wish to look upon me as Indian, then call me by my Indian name,” Caleb sneered. “It is Blue Hawk.”

  The soldier shoved his gun back in its case. “To me it’s just Indian,” the man replied. “And you’d best keep yourself out of trouble. We may have some friendly Miami around here, but you’re no Miami, I can see that. I don’t trust you.” The man whirled and walked off.

  “Tom,” one of the men from the crowd said, “you’d best realize how touchy things are right now. You’re a good man, and we agree Caleb’s been a decent boy. But there’s a wildness in him that all of us can see, a streak of Indian that can’t be tamed. Any kid who can wield a knife like that at sixteen is headed for trouble. You keep him in line, or we’ll have to forget our feelings for you and deal with him like any other Indian.”

  “You’ll go through me first,” Tom grumbled. He grabbed Caleb’s arm and headed for their cabin to take care of the cut on the boy’s face. Caleb just grinned, caring not at all about the bleeding wound, but basking in his victory.

  Chapter

  Eight

  CALEB swung the ax hard, and it rang in the crisp morning air. It was a cool morning for July, a beautiful time that would have been prettier if he knew he could go inside the cabin to a breakfast made by Cora and Sarah. He missed them terribly, and now with Tom gone with Bo for a few days to hunt for badly needed meat, he was alone.

  Despite all that had happened, life had to go on. If they were to make it through another winter at the fort, they would need a new supply of dried meat. Other settlers who had remained planted and would harvest their fields of vegetables, and the corn was already getting high. As always, plenty of wood was needed to get through a cold winter of heating and cooking, and Caleb decided to take advantage of the cool morning to split some of the big logs they had already cut and hauled to the cabin.

  To Caleb’s relief, the message had come that Sarah had arrived safely in Saint Louis, and she had sent her own letter telling of all the new sights, the fine school she would attend and the beautiful home Uncle Terrence owned. Caleb was glad there were enough diversions in Saint Louis to keep Sarah’s mind occupied and help her get over her sorrow and fear. Tom seemed more like himself after getting the letter, although he made a grumbling remark about how his brother was good at impressing people with the “wonders of his wealth.”

  “I’m sure Sarah will want for nothing,” he had commented.

  “She is not the kind of girl who would care about those things,” Caleb had answered.

  Tom had smiled and nodded. “True.”

  Tom was eating better and drinking less, and Caleb was glad Bo had convinced him to go hunting for a few days. Caleb was sure that getting back to the wilds would be good for the man, and he had agreed to stay behind and get some chores done that had been badly neglected after Cora’s death, for neither of them had cared.

  Caleb raised the ax again, feeling suddenly that he was being watched. He hesitated, the ax in mid-air, his blood tingling. His dark eyes took in the surroundings and saw a woman standing at the fence several yards away. Even from the distance, Caleb recognized Emily Stoner. She wore her customary black dress with long sleeves and a high neck, even in the summer, and a bonnet covered most of her hair and shaded her face.

  Caleb whacked the ax into a piece of wood so it stuck fast. At first he just stood watching her, unsure why she was there, wondering where her father was. He began slowly walking toward her then, his dark skin sweaty and glistening in the morning sun. He wore only his buckskin leggings, thinking nothing of his bare chest, unaware that to Emily Stoner he was nearly naked, a fascinating male creature that ate at the curiosity she was forced to keep buried.

  To Emily, Caleb Sax was the summation of everything her father would never let her have. Somehow she was sure that if she could talk to Caleb, see him, know him, she would achieve the ultimate rebellion against her father, who always forbade her to speak to or even look at men. But at nineteen she had reached an age where daring and strange desires overwhelmed her fear of going against her father’s wishes.

  She had sneaked behind her father’s back and had easily found a few men at the fort who did not mind secretly satisfying her curiosity. It was not easy fooling her father, but the excitement of it thrilled her. She hated him desperately for all the beatings, the solitude, the loneliness she had experienced, the denial of a normal life that left her almost crazed. She wanted nothing more than to defy her father to the fullest extent possible, and Caleb represented that ultimate denial, the dark Indian boy her father had declared evil and full of sin.

  Caleb was innocent of women. She sensed it, and it only made her hunger for him. And he was innocent also of her own indiscretions. Surely he thought her pure and good. She watched the graceful gait of his walk as he approached, felt stirred by his powerful muscles, flat stomach, and his handsome face, even with the scar on his cheek. Now that he had actually killed a grown man in a knife fight, her curiosity knew no bounds. The thought of Caleb’s wildness, his skill and bravery, only made him more fascinating.

  Caleb stood close then, studying her pale blue eyes beneath the wide brim of the bonnet. “Why do you watch me?” he asked.

  She swallowed, twisting a handkerchief in her fingers. “I…” She looked around, as though afraid to be seen. “Can we go inside your cabin?”

  Caleb frowned. “If someone sees you go into my cabin, it would be trouble for you. I am alone here, and I am Indian. The others do not all trust me.”

  Her eyes suddenly teared. “Please? I just want to talk to you, just for a little while.”

  Caleb carefully studied the surrounding woods. “Where is your father?”

  “He’s very sick. He gave me permission to go and get some supplies. I never get to go out alone and I … I just want to meet someone, talk to someone. I can’t stay long.”

  Caleb went against his better instincts, for he had always felt sorry for her, remembering her lonely face in the window so long ago. “Come,” he told her. He turned and walked back to the cabin, and Emily hurried behind him, quickly darting inside, where she removed her bonnet and whirled around, laughing a strange, almost insane laugh.

  Caleb watched in surprise. He had never pictured this girl smiling, let alone whirling and laughing. She was too pale, he thought, too thin and unusually tall, but pretty in her own way. Pleasant disturbances moved through him at the thought that the mysterious Emily Stoner was in his cabin and they were alone. He’d never been alone
with a girl before, not a strange one like Emily.

  She stopped whirling and faced him. “You don’t know how good it feels to be free, even for one day,” she said excitedly. “Here I am, alone in a cabin with an Indian man, one who has killed a skilled trapper, someone who’s forbidden in my father’s eyes.” Her eyes moved over him in a way that made Caleb feel warm and alive. “Thank you, Caleb, for letting me come inside.”

  She stepped closer and he stepped back. “It is not good that you are here.”

  “I don’t care. Oh, Caleb, ever since that day my father beat you I’ve thought about you, wanted to tell you how sorry I am for what he did, wondered about you. But Father so seldom lets me leave the house that I never had the chance to talk to you. Even when I did go out it was always with Father.” She breathed deeply and whirled around again. “Oh, how I’d love to run away!” She walked closer again. “Take me away, Caleb.”

  He wanted to move back again, but something held him fast. “I cannot. They would hunt for us. Besides, it is too dangerous now. Why did you choose me?”

  She reached out hesitantly, then touched her fingers to the muscles of his chest, lightly tracing them over his skin. “You’re so beautiful, Caleb.” His blood suddenly felt like it was on fire. “You’re the most beautiful man at Fort Dearborn.” The use of the word man made his blood burn even hotter, and she touched one of his nipples, a wild look in her eyes. “I … don’t know anything about men,” she lied. “I’ve never seen a man’s bare chest before.” She moved a hand to her own small breasts. “Why do you suppose I have these, and you don’t?”

  She looked up at him and he wondered if she could hear his heart pounding. He knew she was older than he, but it seemed she genuinely did not know about the differences between men and women. He had known since he was a small boy sharing a lodge with Black Antelope and Two Stars. But until now he had not realized how pleasant those differences could be. Caleb swallowed, feeling light-headed and unable to reason clearly, not stopping to wonder how one supposedly so sheltered, so innocent of male and female anatomy could be so bold.

  “A woman has breasts to feed her babies,” he answered.

  She frowned. “How does she get the babies?”

  He just stared at her. “You don’t know?”

  Her eyes widened like a curious little girl. Her hand moved down. “Are you different here?” She touched him between the legs and he jumped back.

  “Go away!”

  She put a hand to her mouth. “Why?”

  “Go away. You should not touch me that way. It is bad … cruel.”

  Her eyes teared. “Cruel? Why?”

  “Get out! You should not have come here!”

  Her eyes teared and she turned and ran out. Caleb wondered if the fire would ever leave his skin, or the ache she had brought to his limbs would subside. He had never mated, never even thought much about it until now. Suddenly all such feelings and needs had been rudely and painfully awakened. He stumbled to the doorway to see Emily Stoner disappearing into the woods, and he felt bad that he had made the strange girl cry.

  The night was a restless one for Caleb, his young man’s passions awakened to new heights. He lay awake, fantasizing about Emily Stoner, wondering at her strangely twisted mind, hating her father. He would never forget the beating with the wide leather belt, and he wondered what the girl had been through. It made him feel sorry for her, made him want to protect her, and more than anything, he wanted to know about women, what it was like to lie naked next to one.

  But to be with someone like Emily would surely be forbidden and wrong. The few times he had considered some day taking a wife, he had always pictured an Indian woman. Yet half of him was white. Why should a white woman be forbidden to him? Caleb instinctively knew it would never be allowed. He told himself to forget about Emily’s strange visit, forget about the pleasant urgings she had stirred in him, forget Emily herself.

  Yet he could not. The next day he watched for her, but she did not come. He was almost relieved. Darkness fell, and he went inside, stripping to his loincloth and washing, then cutting a piece of venison for his supper. He had worked hard that day, and he ate well before blowing out the lantern and lying down on his bed of robes on the floor. He had never learned to sleep in a bed. It was warm, and he considered sleeping outside but was too weary to bother getting up again. He lay in the dark cabin, and again his thoughts turned unwillingly to Emily Stoner, sometimes to Sarah. For some reason the two of them sometimes swam together in his mind, but he didn’t understand why.

  He heard a light tap at the door, and his heart quickened. If it was Tom, the man would simply come inside. Caleb sat up. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me … Emily.”

  Caleb slowly rose, considering telling her to go away.

  “Caleb, don’t be mad. You didn’t really want me to go away before. I just know it. Please let me come in.”

  The boy knew Tom would tell him to send her away. But natural instincts prevented him from doing so. He lit a lamp and opened the door. She darted inside without a word, then took off her bonnet.

  “I don’t think anyone saw me,” she said, loosening her hair and removing a cape. She whirled, her white-blond hair brushing over her shoulders enticingly. She stopped and looked at him, her blood burning at the sight of his near nakedness, her curiosity at what lay under the cloth tied around his groin overwhelming. She met his eyes, and she knew instinctively that she had some kind of power over this boy, that even though he was strong, he was weak when she was near.

  “Father is sleeping very hard,” she told him. “He’s still sick, and he’s taken some kind of drug to make him sleep. He doesn’t even know I’m gone.” She laughed then, stepping closer. She took his hand, and he let her move it up and place it against her breast. She inhaled deeply. “I knew it,” she whispered. “I knew it would feel wonderful for you to touch me.”

  He suddenly pulled his hand away and stepped back. “Why do you do this?”

  She held his eyes with her strangely wild ones. “Because I want to know. I want to know all the things Father has forbidden me. I want to know about boys. Do you have a special girl, Caleb? A girl you would want for a wife, want to have babies with?”

  He felt the fire creeping through his blood again and did not answer.

  She smiled. “I could be your girl, couldn’t I?”

  He frowned. “It is wrong.”

  A look of wild defiance came into her eyes then, an almost evil cunningness that surprised him. “That is why I’m here,” she almost hissed. “Because it is wrong! My father says I’m bad, that I should never look at boys or touch them. He beats me. I hate him! Show me what bad is, Caleb. I’ll fool him. I’ll be what he says I am, and while he sleeps I’ll look at a boy, touch a boy.” She looked down at his loincloth. “What’s there, Caleb? Why did you jump away when I touched you and say that I was cruel?”

  He swallowed. “Please. Go away.”

  She unbuttoned her dress, and he stared in disbelief. “Why are you afraid, Caleb?”

  He stiffened. “I am afraid of nothing.”

  She pulled her dress over her shoulders and down to her waist. “See? I am different from you.”

  His mouth went dry and he could not move.

  “Show me, Caleb. I want to know what is different, what is bad, what mating is.” She closed her eyes, breathing deeply with the exhilarating joy of being free, truly free, of doing something she knew instinctively was against everything her cruel father preached.

  Caleb could not help allowing his eyes to drop to her young, firm breasts and pink nipples. She moved closer, and her offer was more than he could refuse. His curiosity and young passions were awakened to an agonizing level he couldn’t resist.

  “I saw a man and woman touch lips once. Touch my lips, Caleb.” Emily lifted her face to his.

  His eyes glazed with desire, and his lips quivered with the want to taste her so. He bent down, meeting her mouth. It was all the p
rompting he needed. He pulled her close, kissing her wildly and moving his chest back and forth over her breasts, groaning at the feel of them against his skin. She whimpered, returning his kiss, lost in him, swimming in the forbidden pleasure of being with the mysterious Indian boy.

  Caleb felt as if he couldn’t get enough. Instinct guided his actions as he lowered her to his robes on the floor and covered her with his body. He did not stop to wonder what his feelings for her truly were. They seemed to have nothing to do with love, only with learning, knowing, awakening, enjoying. She felt wonderful against him, beneath him.

  She laughed lightly as he undressed her, then gasped when he removed his loincloth, staring at his manhood. She seemed utterly fascinated by it. When her fingers gently felt him, she pretended to be utterly amazed when it swelled even more. He studied her as she studied him. Her skin was so white, the hairs that covered her secret places as blond as the hair on her head. He knew that within it lay that part of woman with which man mated. He had seen animals mate, had seen Black Antelope and Two Stars moving under their blankets.

  He moved on top of her, bending down and sucking curiously at her breasts. The action made her moan with pleasure, so he did it again. She grasped his head, arching up to him, whimpering his name, laughing and crying at the same time. He kissed her all over, her neck, her mouth, her breasts, her abdomen, fumbling then with himself until he found his mark, the moist warmth he knew instinctively lay waiting in her depths. She cried out when he entered her, and he wondered if he was hurting her, but he could not stop. In moments a wonderful relief engulfed him as his life poured into her, and then he felt suddenly weak.

  He went limp beside her, then smiled, pulling her against him.

  She looked into his eyes. “Why is it supposed to be bad, Caleb?” Her act of innocence was decidedly perfect.

  “I don’t know, except that we should be married, I think. When an Indian man and woman do this, it is understood they are married. Are we married now?”