Savage Horizons

by Rosanne Bittner

  “Do not ever touch her again, or I will kill you,” a man’s voice hissed. “And you will not die quickly.”

  The knife moved away and Byron was shoved so hard that he fell to his knees.

  Sarah stared in surprise, watching as Caleb Sax re-sheathed his knife and walked toward her, a look of determined possession on his face. He wore his usual Indian garb, his hair pulled into one thick braid at the side. Their eyes held a moment, and his look of possession was matched by her own feelings of belonging.

  “Are you all right, Sarah?”

  She swallowed and nodded, still shaking, while Byron got to his feet, his face beet red with anger. “Who the hell are you?” he growled at Caleb.

  Caleb turned, the warning look in his icy blue eyes putting fear in Byron Clawson’s heart. “I am Caleb Sax. Sarah and I were like brother and sister at Fort Dearborn, and I do not like seeing her hurt. She said she does not like you, so leave her alone. If you were a Cheyenne you would die for touching a maiden that way, and if we were not in a civilized place, I would gladly do the killing.”

  Byron straightened, trying to appear unafraid by holding up his chin haughtily. “Hurt me and you’ll hang, Indian! I’m important in this town and so is my father. You can’t come here and threaten me and tell me whether I can or can’t touch a woman.”

  Caleb stepped closer, towering over him. “Can’t I, white eyes?” In a split second his knee rammed up between the man’s legs, making Byron buckle with pain. “You will not say anything about this, Byron Clawson, and you will not touch Sarah again,” Caleb warned, kneeling close to be sure the man heard him. “Because if you do, you will always have to walk looking over your shoulder. You will never know when I will come for you, just as today you did not know I was near. I am in the shadows, in the wind. I have killed many men, so why should I stop with a useless coward like you? I suggest that when you are able to walk you go home. Sarah will make an excuse for you.”

  Caleb rose then, leaving Byron bent over and groaning. He took Sarah’s arm and led the trembling girl farther along the creek to a place where they could climb back up the embankment without being seen by the others. Then he embraced her. “I am sorry. I did not want to be violent in front of you, but he made me angry.”

  She broke into tears and hugged him tightly. “I’m just glad you came. Oh, Caleb, I was so afraid something had happened to you in New Orleans. I thought you weren’t coming back.”

  “I just arrived to visit you again. When I noticed all the people I was sure I would not be completely welcome, so I held back, watching you, and saw that excuse of a man take you into the trees. I almost didn’t follow. I thought perhaps you would rather I didn’t, but I was afraid he was the one you told me about, and when I saw him hurting you, I knew he was.”

  She raised her tear stained face to look at him, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to kiss her himself, but he held back. This was Sarah. It was not right to have these strange, wonderful feelings for her. It was not right to be so jealous at the sight or even the thought of some other man tasting her lips, feeling her full breasts against his chest as he could feel them now.

  He wiped the tears on her face. “Go back to your party. You had better go in the house and wash your face first. Tell them Byron got sick from too much whiskey and decided to go home. Tomorrow I will come to see you. When is a good time?”

  She dropped her eyes, confused by the new desires he stirred in her. “You’d better come after five, when Uncle Terrence is there. He’d be angry if you came earlier.”

  “It is hard to talk with your uncle around.”

  She met his eyes again. “It’s better than not seeing you at all. Maybe if he gets to know you better, he’d at least consider the idea of you and I…” She blushed and pulled away slightly. “You and I going somewhere together, to ranch or farm or something. I’m sure he wants me to be happy.” She sighed and shook her head. “What am I saying? Uncle Terrence would never allow it.” She looked at him pleadingly. “Maybe you can at least make him understand how much I hate Byron, Caleb. If he would just stop pushing Byron Clawson on me life wouldn’t be so unbearable. And I would so love to go live in the country again, and maybe have some animals and… and I would love to see your little boy, Caleb.”

  He smiled reassuringly. “I will talk to him. He does not own you, Sarah. He is only your uncle. He was supposed to watch over you and give you protection until you were of age. But all that is over now, and I am just as capable of caring for you and protecting you as anyone. All I have to do is get myself settled somewhere. Go on back to the house now.”

  He took her arm again, and she looked up at him. “Thank you so much, Caleb. You took a chance. Byron won’t forget this, and he has a lot of influence in this city, or at least his father does.”

  Caleb’s eyes turned icy again. “He knows what will happen if he makes trouble, for me or you.” He led her closer to the house. “You should not be seen with me, not today. I will leave you here.”

  He hesitated, then could not resist bending down and kissing her cheek. “I will see you tomorrow.”

  He left quickly, and she stared after him, her heart suddenly lighter. She had no idea what either of them would do or how she would ever convince her uncle to let her go on her own. She only knew she suddenly didn’t care about Saint Louis or the riches Terrence Sax could give her. She cared only about a warm little cabin surrounded by plowed fields and grazing animals, and a strong but gentle man who would love her and take care of her.

  Caleb arrived on time the next day, dressed in cotton pants and a clean white shirt topped with a leather jacket, white man’s clothing he had purchased with some of his pay for volunteering at New Orleans. None of the men had expected compensation, but the citizens of New Orleans had contributed what they could in gratitude, and the till had added up to quite a bit of money, enough to keep a man going for a couple of months if he was frugal.

  Sarah smiled warmly when she opened the door, impressed and surprised by his appearance, thinking him the most handsome man in all of Saint Louis. She was glad he had not cut his hair, for she liked it just the way it was, long and thick and beautiful. Caleb would not be Caleb without long hair. She gave him a sly smile as she pretended to be surprised to see him.

  “Caleb!” She turned away, calling back into the house, “Uncle Terrence, Caleb Sax has come back.”

  She ushered him inside and closed the door as Terrence Sax came out of the parlor. The older man looked Caleb over suspiciously before smiling stiffly.

  “Well, you made it through, I see. I heard some pretty exciting stories about New Orleans. Did you get to meet Andrew Jackson?”

  The man put his hand out and Caleb shook it. “Yes, sir. He is quite a leader. And my ears still ring from all the guns exploding around me. It is something I will remember for a long time.”

  “I can imagine.” Sax looked from Caleb to Sarah’s eager face, then back to Caleb. “So, you’ve come to see Sarah once more before going back out into the wilds?”

  Caleb held the man’s eyes steadily. “Yes. But I may stay in Saint Louis a little while longer than I had planned. Sarah and I were great friends at Fort Dearborn, and I love her like a sister. I would like your permission to visit her as often as I can until I leave. I feel it is my responsibility to Tom Sax to make very sure she is happy before I leave.”

  Sax’s eyes hardened and his jaw flexed in repressed anger. “Why shouldn’t she be happy? She has everything.”

  “I did not mean to offend you, Mr. Sax. I did not even mean that I thought she was not happy. It’s just that we hardly had a chance to talk the last time I was here. I fully intend to go back to my son, but after so many years apart, I would simply like to talk to Sarah a little more before I go. We share many good memories as well as some bad ones. Cora and Tom were her parents, and they were like parents to me.”

  Their eyes held challengingly, and Terrence Sax quickly surmised that the, surest way to make
Sarah more interested in this man would be to insult him and throw him out in front of her. He would tell Caleb Sax just what he thought, but he would tell him without Sarah present. He would make sure Caleb Sax left Saint Louis soon.

  “I understand,” he said cooly. “And because you were once close as children, I don’t see why you can’t visit while you’re here. Just how long do you intend to stay in town, Caleb?”

  Caleb forced a friendly smile. “I do not even know. I am anxious to get back to my son.”

  The man breathed a sigh of relief. “Of course. Well, do come into the parlor. I’ll have Joline set an extra place and you shall have supper with us again.”

  “I really should not. You do not need—”

  “Nonsense. Think no more about it.”

  The man walked toward the kitchen, and Sarah led Caleb quickly into the parlor. “I do not think we will have much chance to talk,” he told her quietly.

  “I know.” Her beautiful green eyes danced with the teasing excitement he remembered seeing there when she was a little girl. “But at least you’re here, and he’s agreed to let you visit. You can tell us all about New Orleans, Caleb, and I want to know more about your life with the Cheyenne. You can at least talk about those things.”

  Their eyes held and he smiled. It felt so good to be near her.

  Sarah was restless and unable to sleep, her mind filled with thoughts of Caleb Sax. She tried to envision him riding against the Crow, fighting wild Indians. How strong and fearless he was. It was exciting to think of the kind of life he had led, to realize the young man she called friend had truly lived with the Cheyenne and had married an Indian, going through the horrible Sun Dance sacrifice to prove his worth.

  Yet the thought of Caleb with a pretty Indian maiden brought forth a jealousy so fierce it surprised her. Why did it bother her to think of Caleb holding and kissing an Indian woman, a woman who bore his child? The idea of making love frightened and fascinated her. Sarah had always thought it would be terribly humiliating, and yet the idea of doing something like that with Caleb made her whole body tingle. Somehow she could picture it, for Caleb would be so gentle and kind, and afterward she would truly belong to him.

  She gasped at her own thoughts, sitting up and shaking her head in an effort to clear her mind. How terrible to envision herself with Caleb that way, and yet the picture came so easily. The way he had looked at her tonight had made her blush and stirred wonderful feelings deep in her soul. Was it possible she was in love with Caleb, the way a woman loved a man she married? Perhaps she had always loved him, even when they first met as children. Perhaps she just hadn’t recognized it because she was so young.

  She put a hand to her stomach and got up, walking to a window to look out at the moon. It was wrong to feel this way, not just because she should be thinking of him as a brother, but because he would leave in a short time. She knew by her uncle’s attitude that he would not even consider letting her leave with Caleb, no matter how honorable Caleb’s intentions. She could not bear the thought of his leaving, perhaps never to return this time. The idea made her feel like crying. Perhaps Caleb would go back and marry another Indian woman. Somehow that hurt more than anything, and again she felt filled with love for him as she stood looking out at the stars.

  Just the thought of Caleb brought a warmth to her blood and a flutter to her heart. The Caleb who had returned was not the Caleb she had left at Fort Dearborn. He was mature, a man in every way, so much more manly than someone like Byron Clawson could ever be. The thought of Byron made her shudder. She had not seen him since the birthday party, but he lurked in the shadows of her life like a monster ready to pounce. Sarah feared that if and when Caleb left, Byron would spring, insisting on being permitted to marry her. Surely Caleb would not let that happen. Surely he felt for her the way she was beginning to feel for him, more than brother and sister, much more than friends. So much more.

  Down the hall from Sarah’s room her uncle angrily tossed his slippers and sat down on the edge of the bed.

  “He’ll be gone before long,” Mary assured him.

  “He’ll be gone, all right,” Terrence Sax grumbled. “I’ll make sure of it.”

  “Oh, Terrence, how do you intend to do that?”

  “I’ll go and talk to him, that’s what. I’ll find out where he’s staying and go talk to him.” He stood up and paced. “That half-breed bastard can’t come here and walk right into Sarah’s life like he owns her. I’ll not allow it. Did you see the look in her eyes tonight?”

  “I saw. But he’s practically a wild Indian, Terrence, not the settling type. Stop worrying. He has a son living with the Indians. That will pull him away eventually. If you interfere you’ll only make matters worse.”

  “Oh no I won’t. I’m going to prevent this situation from getting worse! I’ll—”

  “You’ll do what?” His wife’s eyes narrowed angrily. “You’re awfully good at sticking your nose in people’s lives and ruining them, Terrence Sax. You did it to Tom and Cora. Wasn’t that enough?”

  He turned and glowered at her, his face red with anger. He wanted to hit her, tell her to shut up. But his own guilt and the knowledge that Mary was right always kept him from doing so. She turned over in bed, and Terrence left the room.

  He hesitated at Sarah’s bedroom door. Perhaps he should tell her everything, talk to her, make her understand why he wanted the best for her. But she would never understand. He walked down the stairs to the library and poured himself a drink, contemplating how to approach Caleb Sax and make him leave town.

  Chapter

  Sixteen

  CALEB had never felt so confused. Considering the opportunities Sarah had in Saint Louis, perhaps it was best he simply leave her to her uncle. It would not be so difficult but for Byron Clawson, who he had no doubt would try his way with Sarah again once Caleb was gone. But leaving Sarah had become more than a matter of worrying about Byron Clawson. Her angelic face continued to haunt him in the night, old needs combining with a startling awareness of her beauty and womanhood to make sleep impossible.

  He sat up and lit an oil lamp. He had rented a small room in a boarding house, the woman who ran it eyeing him warily as though she feared she would be scalped. She had promptly warned him that she had no use for Indians and he’d better watch himself or she’d have the law on him. The idea of staying in such a bigoted place didn’t appeal to him, but he had to stay until he decided what to do about Sarah. But what could he do? He was one young, poor Indian against a very powerful, wealthy white man, and in Caleb’s mind Sarah was like a lamb surrounded by wolves. Terrence Sax apparently wanted the best for her, so much so that not even her own happiness mattered.

  He rose and lit a pipe, puffing it a moment, the four walls of the room bringing on the suffocating feeling such places often did to his restless spirit.

  He had to figure out what his true feelings were for Sarah. When he had first come to see her, he had not thought of her as a beautiful young woman with a heart and spirit any man could love. When he contemplated it, it seemed she’d be a perfect mother for Tom, the perfect solution to his own confused life. Caleb wasn’t a man who could settle in a city, surrounded by civilization. Sarah would be willing to settle on a ranch or farm in the country. An Indian woman would consider nothing other than staying with her people. Sarah seemed liked the answer to his questions about how to live out his life, how to raise young Tom. They could have a little of both worlds, live where he could feel free, yet with enough civilization to suit Sarah.

  “My God,” he whispered, taking the pipe from his mouth. “What am I thinking?”

  Again he was envisioning Sarah as his wife. There had been moments when he even allowed the fantasy of what it would be like to make love to her take over, and more than once the raging jealousy and anger had returned at the thought of some other man doing that to her.

  A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts and he set his pipe aside, pulling out his hunting knife from th
e weapons belt that hung on a hook.

  “Who is it?” he asked.

  “Terrence Sax,” came the reply.

  Caleb frowned, amazed the man was still up at this late hour. He opened the door cautiously, not fully trusting the man. Sax stood outside looking anxious. “What do you want?”

  “I want to talk to you. May I come inside?”

  Caleb looked past the man but saw no one. He opened the door and let Sax inside, then closed the door and bolted it. He turned to see Sax looking around the small, plain room with disdain. The man faced Caleb then, looking him over. Caleb wore only his leggings. Sax studied the scars left from the Sun Dance, and the deep, white scar in Caleb’s side where the Crow warrior had slashed him with his tomahawk. His eyes moved to Caleb’s face, handsome but still bearing the thin white scar left by Kyle Wiggins.

  “Your many scars say it all, Caleb,” the man finally said.

  “I do not understand.”

  “They only show the kind of man you are, wild and untrustworthy.” The man sighed deeply. “I’ve come to ask you to leave Saint Louis right away—tomorrow if possible. I am willing to pay you.”

  Caleb’s deep blue eyes turned cold and calculating. “I want none of your money. Is that what you think I came here for?’

  The man’s eyebrows arched. “Isn’t it?”

  Caleb sneered. “You white men are all alike. You think only in terms of money. I do not understand how you and Tom Sax could have been brothers. You are alike in looks, but inside you are very different.”

  Sax’s eyes narrowed angrily. “Forget about Tom. He’s dead. And I’m asking you to forget about Sarah. I want you to leave, Caleb, before the girl gets… ideas.”

  “Ideas?”

  “You know what I’m talking about. I saw how she looked at you earlier this evening. You’re like a God to her.” The man stepped closer. “All right, let’s say I believe you when you say you aren’t here for money. God knows Indians have about as much sense about money as an ape. But Indian or white, you’re a man, and I’ve seen you watch her. I know what you’re thinking, and you’d best get it out of your mind, understand?”