They all laughed and Tom was glad it was dark. He pulled out his moccasins and went out the door.
Rosy cooked for the hired help who had no families. The men who had families lived in their own cabins on another section of Sax land. But to those single men in the bunkhouse, Rosy sometimes served more needs than their hunger for food …. She would let Tom in. Rosy always let Tom in.
The next morning Tom rode with Caleb and several others to Blue Valley, Caleb’s favorite spot on his land. He had named the place Blue Valley because of the blue look to it at dusk. It was actually green, greener than any other spot in what was mostly a land of browns and yellows. The green came from a stream that was fed by the Brazos River about ten miles north of the valley, its beginning actually not even on Sax land. That had never bothered Caleb before, but it did now. The beginnings of the tributary were now on Hafer land. The stream drifted south into Blue Valley, creating soft ground and wonderful grass for grazing horses. It was a natural feeding area, and Caleb kept several men camped there on shifts constantly to guard some of the finest horses in Texas from Comanche raids.
Caleb slowed his horse, letting the others go by and signaling for Tom to slow up with him.
“We’ll cut out a couple of those roan mares,” he told Tom. “I want to mate them with Apache and Painter. Those two are itching for a female, and I think those two mares mated with them would produce some damned strong horses.”
Tom nodded. “I agree.”
Caleb took off his hat and wiped perspiration. “You care to tell me what happened with that Hafer girl?”
They rode slowly to talk. Tom shrugged. “Nothing special.”
Caleb turned to look at him, seeing hidden feelings. “If it was nothing special, why did you feel you had to go visit Rosy last night?”
Tom looked at him in surprise, then turned away. “How did you know?”
“Men talk. They like to joke about it.”
Tom sighed with irritation.
“They like to rib you a little, that’s all,” Caleb added. “God knows they’ve probably all had a turn at Rosy.”
Tom grinned a little then. “She likes me best.”
Caleb laughed lightly. “Come on now. What about Bess Hafer? That’s why you went. I have been around a long time, remember? You can’t fool your father.”
Tom sobered. “All right. I like her a lot. She walked with me. We talked. We didn’t have a lot of time, but enough for me to know she’s easy to talk to; and she’s nice—and beautiful—and untouched. But it was just as you said. When we came back her father was waiting, and if looks could kill, I would be a dead man. I never saw her the next morning, and I think I know why. I decided last night that even though I promised her I would come and see her again, I had better not. Maybe if I don’t go and she gets mad, it will be easier on her.”
They rode along quietly for a moment. “Do you really think you can stay away, Tom?”
“I have to. I love you too much. It’s not like giving up a woman with whom I’ve fallen madly in love and have already had an affair, or someone I have always known like you knew Sarah. And I could see by Hafer’s eyes that if I tried to see her there would be trouble. I don’t want to make trouble for you, Father. I thought it would be easy, but after learning why Hafer hates Indians …” He halted his horse. “I might as well tell you you were more right than you know about Hafer.”
Caleb drew up beside him. “How’s that?”
Tom met the man’s eyes. “I didn’t say anything on the way home because of Sarah. You know how she worries about everything.”
Caleb smiled softly. “I appreciate that. What is so terrible that you didn’t want to tell me in front of her? She sensed Hafer’s feelings toward Indians as much as I did. That wouldn’t surprise her.”
Tom hated having to tell him, but it was important his father be alerted to everything. “Hafer had a son, Father. He was killed a couple of years ago back in Missouri—supposedly by Osage Indians. At least that’s who was blamed.”
Caleb’s gentle smile turned to a look of grim concern. “A son!”
Tom nodded. He turned his eyes to gaze at the distant mountains, telling the man everything Bess had told him about her brother. “Bess was the only one who believed the Osages’ innocence.”
Caleb shook his head and sighed deeply, suddenly sounding and looking weary. “Damn,” he muttered. “This all looks bad, Tom. Not just you and Bess.”
Tom turned to meet the man’s eyes again. “I know. It leaves a lot of questions: why Hafer didn’t say anything right away, why he tried to act friendly at first, and why he bothered to invite us at all to that barn raising. The way Bess talks, he hates all Indians.”
“Lord knows I’m well aware of what it feels like to lose a son. But I’d never judge all men by those who killed him. Hafer was an Indian hater before his son was ever killed.” He crooked one leg over the top of his horse, hooking it around the pommel of his saddle. “There’s something not quite right about any of this, Tom, but I can’t figure it. I talked to one of Hafer’s men—that Jess Purnell. He says nobody is quite sure how Hafer got his money. He thinks somebody is backing the man—some investor who is looking at the possible value of Texas land. That could mean whoever it is thinks some day land belonging to Indians will be up for bids.”
“Not our land! They’ll never get our land!”
Caleb looked back at him. “Don’t be too sure, Tom. You still don’t understand just what lengths whites will go to get what they want. You should have some idea from all the Cherokee who have been filtering in from the South.” He put his hat back on. “At any rate, this is all very strange. Hafer is from the St. Louis area. There are a lot of land hawkers, investors, bankers in that—” He stopped short, a look of sudden knowledge moving through his eyes, followed by hatred.
“What is it, Father?”
Clawson. Byron Clawson. Could it have anything to do with him? That was impossible. Too many years had gone by, and Clawson wouldn’t dream of crossing him. Still, before Sarah had left for Texas, Clawson had threatened her against telling anyone about their failure of a marriage—a tale that would certainly taint his public image. But surely he knew if he crossed Caleb Sax again he was risking his life.
“Never mind,” Caleb answered aloud. “I think I’m making something out of nothing. Maybe Hafer isn’t up to anything in particular. But I find that hard to believe. At any rate, whatever it is, Bess apparently is too innocent to figure it all out. She must be a pretty confused and lonely little girl. It’s obvious that she, at least, is untouched by all her father’s hatred and prejudice, which brings me to my next question. You be honest, Tom. How do you really feel about the girl, aside from not wanting to make trouble for me?”
Tom held his eyes. “She’s wonderful. When I’m around her I feel … I don’t know … not like I ever felt around any other girl.” He looked out over the valley. “I mean, she’s too important to touch or kiss without feelings and respect. A man could never bed that one and just walk away from her.”
Caleb smiled in understanding. “And you really think you can forget her?”
Tom shrugged. “I thought you would want me to.”
“All I want is your happiness, Tom.” The boy looked back at him as he spoke. “I just wanted to protect you from the hurt I know loving a girl like Bess can bring, not just to you, but to her, too. And I also want you to be sure. I don’t want you blaming me a couple of years from now if Bess Hafer is gone or married. I appreciate your not wanting to stir up trouble, but I have had plenty of that before and I can handle it. You’re free to go wherever your heart leads you and free to see her more if you want. I wouldn’t be angry, but I would be damned worried.”
Tom sighed deeply. “You have enough worries. I won’t give you any more for a while. I’m going to give it some time. Maybe after awhile the feelings will go away.”
“The feelings you tried to get rid of last night through Rosy?”
Tom laughed. “Yes. Those feelings. But much more than that.”
“I know what you mean. And I think you have a problem, Tom Sax.”
“It will go away. Right now my biggest problem is to beat you to Split Rock up ahead.” He whipped his horse into a gallop and Caleb charged after him.
Three months passed and Bess moved into the stone house. To her it seemed more like a stone prison. How could a person live in such a big land and still feel so confined? Just a day’s ride south to Sax land—and Tom Sax. Why hadn’t he come back? Did he know how terribly her father had spoken to her after the barn raising? Did he know how ugly her father had made her walk with Tom sound, how bad the man had made her feel, how he had forbidden her to ever set eyes on Tom Sax again? Surely he did, for she had not even been allowed to come out the next morning to say good-bye to anyone.
“I’ve never been so ashamed in my life,” he’d told her. “And in front of all those women! You know how women gossip! I didn’t bring you here for that, Elizabeth Anne Hafer. Your mother would turn over in her grave if she knew. And your brother!” He stormed up and down the room. “I ought to send you back to St. Louis right this minute! What’s got into you? Are you that lonely? Do you want me to bring in some other families? And look at all the other young men around here. You could have your choice of any of them, except for the fact that you’re too young for any of them—white or Indian—and too damned good for them, too. You’ll marry better than any of that scum out there.”
On and on he had raged. “Why do you talk of marriage?” she had sobbed. “I took a walk with him. That isn’t exactly something to compare to marriage.”
“You wouldn’t have walked with him if you weren’t interested. If you’re going to get to know them, why didn’t you pick his sister or his mother? Anything but an Indian man!”
He had broken her down into sobs, mixing her up, breaking her heart. He had always been a blustery, overbearing man, but since selling their farm he had taken on an arrogance that made him more a stranger than her father. Where was her father getting so much money? It seemed to be more than her brother’s death that bothered him; more, even, than her walking with Tom Sax, as though she was spoiling some grand plan he had for his new land. The stone house was finished. It was much cooler than the old cabin, and finer than anything they ever had at home. It even had a second floor, with two bedrooms there, and a kitchen and very large living area below. It seemed a waste somehow, for no one came to visit. It was as though Charles Hafer built it simply to flaunt his sudden wealth.
She sat down in a rocker on the front porch, staring to the south, toward Sax land. They were a real family. It was so obvious. Perhaps they also found little time to visit, but at least they had each other. Her heart hurt so bad she rubbed her chest. It all seemed so hopeless. Between her father’s hatred of Indians and his new wealth, he would never let her see Tom again.
Bess pulled a sweater close around her against the early morning chill, surprised it could actually get cold in Texas. Some of the men even said snow might come soon. Her mother had knitted the sweater for her, so long ago. She missed her mother terribly, longed for her companionship.
But most of all she longed for Tom Sax. Surely he knew her father’s feelings and that was why he hadn’t come back as she had hoped. Maybe he was even still angry over what she had said to him about her father’s opinion of Indians. It embarrassed her, and never had she felt so alone and lonely. She could not stop thinking about him, dreaming about him. She could not forget the touch of his lips on her cheek, his hand so gentle on her face. He was so utterly handsome—beautiful was a better word for it … so strong and brave and skilled. How many times had she dreamed about being kissed by him—really kissed—on the lips? Her heart surged with jealousy at the wonder of how many other girls he might be interested in. She wanted to be the special one—the only one.
Perhaps he was only staying away to avoid trouble, or perhaps he thought she didn’t care because she had never come out to say good-bye. If there were only a way she could see him again. She would tell him she did care, that it was all her father’s fault she did not come out that morning.
One of the hired hands rode by, halting his horse in front of her and looking her over. “Mornin’, Miss Hafer. Your pa around?”
“Not right now, Stu.”
Stu was handsome in his own way but never seemed to be able to keep himself shaved.
He grinned. “Long as he’s gone, there anything I can do for you, little girl? All of us are ready to help you out any time you need it.”
The idea entered her mind quickly, unexpectedly. Her father had become so stern and quiet around her that the hurt he had brought her only made her more determined to prove him wrong, and more determined to have her own way. If nothing else, it would be a great adventure—better than sitting here hour after hour with nothing to do and no one to talk to.
“Now that you mention it, I’ve been wanting to visit Sarah and Lynda Sax,” she told the man. “Father says he doesn’t mind,” she lied. “But he says all you men are too busy to accompany me. As long as Father is gone—he’s at another ranch trying to make a deal for some winter feed—maybe you and some of the others could take me to the Saxes. I’m so bored and lonely. I’m sure Father wouldn’t mind.”
Stu frowned. “You sure? The Saxes are Indians.”
“I know. But they’re very nice, and Father doesn’t mind my making friends with the women, especially Mrs. Sax. She’s white, and a very fine woman. I’d love to go visiting before the weather gets any colder.”
The man looked her over. The way he’d heard it, Charles Hafer was off studying the water supply on Sax land, not seeing about feed. If possible, he would cut that supply. There had been no rain for six weeks, and this was the dry season anyway. For some reason Charles Hafer wanted to make it even dryer for Caleb Sax. Stu didn’t mind helping out. He had no use for Indians.
“I could lose my job if your father doesn’t approve, missy.”
“Oh, but I wouldn’t lie to you, Stu.”
He looked her over. Maybe it was worth the risk. In fact, if he got her far enough away, he could even have at her and get away before either of them was ever found. By the time she was found, the first ones to be blamed would be the Saxes. Everyone figured Indians good for rape and murder. This could work out just fine—and having a turn at the beautiful young Elizabeth Hafer was worth leaving his job with her father, even if the man did pay him well. He would just move on to the next job afterward.
“All right, missy. I’ll take you. I’ll go saddle a horse for you. Just be sure to dress warm.”
“Oh, thank you, Stu!” She jumped up from her chair. “Just give me a minute to change.”
He watched after her. “Sure,” he answered with a grin. “I’ll wait. It’s early enough that if we don’t waste time I can get you there by dusk, long as we ride horses and don’t take a wagon. You can stay over a night or two and then I’ll bring you back. Be sure to leave your father a note.”
“I will.” She went inside. She wouldn’t really leave a note. Her father would be furious, but if she left a note, he would come for her right away, and Bess wanted some time to visit. If she kept him guessing … She shivered. Perhaps this was all wrong, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was to get away from the stone house … and to see Tom Sax.
Chapter
Eleven
* * *
Tom sat alone on the ridge above Blue Valley, looking out at the vast and seemingly endless stretch of Texas flatland that was spread out before him to the north. Try as he might, he had not been able to forget about Bess. He had found all kinds of excuses to come to the Valley to help out the Cherokee there who tended the horses, but his real reason was always to ride on and try to see Bess.
But always he changed his mind. He had told his father he would not go and had stuck to his word, even though Caleb had told him it was all right. Too many things were happening now to give his fa
ther problems. There had been some skirmishes between Americans and Mexicans; and Sam Houston was talking of forming a stronger militia. There had been a drought in Texas and Blue Valley was about the only truly good grazing spot left on Sax land. Lynda’s stomach had suddenly blossomed huge and she was still sick a lot. She could deliver any time. And little James, close to six months old now, had just got over a bad fever. It seemed there were so many things to think about, so many dangers lurking, not the least of which was the continuing threat of Comanche raids. How could he add to the family problems by bringing Bess into the picture?
He shivered against a chilly late November wind, wondering if he should take his wool jacket from his bedroll and put it on. He smelled snow in the air, and dark clouds hung in the west. He decided against the jacket for the moment and moved his horse down the ridge and through the valley up the other side, where he could gaze across the flat land to the north.
Hafer’s land was out there, but the endless horizon all looked the same from where he sat, especially at dusk. It was strange how such vast expanses of land could trick the eye. Sometimes things seemed to be moving that were not, and things moving were actually stationary. Now he watched two objects that seemed to be moving. At first he figured them to be two rocks, or perhaps cacti that only looked to be moving because of the shifting winds or odd movements of sand. But after several minutes of watching them, he realized what he saw were two figures riding toward Sax land.
He continued to watch curiously, for they seemed to be riding hard. As always in this land, it seemed to take forever for them to get closer. What looked like two miles could be twenty. But finally he could see them better. The horse in front was slowing, surely overheated by now, in spite of the cold air. No horse should be ridden so hard for such a distance. Was someone coming to warn them of some kind of danger?
He eased his horse down the slope, working his way around rocks and heading down a sandy escarpment. Tom let his skilled palomino find its own way while he kept his eyes on the two riders. His keen eye soon deciphered that the one in front was a woman. His heart quickened. What woman could be coming from the north, except perhaps Elizabeth Hafer?
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