Frontier Fires

  Caleb had always had mixed feelings about Andrew Jackson, under whom he had fought at New Orleans. As both a fighting soldier and a leader, a man would have to go far to match “Old Hickory.” But the man seemed two-faced, calling the Indians friends on one hand and using them in war; then turning on them, as he was doing now with the Cherokee, giving them no support in their efforts to remain in Georgia. He was allowing Indians to literally be kicked out of their homelands all over the South so the whites could have their valuable land. Caleb wondered if Sam Houston was any different. Perhaps, He had lived with Cherokee—had a Cherokee wife, so people said. If this man became an important leader in Texas, perhaps it would mean hope for the Indians living there peacefully.

  “Santa Anna is just trying to bluff you right now,” Houston shouted then when the crowd finally quieted. “He wants us to march down to Mexico City and take Stephen Austin.”

  “Then let’s do it,” someone retorted.

  “No. You would be playing right into his hands. He wants you to make the first move, so that he can accuse the Americans of being the aggressors. He is hoping you will come, as well as hoping that when his soldiers come here and try to disarm you, one of you will fire on them, fight with them. We must remain calm, show Santa Anna and the world that we are not the aggressors, that our intentions are completely peaceful, that all we want are a few rights that would bring no harm to Mexico and would not necessitate a break from Mexico. The time may come when you have no choice but to fight, but the longer you hold out the better.”

  There was more shouting, but Tom paid little attention. He was too busy thinking about Bess Hafer. He liked the name. He scanned the crowd, looking for her, finally spotting her at the edge of the crowd surrounded by several men. He figured one of them must be her father. He was relieved to know she was so well protected, yet he wondered why he was so concerned about this girl he hardly knew.

  His height helped him see her past others. Bess in turn spotted his floppy leather hat and checkered shirt. He saw her pointing, and she pulled at an older man with a broad build. He scowled and held her back, seeming to admonish her for something. Tom could see the man meant for her to stay put for the moment, and it was difficult for him to keep from turning and staring at her whenever he could while the meeting continued for several more minutes. Houston managed finally to calm those in attendance and convince them they must continue to be peaceful and cooperative with the Mexicans for the time being, to show the Mexicans and the world that they were living up to their end of their agreement with Mexico.

  Tom looked down at Lynda as the crowd began to disburse. “How old is she?” he asked.

  Lynda grinned. “Who?”

  Tom scowled. “You know who.”

  “Bess?”

  “Come on, Lynda.”

  “Seventeen. Pretty, isn’t she?”

  Tom just grinned, moving his dark eyes over to where Bess stood to see the girl tugging at the big man again. They headed in Tom’s direction then, the bigger man looking slightly irritated for some reason. But as they came closer, he put on a pleasant look when Bess introduced them.

  “These are the Saxes, Father. This is Mister Caleb Sax, and this is his daughter, Lynda, who I told you about. This is Tom Sax. He’s the one who stopped that terrible man.”

  “Well, I guess I owe you a thanks, Mister Sax,” the man said to Tom, putting out his hand. “You did what my men should have been doing. They were outside and didn’t know anything was happening.”

  Tom shook his hand but did not feel the firmness of a man who was being truly friendly. “I was in another part of the store myself and happened to come back to check on my sister just then.”

  Hafer let go of his hand and turned to Caleb. “I’m Charles Hafer. Even without what happened earlier, I would have looked you up, Mister Sax. We’re neighbors now, you know. I had intentions of meeting you.”

  Caleb nodded, taking the man’s outstretched hand. “I didn’t know we were neighbors.” He studied Hafer’s brown eyes, which held a look that reminded Caleb of the way Sarah’s father used to look at him. His defenses were immediately awakened. “The last I knew, the land north of me was still unclaimed. That’s the only unclaimed area that borders me. I take it that’s the land we’re talking about.”

  Hafer let go of Caleb’s hand. “It is. I’ve settled several thousand acres just north and west of your place. I was hoping you would be at this meeting today. At any rate, I’ve come to Texas to sort of start over. Too many memories back home, what with my wife and son dead and all, plus I had a farm that was becoming worthless.”

  “I’m sorry about your family. Your daughter is very lovely, but it must be lonely here for her.” He looked at Lynda. “This is my own daughter, Lynda. I have another son, John. And my wife and I just recently had a baby boy. John is home tending to a favorite mare of his that is about to give us a new foal.”

  “Well, it sounds like you have quite a large family. And I hear you raise fine horses.”

  “I try to breed the best. I did have a lot more, before Comanche stole them a few weeks ago—took my son John, too.”

  Hafer’s eyebrows arched. “My God, man, what did you do?”

  “I went after the boy and got him back. But I couldn’t get the horses.”

  “You went after Comanche?” Hafer felt a twinge of apprehension. He had been sent here to harass this man, perhaps enough to make him leave Texas or even cost him his life. But Caleb Sax was not only a commanding man physically, he also was apparently the brave sort who did not back down easily. Few men went out on the trail of Comanche, no matter what the reason, and even fewer lived to tell about it. Even more than that, this Caleb Sax was bold and Hafer already sensed he was intelligent. He was different from any Indians he had known in Missouri.

  “I couldn’t let them keep my son. But we are deeply grieved because it cost the life of my son-in-law, Lynda’s husband.”

  Hafer looked at Lynda, but not with the genuine sympathy she had detected in his daughter. She liked Bess, but she already did not like the girl’s father. “I’m so sorry, ma’am,” he was saying, tipping his hat slightly.

  “Thank you,” Lynda answered, no more fooled by the man’s words than was Caleb, who also watched suspiciously.

  “Did you go with your father after the Comanche?” Bess asked Tom.

  He straightened more. “Yes,” he answered, angry that she was again making him feel awkward and uncomfortable. If only she weren’t so damned pretty.

  “But—you’re Indian, too.”

  “Not even another Indian carries much feeling for the Comanche. Even the Apache hate them. And Indian or not, we couldn’t let them have my brother.”

  “Oh, of course not—”

  “Bess, mind yourself,” Hafer told his daughter, irritation in his voice. “Don’t be so forward.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “But I’ve already met him, Father. Tom and Lynda both.”

  The man scowled at her, and neither Caleb nor Tom missed the real meaning behind the man’s irritation. He didn’t like his daughter associating with Indians. Hafer put on a smile and looked at Caleb. “As I said, I’m very sorry about what happened, Mister Sax. I hope the Comanche didn’t do too much damage to you financially. Are you getting along all right?”

  Caleb thought the question too probing. “I do fine.”

  “Well, my opinion is that down here in Texas the money eventually will be in cattle—and perhaps cotton. I intend to look into both. So, if you find any stray beef on your land, I’d appreciate it if you would send them hightailing back to my place.”

  Caleb held his eyes. “And you will do the same with my horses?”

  “Oh, certainly. Out here we will have to help each other out, right?”

  “Oh, Father, we should invite them to our barn raising,” Bess put in.

  Hafer reddened slightly, giving her a chastising look, angry that she had brought it up. But she was his daughter and knew nothing
of why they had come to Texas. Try as he might, he couldn’t make her understand about Indians. Even her brother’s death had not convinced her. Still, before he could go up against Caleb Sax, Hafer had to know the man better, and get a feel of his weak points, if indeed he had any. Perhaps it was a good idea to invite the Saxes to his barn raising.

  “Of course,” he answered. The last thing he wanted was to have Indians there, but the best way was to be friendly first. There would be several others there who were not fond of Indians. It would be a good way to hint to Caleb Sax that he was up against some power, so that when Hafer’s men moved in for the “kill,” Sax would understand he might as well give up without a fight. There was a lot of money in this venture. Hafer meant to win. “We’re having a barn raising next Saturday. You’re welcome to come, Sax—you and your family. God knows, in this territory people have little enough to celebrate; and all are starving for a chance to visit. Just bring a dish to pass, and be ready to do a little work.”

  Bess looked up at Tom again, her wide, dark eyes gleaming with hope. “Do say you’ll come,” she almost pleaded.

  For Tom there was no argument, and no reasoning about alternative motives. Elizabeth Hafer wanted him to come, which meant she wanted to get to know him better. He was not going to argue with that. “Sure we’ll come,” he told her.

  Now it was Caleb who gave his son a chastising look. Tom had not even given him a chance to answer, but considering the charming looks of Elizabeth Hafer, Caleb could hardly blame the young man. Still, he smelled danger as strongly as if someone were waving smoke up his nose.

  “Apparently my son has decided for me,” Caleb told Hafer.

  Lynda turned and looked up at Tom, nodding her head knowingly and making him smile bashfully. “Yes. Apparently he has,” she added.

  “And do bring Mrs. Sax,” Bess told Caleb. “I would love to see the baby.” She glanced again at Tom, a tiny smile at the corner of her mouth at the mention of the baby. Tom gave her his most winning smile in return. She seemed so genuinely sweet. He held her eyes, and for an instant, each read the other’s thoughts. It was the old, unexplainable, instant attraction—the magical drawing together of two spirits as though some being above was directing their emotions beyond their control.

  Hafer cast an irritated look at Tom Sax, struggling to control the sudden fear that gripped him. The handsome young Indian man! That was why Bess had spoken so suddenly about the barn raising. It wasn’t the women or the baby, or the incident in the supply store. His chest tightened with the dreadful thought that his daughter might become interested in an Indian—a Sax, no less. That would present monumental problems to his plans. He quickly tore his eyes from Tom, but not soon enough to keep Caleb from reading his very thoughts. Again, Hafer put on the friendly smile.

  “Well, this wild meeting is no place to talk. We’ll look forward to seeing you next Saturday,” he told Caleb.

  Caleb nodded. “I look forward to it also.” Yes, he thought, it would be a good chance to see what this man Hafer was all about. He wanted to get an idea of his spread, how many men he had, and all the other things which, Caleb had a feeling, might be important to know later on.

  “Mister Hafer, there’s a feed supplier over here wants to talk to you,” said a young man just approaching. He had thick, sandy hair, sky blue eyes, and skin tanned deep by the Texas sun. He was perhaps five foot ten, broad-shouldered, and rock hard, walking with slightly bowed legs. He had the look of a man who lived outdoors more than inside, and Lynda was surprised and angry with herself to realize she was slightly taken by his rugged, handsome looks.

  “Thank you, Jess.” Hafer nodded to Caleb. “See you in a few days. Glad to meet you, Sax.”

  Caleb nodded. “Sure. Same here.”

  Hafer turned, taking his daughter’s arm and hurrying her away. The man called Jess lingered a moment, pushing back his hat and flashing a brilliant smile at Lynda, who immediately caught his eye with her voluptuous looks. “Jess Purnell,” he spoke up. He eyed them all then. “I work for Mister Hafer.” His eyes moved to Lynda again. “Might I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”

  Lynda stiffened, reading the man’s look but too full of Lee to feel comfortable. “Lynda Sax.”

  Purnell glanced at Tom. “This your husband?”

  “I’m her brother,” Tom spoke up defensively. “And you can save your fancy smile, mister. My sister is recently widowed.”

  Purnell frowned, his gentle blue eyes showing genuine concern. “I’m very sorry, ma’am. Excuse my rudeness.”

  Lynda wanted to be angry, but his eyes unnerved her. “It’s all right,” she answered. “You couldn’t have known.”

  “Have you worked for Hafer long?” Caleb spoke up.

  Purnell shrugged. “He hasn’t been in Texas very long.”

  “What kind of man is he?”

  Purnell stole one more appreciative look at Lynda, then looked back at Caleb. “Seems fair. He’s okay, I guess. I just take orders and get paid better than most. Nothing to complain about. I’m sort of a roamer. I’ve helped work a lot of ranches—go where the money is—hope to have a place of my own some day.”

  Caleb nodded. “We’ll see you next Saturday, I suppose. We’re coming to the barn raising.”

  Purnell grinned. “Good.” He put out his hand. “Till then.”

  Caleb took the hand and shook it firmly. Purnell returned the firm hold, as though to try to assure Caleb he was a decent person.

  “I didn’t mean to offend your daughter, Mister Sax.”

  Caleb managed a grin then. “I’m sure you didn’t.”

  Purnell looked at Lynda again and nodded. “Good day, ma’am.”

  Lynda only nodded in reply. She could appreciate his wonderful looks and genuine apology. He seemed a nice man but surely unstable if he was such a roamer. But nothing about him could stir her as he apparently had hoped. Right now the most handsome man in the world could not stir her. All she wanted was Lee—her precious, loving, devoted Lee.

  “I have a feeling Saturday will be an interesting day,” Caleb spoke up, watching Hafer in the distance. “Let’s go get those supplies.”

  As they left, Tom’s thoughts were whirling, not with thoughts of a war, the Comanche, or buying supplies, but with thoughts of a pretty girl with dark hair and eyes and a wonderfully enticing shape. He glanced back to get one more look at Bess Hafer, but she was gone.

  Chapter

  Eight

  * * *

  Caleb watched Tom rope the wild mustang and bring the spotted horse under control. The broad-shouldered stallion with its strong back and perfect lines would make a good stud horse, but Caleb could already see that it would not be easy keeping this one corralled. He took off his hat and waved it as a signal of a job well done. Tom dismounted, the rope tied to the pommel of his saddle, and followed the rope to the whinnying, rearing animal. Its eyes were wide and wild, and it snorted and tugged as Tom came closer.

  Caleb rode down, his old instincts of being overprotective of his firstborn still with him. He knew Tom really needed no help. His son was good with horses and had been riding since a small boy.

  “Be careful,” he called out as Tom came closer to the animal. He moved his own Appaloosa closer, holding the reins loosely in one hand. Caleb Sax needed hardly more than his legs and gentle commands to handle a horse. He used only the small, stuffed hide saddle that most Indians used, except on days when there was considerable roundup work to do and pommels and other gear came in handy. His Appaloosa gelding snorted and pranced as it came closer to the wild, spotted brown horse that Tom now spoke to softly. The young man held the rope in one hand and carefully reached out, petting the wild horse’s nose.

  Caleb patted his horse’s neck to soothe the animal before dismounting and dropping the reins. The animal bent its head to nibble at scrubby, yellow grass, while Caleb slowly approached Tom.

  “He’s a good one,” Tom said quietly, sensing his father was close behind him. �
�He’ll make a good stud.”

  Caleb slowly walked around the animal, studying its power and the shine of its coat. It was a lovely sand color, dotted with black, white, and brown, with a white mane. “He’s wonderful,” Caleb said.

  “I told you. I knew I’d find him again. It took three days and nights of camping out here, but he finally came along.”

  Caleb nodded. “You’ve got a hell of an eye, Tom. He’ll sure be a help in replenishing the herd.”

  Tom grinned, still getting a boyish satisfaction out of pleasing his father. “That is what I figured.” The animal suddenly reared and whinnied, but Tom kept hold of the rope and spoke to the animal again. “Now I can really enjoy myself at the barn raising Saturday,” he said then, “knowing I finally found this one.” He moved back along the rope toward his own horse. “We’ll let him stand there and get used to our smell for a few minutes before I try to get him to go back with us.”

  Caleb nodded, taking a tobacco pouch from his belt and a pipe from the parfleche on his own horse. “You’re really looking forward to Saturday, aren’t you?”

  Tom grinned. “Sure I am. I’ll get to see Bess Hafer again. I’ve never seen a girl that pretty in my whole life.”

  There was a moment of silence while Caleb stuffed the pipe. “She’s also white,” he told the boy carefully.

  Tom took his eyes from the mustang and faced his father in surprise. “So?”

  Their eyes held. “You met her father. I know his kind, Tom, too well. And I know the hurt going against his kind can bring.” Caleb kept his eyes on his son as he raised the pipe and lit it. His jaw flexed as he puffed on it several times to get it burning.

  Tom smiled nervously. “It wouldn’t be that bad. It’s different here. We own land. We have money. We live like everybody else.”

  “We’re Indian.”

  “So what? We live just like they do.”

  Caleb lowered the pipe. “Men like Hafer don’t give a damn about that,” he answered. “It doesn’t matter if you’re worth a million dollars, Tom. You’re Indian. That’s all men like that see. You saw how he acted. He doesn’t want his daughter talking to us, associating with us. He wouldn’t even have invited us to that barn raising if Bess hadn’t spoken first.”