Neither rider had seen him yet. The one behind the woman seemed intent on catching up to her, but the woman apparently was a good rider. Suddenly there was a gunshot and the horse in front stumbled and fell. The woman screamed and landed hard, tumbling away from the animal, which kicked out for a few seconds before lying still. The second rider reached the woman and dismounted. The woman got up and started to run, but the man tackled her down and hit her.
Tom turned his stallion into a hard gallop. He took out his pistol from his belt and fired it once into the air. The man the woman was struggling with jumped up and looked around. Tom let out a war whoop and rode right toward them. The man ran for his horse, grabbing his flintlock and aiming it. Tom ducked to the left side of his horse, hanging from it in the way Indians did when dodging bullets. The palomino kept up its hard run as a shot went off but missed. The man started desperately reloading, but Tom brought his stallion to a tearing halt, jumping down and pulling his own flintlock from its boot, but the gun jammed on him.
The man got off another shot, barely missing Tom, and the girl screamed his name. Tom turned to see Bess standing there, her dress torn, her hair tumbling down from its original bun. Tom quickly pieced together what was happening, and he pulled a knife, holding it out toward the man and crouching.
“I wouldn’t try to reload if I were you,” he warned. “I’d just get on my horse and ride out of here.”
The man fidgeted with his rifle, then threw it down with a curse. He met Tom’s eyes. “Get the hell out of here, Indian! You’ve got no business here!”
“You’re on Sax land, mister. I’ve got every right to be here! And you’re trespassing. Now get going!”
The man glanced at Bess. He had not counted on her being such a good rider, nor on her being so ungrateful. If she’d have let him have his way, she’d have discovered soon enough the fun he could have shown her. This was not how he had planned it at all. He looked back at Tom.
“Look, Indian, why miss out on a good chance? Put the knife away and we can both have at her. Wouldn’t you like to get inside a white girl, especially one as pretty as that one? Why fight when you could be havin’ a good time with that pretty girl?”
Elizabeth broke into sobs.
“This is my last warning, mister,” Tom growled. “Get going before I kill you!”
Stu Clements was not about to be outdone in front of Elizabeth Hafer, especially not by an Indian. He pulled out a hunting knife he wore tied to the side of his leg. “Like hell I will, you red-skinned bastard! I was guttin’ and skinnin’ men with this thing while you were still pissin’ in your cradleboard!” He waved the knife and Tom came closer. “You’d better think twice, Indian,” Stu warned. “We could take turns and say Comanche did it. But if you kill me, they’ll say you stole that girl and killed me for her. You’ll hang, boy!”
“They’ll know the truth—from her!”
“No they won’t—because you’ll rape and kill her. I know what Indians do!”
“It’s white men who understand raping and killing! You were going to do the same.”
Stu lunged at Tom, who darted back. Bess whimpered and watched, her heart pounding with fear for Tom. Stu lunged again, but Tom was quick. He grasped the man’s wrist with his left hand, pushing upward with a powerful arm while Stu in turn managed to get hold of Tom’s right arm, trying to push it down and back. They struggled muscle to muscle for a few seconds until Tom managed to swing a foot around and catch Stu behind the ankle. He jerked his foot hard, causing the man to fall onto his back. Stu’s knife went flying and Tom leaped on top of him.
Dirt and rocks tore their clothes as they rolled on the ground. Stu kept a firm hold on Tom’s wrist with both hands and dust billowed around them as the two men scrambled and wrestled. Tom finally managed to get a firm hold of Stu’s throat then with his left hand, pressing hard and squeezing until the man began to choke and turn beet red. Stu let go of Tom’s knife hand in order to pry Tom’s left arm, but his energy was spent from lack of air. Tom pressed his knife near the man’s eye.
“Now you will go,” he sneered. “Or I will cut out your eye!”
Stu lay there panting. “I’ll go,” he muttered.
Tom slowly moved off the man, his buckskins scraped, one arm bleeding where his shirt had torn and rocks cut into it. His dark eyes gleamed with a desire to kill. Stu slowly got up, grabbing a fistful of sand and rocks when Tom glanced over at Bess. When Tom looked back Stu flung the pebbles in Tom’s face. Tom bent over, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes, and Stu lunged for his own knife.
“Tom, look out,” Bess screamed.
Tom could see only a blur coming at him. He dove for the ground, rolling away and coming to his feet again, his eyes clearing slightly. Stu came at him then, slashing with his blade, catching Tom just lightly across the belly. Tom kept backing up, blinking, waiting for the right moment. Stu made a lunge with his knife then and Tom caught his arm, quickly turning so that Stu was behind him and yanking the man’s arm over his shoulder, then hoisting him, flipping him over his head to land hard on the ground in front of him. He made no hesitation then. The man had been warned. Tom’s knife came down hard, scraping into Stu Clements’s chest and piercing the heart. Blood spurted onto Tom, and Bess turned away in horror, feeling sick.
Tom yanked out the knife with a sneer, wiping the blade on Clements before putting it back in its sheath on his belt. He stood there bent over the man a moment, panting, still shaking sand from his eyes and hair. He turned then, stumbling to his horse and canteen, opening the canteen and pouring some of the water over his face. He waited another moment, breathing deeply to regain his composure before walking over to where Bess stood, still turned away.
“He is dead,” he told her. “Here.” He held out the canteen. “Do you need some water?”
She only sniffled. He put a hand on her shoulder. “How bad did he hurt you?”
She wiped her eyes with a trembling hand. “He tried … to attack me. I got to my horse … and just started riding this way … hoping I’d find people … anyone.”
He gently stroked her hair, pulling out the scarf that had held it and running his fingers through its long tresses. He knew already that this time there would be no forgetting. He had seen her again, and worse, he had felt rage at the thought of her pursuer hurting her, perhaps raping her.
“I will take you to our home and my mother and sister can help you clean up. I can’t take you back to your father, Bess, not this way … not alone. God only knows what they’ll accuse me of. We’ll have to clean you up and take you back with some extra men. Besides, it would be too dangerous for me to take you back alone.” He ran a hand over her shoulders. “I am sorry you had to see me kill him. I had no choice. What the hell were you doing out here anyway?”
“I … hired him … to ride me here so I could see you,” she sniffed, shivering then from the wind.
His heart filled with love and sorrow and he gently turned her, taking her chin and forcing her to look up at him. He felt torn at the dirty and bruised face. “Me? You rode through dangerous country with only one man for a guard, just to see me?”
Tears traced over her cheeks. “Why didn’t you come back to see me? You promised you would.”
He frowned, realizing just how young and trusting she was. “Bess, considering the circumstances, I thought it best—”
“You broke your promise. You said you liked me. You said we were friends. You said I could come here and visit. Tom, I’m so lonely. I hate it there. I feel like I’m going crazy. And most of all I missed you.”
He sighed, drawing her close. Desires pulsed through her at his embrace. “You stupid girl. Why didn’t you send me a message or something? You shouldn’t have tried to come yourself. If Comanche had ever spotted you—” He hugged her tighter. “I don’t think you even know what a brave thing you did. Young women don’t go into this country with just one man to watch out for them, Bess. Come on. I’ll take you to the house.�
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He led her toward his horse. “What about Stu?” she asked.
“Is that his name?”
“Stu Clements.”
Tom looked at him and sneered. “Let the buzzards have him. He deserves no burial for what he was going to do to you.” He lifted her then, easily, as though she weighed nothing. “Your horse is dead and his has run off. You can ride in front of me on my horse.” He took his wool coat from his gear, then eased up behind her, draping the jacket around her shoulders. She turned to look into his dark eyes.
“Tom, you’re hurt. He cut you.”
He looked down at himself, putting a hand to the blood. “Not deep. My stepmother will take care of it. First I have to get you off this flatland and closer to places where we will be safer.”
She was so close—right there—inches from him. And she did not turn away. “I’m afraid I have to tell you I’m damned glad to see you, Bess. You have been on my mind every hour of every day.” He lightly met her lips and she let him, shivering when his tongue gently traced the corners of her mouth. He pulled back suddenly then, as though hit by a quick pain. She supposed it was his wound, too innocent to realize it was for him something much more painful. He leaned over her then, enveloping her in his arms as he picked up the reins of his horse, then kept one arm around her tightly as he rode off toward home.
Sarah bathed Bess’s face while Caleb paced nervously, and Tom removed his shirt so Lynda could wash the wound on his abdomen. It was well after dark when they arrived at Caleb’s house. Caleb’s shock had quickly turned to near panic.
“You could be in a lot of trouble, Tom, a lot of trouble,” Caleb fumed. “Couldn’t you have just wounded him? Don’t you remember what Hafer did to those Osage boys?”
“What would you have done,” the boy retorted. “If a man hurt Sarah and then tried to kill you, what would you have done?”
Caleb met Sarah’s eyes, then ran a hand over tired eyes. “I would have done the same damned thing.”
“This is all my fault,” Bess sobbed. “I just … wanted to go visiting. I didn’t know what that man would do. I didn’t mean to get anybody in trouble.” The words were squeaked through tears.
“It’s all right, Bess,” Sarah soothed. “That man took advantage of you. You couldn’t help it.” She looked at Caleb. “I’m sure once Bess explains it will be all right.”
“An Indian killing a white man—and one of Hafer’s men no less?” Caleb let out a disgusted sigh. “They won’t care about why it happened.”
“We’ll go over there with most of our men,” Tom put in, wincing as Lynda splashed whiskey on his cut. Bess watched, totally in awe of Tom Sax now. He was her hero. He could have been killed. Now he stood there shirtless, wearing only buckskin pants and moccasins. His stomach was muscled and lean, and she reddened when she realized she was staring at a dark-skinned, shirtless man and remembering his kiss. She looked down, hoping no one had noticed. “We’ll ride there with plenty of protection and we will tell them the truth. Hafer can’t do anything if we go over there willingly and take Bess with us so she can tell them the truth.”
“I don’t want to go back,” the girl sniffled. “I never asked Father. He’ll be furious. He’ll send me back to St. Louis!”
Tom’s heart quickened at the thought. He didn’t want her to go, ever.
“We have no choice,” Caleb spoke up. “If we don’t take you back, they’ll say we attacked you both, killed Clements and stole you away. It’s impossible to keep you here.”
“I’ve made a mess of everything. None of you will ever want to call me friend again,” Bess sobbed. “What will I do if something happens to Tom?”
Sarah pulled the girl close in a motherly way, so that Bess’s head rested against Sarah’s stomach. Sarah stroked her hair. “Nothing is going to happen to Tom,” she said firmly, watching her husband, knowing his agony. “You are all going to do like Tom said and ride over there in force and tell the truth.”
“Except that I’ll say I killed the man—not Tom,” Caleb spoke up.
The room quieted and they all looked at him.
“No,” Tom spoke up, moving away from Lynda before she was through. “You can’t do that.”
“I can do whatever I please when it means protecting my son! You’re the one Hafer would just as soon hang if he had a good enough excuse. You’re the one who has shown an interest in his daughter.”
Bess reddened and closed her eyes.
“If I say I went to Bess’s aid and killed Clements, it will be better accepted than if they know it was you,” Caleb said in a determined voice. “They might say you did it on purpose, out of jealousy or something. We’ll go over there and we’ll take Bess back, but under my terms. I will have no arguments about it!”
Tom swallowed back a lump in his throat. “I can’t let another man take the blame for something I did, especially not my own father!”
“You have no choice in the matter. In fact, you aren’t even going. They might see your bruises and cuts. If they ask about you, I’ll say you weren’t even around through any of this. You were at the Handels. I can get Wil Handel to vouch for that. He’ll understand.”
“Father, you can’t—”
“No arguments! I’ll go with several other men, and Bess can explain what happened. The only way Hafer will be really furious is if he sees your face. Then he’ll know the truth just by looking at you. Without you there’s a chance we can get away with this. Nobody here is going to get arrested and sit in a Mexican prison for six months before getting a hearing! Stu Clements got what he deserved. Surely some of Hafer’s men know the man wasn’t trustworthy. But I want you completely left out of the matter.”
“I’ll go with you,” Sarah spoke up.
Caleb looked at her with a frown. “You’ll do no such thing. Who knows what Hafer will do? They might shoot at us as we come in, for all I know.”
“I am going with you and this time I am the one who will have no arguments. I can testify as to the condition of Bess when she came here, and a show of friendship between myself and Bess will only prove none of this could have had anything to do with us. Bess wouldn’t befriend someone who tried to hurt her. And maybe the presence of a woman—and, I’m sorry to add, a white woman—will help keep the entire situation calm.”
“I could go, too,” Lynda spoke up.
“No,” Sarah told her. “You’ve been too sick, and we should ride horses so we can get there more quickly. You stay here and watch after James. Feed him on cow’s milk until I return. Tom, you stay with Lynda.”
“Don’t take me yet,” Bess begged. “I’m so tired. I have to get my composure so I can lie about Mister Sax.”
Sarah let go of her. “We certainly can’t start tonight. We’ll leave first thing in the morning. If we ride horses we’ll get there before dark. I’ll fix you a bowl of soup, Bess. I just made it fresh this morning. You eat some and rest for a while.” She held Caleb’s eyes as she spoke. “All of you will rest tonight and get your stories straight.”
Tom sighed and strode over to the wall where some of his clothes hung on a hook. He took down another buckskin shirt. His savage-like presence filled the room, and made him seem even bigger to Bess.
“I’m not through dressing that wound,” Lynda told him.
“It’s all right. It will heal,” he muttered. He looked at his father again, almost pleadingly. “I’m sorry, Father. I told you I didn’t want to bring trouble. It just happened. But you should let me go myself.”
“I can’t let you do it. I killed the man. You might as well all start thinking that way right now. I’ll tell my men the same story.” He looked at Sarah again, wanting to scold her, tell her she couldn’t go. It was too dangerous, and yet it did make sense. Hafer would have to be grateful to the woman for being the temporary mother Bess needed. He loved her for thinking of it and for volunteering.
“All of you sit down,” Sarah told them. “We ate very late and there is still some soup lef
t. Tom and Bess should eat. Surely you’re hungry, Bess.”
The girl wiped at her eyes. “I’m too upset to eat.”
“I insist that you get something in your stomach—you and Tom both.”
The girl looked up at her. “Thank you so much for everything you’re doing. I really didn’t mean to make trouble for the family. It’s all my fault—just mine. I’ll make my father understand that, even if it means having to leave Texas.”
Sarah patted her shoulder. “Well, maybe that won’t happen.” She looked at Tom, scanning the scraped and wounded body. “Thank God you’re all right. Come and sit down, Tom—and calm down. You remind me of a wild animal on a chain—you and your father both.”
The young man sat down reluctantly, but he made sure to sit beside Bess. He reached over under the table and took her hand, squeezing it. It gave her a warm, accepted feeling. She was overwhelmed that they were all being kind to her and not blaming her for what had happened, even though it was all her fault as far as she was concerned. If only she had not decided to come. And yet if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t be sitting here now next to Tom.
“They probably haven’t even figured out Clements is missing yet,” Tom spoke up, taking a biscuit then, that Sarah handed him. She handed him a jar of homemade jam. “They’re probably running around trying to figure out what could have happened to Bess.”
“Hafer will send men out in every direction. The first thing they’ll suspect is Comanche,” Caleb put in, still standing.
“Hafer might not even know yet. Bess said he was off someplace seeing about winter feed. He didn’t even know she left. The men don’t mess around the house. They’ll think she’s inside and won’t think much about it. When they find out, they’ll have to ride for Hafer first, to see what he wants them to do.”
“Good. That means we’ll get there well before Bess’s father is worked up and frantic. That will help.” He glanced at Bess. “I’m amazed Clements waited as long as he did. He must have wanted to get onto Sax land before he attacked you so he could say one of us did it. He had it all figured out.”
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