“Sarah?”
Her eyes widened, and her full lips spread in a joyous smile that revealed her even white teeth. “Caleb!”
She flung her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. She smelled of sweet lilacs, and her long thick hair brushed the backs of his hands as his arms moved around her.
“Oh, Caleb, Caleb! It’s really you,” she exclaimed. “I don’t believe it. You really came.”
He didn’t know what to say, he was so struck by her beauty and holding her close.
A woman in an apron and cap came into the hallway. “Miss Sarah, what is it?”
Sarah reluctantly released him and turned, wiping at tears. “Joline, this is Caleb: Caleb Sax. The boy I told you was like a brother to me at Fort Dearborn.”
The woman in the apron eyed him up and down. “Boy? Appears more like a man to me, and a wild Indian at that.”
Sarah looked at Caleb and reddened deeply, breaking into light laughter. “Yes, he is certainly a man.” Her eyes glowed. “You do look wild in these parts, Caleb, but you look wonderful. Such beautiful beadwork!” She took his hand. “Caleb, this is Joline, one of our maids.” She didn’t even give him a chance to reply. She pulled him along, much as she had done that first day, leading him to the cabin and assuring him everything would be all right. She still held the same sweet innocence, the same joy and love. “Joline, get us something to drink. It’s so cold and damp outside. Perhaps Caleb would like some tea.”
She led Caleb over highly polished floors into a lovely room decorated with Oriental rugs, paintings and many plants and pretty vases. A fire crackled in a fireplace, and Sarah urged Caleb to sit down on a loveseat covered with mauve taffeta. He felt out of place in such a lovely home and was still at a loss for words. He had not expected her to be so beautiful, and yet still so much like the Sarah who had left Fort Dearborn. She sat down beside him, taking his hand again and holding it tightly between her own.
“Oh, Caleb, I can’t believe you’ve really come. It’s been four years! Where have you been?” Her eyes moved over him, and she felt strange new urgings at the sight of him, the magnificent bleached buckskins, his handsome face and rugged, wild look.
“I have been living among the Cheyenne. There is much to tell you, Sarah.” He searched her green eyes, eyes he thought he could drown in. “I have a son … he is still with the Cheyenne. I could not bring him because he is still small, and I did not know what I would find at Fort Dearborn. He is over two years old now.”
Her eyes widened, and she fought a sudden surge of jealousy. “A son?” Of course. She could not blame him. She had her own life now, and he had his. She smiled warmly. “Oh, Caleb, just look at you—you look like a true Indian. Father wrote and told me you killed that awful Kyle Wiggins, and that people were against you and you had to leave Fort Dearborn.” She stopped, her eyes quickly tearing. “Surely you know by now that Father is dead.”
So Tom had never told her about Emily Stoner. It was just as well, Caleb decided. His eyes filled with sadness. “I know. That is part of the reason I came. I was not sure that you knew. I did not know until only a few weeks ago. He was to meet me …” He swallowed, and her heart ached at the tears in his eyes. “But he never came. So I came here to find you.”
She squeezed his hand tighter. “Oh, Caleb, I never saw him again either. When we heard about the massacre and that there were some refugees at Fort Wayne, I begged Uncle Terrence to send someone to find out if Father was among them. The man learned that Father and Bo Sanders had both been killed. My only consolation was to know you weren’t with them. I’ve prayed every night since then that somehow, some day, you’d come. Oh, Caleb, it was so terrible. I’ve been so lonely here, and then never seeing father … I wondered if I would ever see another loved one again. And now you’re here. It’s so wonderful to see you. Tell me about your son, and his mother.”
He pulled his hand away and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “His mother is dead. Walking Grass was killed in a raid by enemy Indians. We were only married for eleven months when it happened. Our son was still a baby.”
She put a hand on his arm. “Oh, Caleb. I’m so sorry.”
He looked at her, seeing the sincerity in her eyes. His sweet hearted Sarah. She had not changed. “We have many things to talk about,” he told her. “But I am on my way to New Orleans to join the volunteers who will fight the British. I will come back, Sarah, and this time I promise not to take so long.”
“Oh, but you must stay a little while—stay for supper, at least. Uncle Terrence and Aunt Mary will be home soon. They must meet you. I’ve told them so much about you.”
Their eyes held, and he felt warm and wonderful and loved. “I will stay that long. I am to get back on a steamboat by dark.”
“Oh, Caleb, must you go at all? It will be dangerous. We’ve heard about the British coming to New Orleans. There will be thousands of them. What if something happens to you, too? I don’t think I could bear it.”
He smiled consolingly. “You hardly know me anymore. Even if I did not go, I would have to go back to the Cheyenne because of my son. But I go to fight the British, at least once, to avenge Tom Sax’s memory. It will not be the first time I have killed for vengeance. It is my way of facing grief. It’s the only way I know. When Walking Grass was killed, I rode on many raids against the Crow, our enemy. I have killed many men, Sarah. Perhaps I should not even be sitting here talking to one so beautiful and civilized.”
“Don’t be silly, Caleb. You’re my brother.”
Their eyes held, saying with only a look that there was more between them than sibling love. She reddened slightly, grateful that Joline came in then with a tea tray and two cups.
The maid set them down on a table in front of Sarah and Caleb. “There you are, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Joline.”
The woman eyed Caleb warily. “Are you all right?”
Sarah laughed, a delightful, lilting sound. “Of course I’m all right. You can go, Joline.”
The woman left reluctantly, and Sarah poured Caleb a cup of tea. He took it, the tiny cup feeling awkward in his large hand.
“It must have been terrible for you, Caleb, losing a new wife and being left with a little baby.” She picked up her own cup. “Oh, Caleb, tell me about your son. What is his name?”
Caleb sipped some tea and set the cup back on the table. “I named him Tom, after our Tom. He is a strong boy. I miss him.”
“Oh, of course you do. Will you go back for him after New Orleans, Caleb?”
He shrugged and sighed. “I do not know right now. First I will come back here and see you again. Perhaps after that I will stay with the Cheyenne.”
She frowned, suddenly not wanting him to go away again, at least not to stay. “Oh, Caleb, life out there must be so dangerous. You should bring your son back here, where he can go to school and have the care of a doctor if he gets sick.”
He smiled patiently. “The Indians have been taking care of themselves for hundreds of years without white man’s doctors. I am myself just healed from a wound that would probably have killed a white man.”
She set her cup aside, concern in her eyes. “Oh, Caleb, what happened? I thought you looked thin.”
“My raids against the Crow. I finally was wounded by one of them with a tomahawk in my side. It was very bad. While I lay healing, I thought about Tom, wondered why he never came to meet me as planned. With Walking Grass dead, everything there was too familiar to me and hurt too much. So I decided to return to Fort Dearborn and find out about Tom.”
She studied him a moment, thinking how wild and beautiful he looked. It seemed incredible that he was sitting beside her, this young man who had killed enemy Indians in battle. How strange that her sweet Caleb could be so vicious. She saw nothing vicious about him now, but she knew he was strong and skilled, and knew instinctively that he was the kind of man who would risk his life to defend her.
“I miss Tom Sax,” he said quietly.
“I wanted to talk to him, ask his advice. I have lost so much these last four years.”
She wiped at her own quiet tears. “Yes. We both have lost much. And I thought perhaps I’d never see you again. It’s been so lonely, Caleb. I never saw Father again, either, and for so long I’ve wondered about you, remembering the happy days at Fort Dearborn when I helped Mother teach you things.”
He studied her, seeing a sadness in her eyes that was more than just the loss of her father and mother. “What is it like here, Sarah?” he asked. “Are you happy?”
She looked at her lap. “It’s all right. I mean, Uncle Terrence has been wonderful. I have a closet full of the latest fashions, a good education and all of that. But it isn’t nearly as much fun as Fort Dearborn was for me. I miss the little cabin, the deep woods, the big lake. Those were my happiest years.” She met his eyes again. “Uncle Terrence didn’t seem terribly upset by father’s death. I always suspected there were bad feelings between them. Whenever I bring up the subject of Father, Uncle Terrence refuses to talk about him, and that makes me lonelier. But in every other way he’s been very kind to me, and so has Aunt Mary. But—” She stopped, reddening again. “Oh, it’s silly, and why should you care? You have your son and your own life now.”
He frowned, leaning forward and making her look at him again. “What is silly? Is something wrong?”
She shrugged. “Oh, nothing, really. Uncle Terrence is just after me to accompany a certain young man to the theater and such. He’s good friends with the young man’s father and the two of them want us to marry, I think. But I don’t like him. He drinks, and he’s arrogant and spoiled. He comes around all the time and I’m not sure how to get rid of him. Uncle Terrence has been so good to me. I don’t want to disappoint him.”
A surprising jealousy crept into Caleb’s heart. Whoever the young man was, he already did not like him. A feeling of protectiveness began to take hold in his blood. This was Sarah, beautiful, sweet, innocent Sarah. She should never go to some man she did not like. He remembered his first night with Walking Grass, how frightened she had been. What if some scoundrel—He suddenly stood, surprised he had thought of it at all.
“Your uncle cannot force you to marry this young man, can he?” he asked, thinking about Fire Wolf.
“Oh, no. I don’t think he’d ever do that. It’s just that Byron—that’s his name—comes around so often. It’s obvious he’s interested, and Uncle Terrence thinks it’s wonderful.”
He turned and looked at her. “Is there something I can do?”
Their eyes held for a moment, then Sarah turned away with a blush. “No. I suppose not. I just wish—” She reddened again and looked at her cup of tea. “I used to wish you would come and maybe take me away somewhere. We’ve been like brother and sister, and there is no law that says I must stay with Uncle Terrence. I used to wish you would come back to civilization and maybe … I don’t know, be a rancher or a farmer or something like that. And you’d send for me and we’d live like we used to.”
Her eyes met his again, and a wave of desire swept through him so forcefully that he felt guilty. This was Sarah … little Sarah.
“I could perhaps try living the white man’s way again. But we are not blood brother and sister. I’m sure your uncle would object. Tom meant for you to be raised by him. That is why he sent you here.”
She rose, sighing deeply. “I know. It’s just that I’ve missed that life, Caleb, the cabin, helping plant mother’s garden and then harvesting and canning the vegetables, sewing our own clothes. I belonged there. Here I don’t belong.” She met his eyes again. “Do you know what I mean?”
Their eyes held for a long time. “I know. For me it is worse, for in many ways I belong nowhere, neither in this world or the Indian’s. But I am more at home in the wilds. I have given much thought to my son, my life. Somehow I must decide what I, too, will do, how I should raise him. But he should have—” He stopped short, feeling suddenly nervous and awkward. “He must have a mother, and I am not ready to feel that way again about any woman.”
Her eyes brightened. “I’m like his aunt, Caleb, aren’t I? You could go and get your son, and we could all live together. If you aren’t ready for a wife again, there would at least be a woman around. And having a loving aunt is just about as close as you can come to a mother.”
She looked at him with eyes full of hope. He was struck by the fact that she was totally serious, but suddenly he could not imagine living with her as a sister and brother should. “I don’t think—”
The front door burst open. “We’re home,” a man’s voice boomed. The voice reminded Caleb very much of Tom. “Who owns the horse and gear out front? They look In—”
He stopped at the entrance to the parlor, and his face actually paled at the sight of Caleb standing there, looking very Indian, very wild. “Who the hell are you?”
“Uncle Terrence, this is Caleb,” Sarah told him excitedly. “Caleb Sax, the young Indian boy I told you father adopted and brought to live with us at Fort Dearborn.”
Caleb stared in near shock, for the man greatly resembled his brother. His hair was a bright red but graying, and he sported a red mustache. He was not as burly as Tom Sax, perhaps because he had not led the rugged life that Tom had. A rather plain and plump woman walked up beside the man and gawked at Caleb.
“Hello,” Caleb said to them both. “I came to see Sarah. It has been many years, and I was not sure she knew about Tom’s death.”
Terrence Sax looked him over suspiciously. “Well she does know. And you don’t exactly look like the kind of young man who likes civilized places, so I suppose you’ll be leaving soon?”
Caleb was shocked by the man’s rudeness, but said nothing for Sarah’s sake. Sarah reddened at the remark, and Caleb quickly gathered that, although this household was one of wealth and comfort, it did not hold a great deal of warmth and love, two things Sarah Sax had grown up with, things she needed very much.
“I will be,” he answered. “I am heading for New Orleans, to join the volunteers there who will fight under Jackson against the British.”
Terrence Sax’s eyebrows arched, and the man looked pleased that Caleb would be going into battle. “That so? Well, that’s a noble thing to do.” He stepped up and put out his hand. Caleb took it, thinking how clammy and thin it was and how easy it would be to throw the man across the room. Terrence turned and put out his hand to the woman. “This is my wife, Mary.” He put up both arms then, indicating that Caleb should look around the room. “And this is the home to which Tom Sax sent his daughter to be raised. Surely you can see that we have provided her with a fine home.”
Caleb kept his cool, blue eyes on the man. “Yes. It is very nice.”
“Nice?” The man chuckled. “Yes, indeed. I have kept my word to Tom to take good care of Sarah.” The man put an arm around her. “She wants for nothing, Caleb. So if you are concerned about her as a brother would be about a sister, you have no worries. Where will you go after New Orleans?”
Caleb decided not to mention that he might return to Saint Louis. “I am not sure. I have a son in the west with the Cheyenne. I must go back to him.”
Sax looked relieved. “Well, a son! That’s very nice. And you look as though you fit that land, more Indian than white, if you know what I mean. I don’t have a lot of use for Indians, mind you, or that wild kind of life Tom led. It killed poor Cora.” He moved away from Sarah and walked to a buffet where he poured himself a drink. Caleb glanced at Sarah as the man talked, sensing she was more unhappy than she had even let on. “But since Sarah was always so fond of you, you are welcome in our home as her friend and brother. Will you stay for supper?”
“I will stay. Sarah has already invited me. After that I must catch a steamboat to New Orleans.”
“Fine. Fine.” The man held up a bottle of whiskey. “Would you like a drink? This is some of the best.”
Caleb shook his head. “No. I seldom drink the firewater.”
“Fi
rewater?” The man laughed heartily. “Firewater! You certainly are Indian.”
Caleb could hardly believe the man was Tom Sax’s brother. He looked again at Sarah, who blushed at her uncle’s rudeness. Terrence Sax made sure after that that Sarah and Caleb had no time to talk alone. He wanted to know all about the “wilderness” and the “wild Indians.” Through supper he kept the conversation going, but it hung dangerously when the man accused Tom Sax again of killing Cora. The man obviously disliked Tom greatly, and Caleb did not like his verbal attacks. Caleb wondered at the strange hatred between the two men, but Tom was gone now and would never be able to tell his side, even if Terrence did tell, which he did not seem willing to do. But Caleb did not like it when a person spoke only bad things about a dead man.
It was a tense meal, and Caleb felt the walls closing in on him. He knew he could never live in such a house, a house full of so many rules and manners. He almost felt as though he could not breathe, and he made an excuse to leave sooner than he had planned, saying he was afraid he would miss the steamship. Sax would not leave Sarah’s side as Caleb went to the door, and Caleb felt too awkward by then to try to embrace the girl, although he wanted very much to hold her for just a moment and assure her he would come back and help her in any way he could. It seemed strange that she would need any help at all, for she had a good life. But there were some things more important than wealth and material possessions. Sarah was perfectly cared for, but starving for affection, and apparently somewhat afraid of the young man called Byron.
Caleb turned and left, and Sarah went to her room, but as soon as she got inside she closed the door and hurried to double windows that opened out on to a second story terrace. She parted the lacy curtains and climbed out, her old tomboy nature taking over as she threw her legs over the railing around the terrace and climbed down a rose trellis, running over the lawn before calling out Caleb’s name. The young man was already mounted and heading down the street. He turned at her voice, then swung his leg over the gray gelding and slid off, walking up to meet her.
Savage Horizons Page 20