She made an odd choking sound, wilting against his chest and hugging him. “Oh, Caleb, my poor darling Caleb,” she groaned.
He moved his arms around her. He needed her strength more than she had ever needed his.
“He was so badly wounded,” he repeated, as though he wanted to be sure she understood. “He was dying … I was afraid the Comanche would …”
She felt him shaking and realized he was crying. “Dear God,” she whispered. “Oh, Caleb.” She knew full well the hell he was going through. This was something that would haunt Caleb Sax forever. Inside he was so gentle, so loving. But the forces of the outside world had turned him into a man who survived by being practical, sometimes vicious, having to make terrible choices. Those choices were complicated by his two bloods. “Oh, Caleb, I wish I knew how to comfort you.”
He breathed deeply, throwing back his head and struggling to regain his composure. “Nothing can. Time, perhaps … or someday seeing Lynda happy again.”
Sarah reached up and touched his face. “She will be. She’s young, Caleb. And she’s carrying Lee’s baby.”
He glanced toward the house again, wet tears still on his cheeks. “I hope she can keep it. It’s important she has it.”
“She’s a strong girl. And she has us.”
He looked down at her. “You, maybe. Me she will hate for taking Lee out there. I don’t ever want to tell her I’m the one who—” His voice choked.
“Caleb, she wouldn’t hate you for that.”
“Yes she would. I don’t want her to know. Only Tom and you know. John thinks he died from the Comanche lance. It’s hard enough facing her without her knowing I slit his throat with my own knife.” The words were spoken bitterly through gritted teeth.
Sarah hung her head. “Caleb, Lee went of his own choice. You could never have kept him home. Lynda knows that. John is his full-blood nephew, Marie’s son. He had to go. Lynda won’t ever blame you for that.” She looked up at him. “It’s like I said. It was this land that killed him, not you—not even the Comanche.”
He looked down at her and touched her face lightly. “And what will this land do to you? What will it do to little James, or perhaps to my Tom, or Lynda?”
“It’s no use wondering all those things. We can only take a day at a time. You love it here, and Tom loves it, too. Lynda will stay because she has us. She has lost Lee, but she has her mother and father, and that’s so important to her. She loves you, Caleb. She idolizes you. She could never hate you.” She took hold of his hand and kissed his palm. “Come inside, Caleb.”
She put an arm around his waist, urging him to come with her. They walked to the porch, where Caleb stopped to look down at his son. He’d saved another son, but at a great expense. Yet he’d, sacrifice anything for his offspring, even his own life. Right now he wished that was what he had given up for John, not Lee’s life. He leaned over and lightly touched James’s smooth cheek. He ached over Lee’s death, yet he had to be glad he was alive, to come home to this.
“He is beautiful,” he told Sarah.
“A little ornery lately. I think he’s having tummy pains. This is the best he’s slept since yesterday.”
He looked back at her, noticing her tired eyes. Delivering and raising a baby in this untamed land was not easy. But Sarah would never complain. She had had the child for him and would do it again. He took a deep breath before entering the house, where Lynda sat in a rocker, bent over and weeping. Tom stood beside her. He looked helplessly at his father, who left Sarah and walked over to Lynda, kneeling in front of her.
“I’m so sorry, Lynda,” he told her, his voice gruff with emotion. “He was like a son. We’ll make a stone for him, in his memory.”
“He … didn’t suffer?” she asked between sobs. “You wouldn’t lie to me? The Comanche didn’t capture him? Torture him?”
Caleb looked up at Tom, then back at Lynda, touching her hair. “No. We had snuck into the tipi where John was kept. We thought there were only two drunken warriors inside. But there was a third.” What was the use telling her it was a woman? “He stabbed Lee with a lance before he or I had a chance to react. Lee died instantly.” He turned and glanced at John, who swallowed back tears and nodded to show he understood that his father wanted Lynda to believe Lee died right away, and not at the hands of a woman.
Lynda threw her arms around her father’s neck. “Hold me, Father,” she wept. “What will I do? What will I do without Lee!”
He stood up, pulling her up with him and holding her tightly. “You’ll do fine. You’re a strong, beautiful, good woman, and you’re carrying Lee’s baby. You will hang on and bear this so you don’t lose that baby, you hear? That baby is the most important thing in the world now, a part of Lee you can keep forever. And you have us. You will always have your mother and father. And some day there will be another man for you. You’re only eighteen. You will love again.”
“No I won’t. Not ever! Not like Lee!”
He patted her back. “Yes, you will. I know the feeling, Lynda. I have loved three women, each for her own special goodness. When I lost Walking Grass and Marie, I wanted to die, too. But somehow we keep going. And then God brought Sarah back to me. And He brought me a daughter I never knew I had, and then blessed us with a new son. Now you’ll give me a grandchild, and we’re still together—still family. You will love again, I promise. And Lee will be looking on and he’ll be happy for you. He’ll always be with us. Men like Lee never die, Lynda.”
She choked in a sob. “I keep thinking … he’ll come riding in soon. Without a body to bury … it’s hard to imagine … he’s really gone.”
Caleb’s jaw flexed against his own desire to weep again. But for the moment he had to be strong for his daughter. He would save his own tears for a time when he was alone. And there would be many more tears for him, as well as haunting dreams for a long time to come. He could still see Lee’s face, his eyes wide with fright and humiliation, his hands reaching for him, hear his voice pleading with him to end his life. How awful was the sting of death. How many more times would he suffer that sting?
Tom carried a handful of fresh biscuits and a bottle of wine to the small hill behind the main house, where the little graveyard for the Sax family was sadly growing. Here lay Marie, her mother, and her son David, as well as the several Cherokee who had died on Sax land, including the fresh graves of those who had died in the fight with the Comanche. And now there was a new grave, only it wasn’t really a grave at all. There had been no body to put there. There was only a stone, bearing the name Lee Whitestone.
They had all been home for two weeks. They had quickly left the Handels to get back to their own land, where Tom took over the hiring of more men, helped clean up the burned debris of the barn, and sent men to search for more wild mustangs to replenish the Sax herd as well.
But it was not easy without the help of his father. Caleb was having trouble with his left arm. It was still very sore. But it was not the arm that kept him from taking over his usual position as master of the Sax land. His spirit was gone. He didn’t seem to care about getting back to normal, and Tom knew why. Caleb Sax couldn’t bear to watch his daughter’s agony. Lynda sat at the grave site every day, barely eating, her tears coming unexpectedly. She slept at her parents’ house, unable to bear staying in the little cabin she had shared with Lee, but she sat up crying half the night, every night. In spite of all the family support, her grief would not leave her, and she had lost weight.
It was all killing Caleb Sax, and Tom decided it was time for it to end. He approached Lynda, who sat alone under an old, gnarled cottonwood that hung over the little graveyard.
“All right, little sister. It’s time to start eating,” he spoke up, going to sit beside her.
Lynda looked up at him. She loved this handsome brother of hers, but right now it irritated her that he had intruded on her desire to be alone and she told him so.
“You’ve been alone too much, Lynda. This is not a time to si
t and brood. And if you really loved Lee, you’ll start eating and stay healthy so you can deliver a nice, healthy baby for him. You keep this up and you’ll lose it.”
“Please go away, Tom.”
“No. I won’t go away.” He unfolded the cloth napkin and laid the biscuits in her lap. “They’re still warm. Now get busy. I brought some wine, too, to relax you better. You know Mr. Handel makes the best homemade wine in these parts. You try some. And I want you to start eating, or I’m going to consider it a disgrace to Lee’s memory, the way you are acting. How do you think he would feel if he knew you were neglecting his baby?”
She met his eyes. “Neglecting his baby? I most certainly am not!”
“Yes you are—by not eating. You’re thin as a skeleton. You intend to deliver a baby skeleton?”
A faint smile drifted over her lips and she picked up a biscuit and took a bite. She chewed slowly and could barely swallow it. “What am I going to do, Tom? There is no one in the whole world like Lee.”
“Of course there isn’t, just like there’s no other you or me or Caleb or Sarah. Everybody is different, with wonderful things about them that people miss once they’re gone. Lee was a good man. You think it isn’t hard on the rest of us? He was my best friend, you know. I grew up with him. I knew him a lot more years than you did. I’m damned lost without him.”
She looked at him sympathetically then, reaching out and touching his arm. “I know. I’m sorry, Tom.”
He sighed. “I know the loss is greater for you, but I’m worried about you. Don’t add to your sorrow by losing the baby, Lynda. You are a strong woman. Look at all the other things you went through: that orphanage, the factory and that horrible supervisor you told us about, plus falling in love with a gambler and seeing him killed. Now Lee. But at least you had him for a while. He gave you strength and love when you needed it. And think of all the good things—the miracle of finding your mother and father. Now you’re having Lee’s baby. And you’re so young yet, Lynda, and you are by God the prettiest girl in Texas, even if you are my sister. There will be someone else some day.”
She shook her head. “Never.”
“Never say never when your life has barely begun. Your son or daughter will need a father—and you’ll have needs that will wake up again some day.”
She reddened slightly, looking down at the biscuits. “Without the right man, the needs fade away. All I feel now is … I don’t know … anger, terrible sorrow.”
He pulled the cork from the wine. “The best way to relieve that is by sharing your feelings, not sitting up here all alone letting them fester.” He took a swallow. “Here.”
She took the bottle but wallowed only a sip, then handed it back.
“I’m hurting—we are all hurting,” he told her then. “Especially Father. He thinks he is responsible—thinks he should have gone after John alone. Can you imagine that? He is blaming himself, Lynda. And you aren’t helping things any. Lee was like a son to him, you know, and the only thing worse than losing a spouse is losing a child. I don’t have either one yet, but I can imagine. Why don’t you come down and join everybody again—show Father you are going to get over this. I’m really worried about him. I know you love him, Lynda. But right now you’re killing him. Can’t you see it?”
She looked at him as though surprised. “No, I … I thought Father was getting better.”
“Physically, maybe. But inside he is dying, Lynda.”
She looked away, staring at the house below. “I kept that blue quill necklace all through my childhood,” she said quietly, “trying to envision who owned it. When I first saw Father I felt like I had always known him. And he was so handsome—so wonderful.”
“Well, right now I think you need each other. I thought that first day we got back, when you turned to him, everything would be all right. But since then you’ve drawn up into your own lonely world. Come down and talk to him, Lynda; join the rest of us. If Father doesn’t get some of his spirit back soon, I am afraid he’ll just sit and shrivel up and die. We—”
He stopped, looking below to see a troop of Mexican soldiers riding in from the south. “Look there!”
Lynda leaned up to look. “Mexicans!”
“Come on.” Tom quickly picked up the wine and biscuits in one hand, taking her arm in the other. “Let’s get down to the house.”
Tom hurried her down while several of Caleb’s men moved in to surround the soldiers as they approached the house. Caleb came outside then, his left arm in a sling. He wore cotton pants and shirt, and his long hair was brushed and pulled back, tied into one tail. Sarah stayed inside with James, on Caleb’s orders, but John came out to stand beside his father.
The soldiers rode up close to the front of the Sax home, and Caleb eyed them warily. When these men had been badly needed, they had not come to help. Now they came on a peaceful morning, and Caleb suspected their mission was not to help the settlers.
The leader of the soldiers eyed Caleb in return, studying the sling, turning to glance over at the remains of the burned barn. He turned his dark eyes back to Caleb, curious over the fact that he was Indian.
“I am Teniente Leónes. I would like to see the owner of this place, señor. Would you get him?”
Caleb stepped forward. “You are looking at him.”
The man frowned. “But … you are Indian.”
“Half of me is. My name is Caleb Sax. And you’re a little late. A couple of months ago my place was raided by Comanche. Where is the protection the Mexican government promised us when we came here, Lieutenant?”
The soldier shifted in his saddle, his grand black horse tossing its head. “There are few of us for such a big land, señor. And you Americanos are acting very independent lately. Perhaps you think you do not need us anymore.”
“We’ve done nothing but ask for our rights as Mexican citizens, protection that was promised us. And what does your government do in return for our cooperation? You arrest a man who is very important to us—an innocent man who went to Mexico City in good faith to speak to Santa Anna. You don’t seem to try too hard to remain popular with the American settlers. If you don’t free Stephen Austin soon, there will be big trouble.”
The lieutenant scanned the group of Indians who stood around his men then. He moved his eyes back to Caleb. “You should tell your men to put down their guns, señor,” the man replied. “Or you are right—there will be trouble. Only it will not be between the citizens and my government. It will be trouble for you.”
“I’m used to trouble. Suppose you tell me just why you’re here.”
The Mexican nodded. “I am here at the bidding of our great general and presidente, Antonio López de Santa Anna, who has declared that all Americanos in the Province of Texas must give up their arms to him and promise there will be no more talk against the great country of Mexico, which has been kind to you by letting you come here to settle.”
Caleb’s men looked at each other, hanging on to their pistols and muskets. Tom and Lynda reached the house, where Tom hurried his sister inside through the back door. A moment later he came out the front door to join John in standing beside his father.
“Your kindness stopped when you began allowing men to rot in prison, and when you failed to give us the protection from Indians and outlaws that you promised, Lieutenant Leónes. Take your men and get off my land,” Caleb answered.
Leónes grinned a little. “Everywhere I go, señor, I find such answers. You Americanos are asking for much trouble—more trouble than any Indians or outlaws could give you. Santa Anna will not be happy with the things I have to tell him when we return.”
“I don’t give a damn how happy your presidente is! You picked a damned bad time to come, Lieutenant. The mood I’m in, it wouldn’t take much for me to order my men to shoot you right off that horse. This sling I wear is from a wound I received fighting Comanche, who killed my son-in-law. You go tell Santa Anna he’ll get no weapons from me or my men, and that he had better free Ste
phen Austin from prison, or he’s going to have some very angry Americans breathing down his neck!”
Leónes shook his head, while his men sat tensely on their horses. There were as many Sax men as there were soldiers, and none of them trusted the cockiness of the Americans. But Leónes remained confident.
“Why make things difficult for yourself,” he told Caleb. “It is so simple. You and your men turn over your arms. We will allow every third man to keep a handgun. We will not leave you completely defenseless.”
“Get out of here!” The words were shouted by Lynda, who surprised them all when she appeared at the corner of the house wielding a musket herself and aiming it directly at the lieutenant.
Caleb turned in surprise.
“Lynda!” Tom scowled at her.
“Put that gun away, Lynda,” Caleb ordered.
The lieutenant grinned. “She is a pretty one,” he sneered. “It would be a shame to have to shoot her.”
Lynda moved closer to her father. “Make them leave, Father, before I pull this trigger,” she sneered in return. “They’re at fault for what happened to Lee—not you—not even the Comanche! Make them leave before I kill the lieutenant!”
Leónes swallowed, losing his smile and thinking what he’d do to her if he were not surrounded by men with guns.
“I mean it, Father. I’ll kill him!”
Caleb smiled a little then, looking at Leónes. “You heard my daughter. You had better go, Lieutenant, or a war with Mexico will start right here. The Americans are doing everything they can to avoid that. Your president seems intent on making it happen.”
“No Sax man is going to give up his weapons,” Lynda sneered. “To give them up means death. I just lost my husband to Comanche, mister. You and your president are not going to leave us helpless!”
Tom stood with his hand on a gun at his side, while Sarah waited inside with a pounding heart. John glared at the soldiers, and Caleb straightened beside Lynda. “You go and tell Santa Anna that if he wants my weapons, he can come for them himself, and the only way he’ll get them then is over my dead body,” he told the lieutenant.
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