She reddened at the thought of what Clements had intended to do to her. He had been very graphic in his explanation, laughing the whole time, terrifying her. Was that what all men did to women? Why did it seem so horrible with someone like Clements, yet bring fire to her blood at the thought of Tom Sax doing that to her?
Caleb’s eyes moved over her appreciatively. Yes. She was certainly beautiful. And he had no doubt that Tom’s seeing the girl again would only lead to a situation the young man had tried to avoid. He wouldn’t let her go this time—wouldn’t forget her. He would never be able to keep this promise to stay away from her.
Bess could only pick at her food.
“This will all get straightened out, and you will come and visit us often, Bess,” Sarah was telling her. “I was a seamstress back in St. Louis. Lynda helped me. We’ll teach you how to make clothes. Would you like that?” she added.
The girl nodded, her eyes tearing again. She could hardly stand them being so nice to her. Besides, her father would never let her come back. What was she to do?
“Take one day at a time, Bess,” Sarah spoke up, as though to read her thoughts. “That’s all any of us can do. That’s how Caleb and I get by without going crazy. There is never a tomorrow—only a today.” She looked at Caleb and he saw the fear in her eyes. How she feared losing him again! But she didn’t dare show it in front of poor Bess. She didn’t want him saying he’d killed the man, but she knew it was the right choice.
Tom scooted back his chair. “Excuse me. I want to walk with Bess before everybody goes to sleep.”
He met his father’s eyes. Caleb nodded. “Go ahead. Take her over to Lynda’s cabin. But don’t keep her long. She’s been through a lot and needs her sleep before she leaves tomorrow morning.”
“Do you need anything, Bess?” Lynda asked. “I have some dresses at my cabin that might fit you, although they’d probably be a little long.” She put a hand to her swollen belly. “I’m so big with child I can’t wear any of them.”
Bess shook her head. “No, thank you. It might be better if I go back like this—with my dress torn and all—so my father sees.”
“But if you put on one of my dresses, he’ll know we helped you. You can show him tike torn one. Besides, that one has Tom’s blood on it.”
Bess put a hand to a ripped sleeve, feeling awkward and embarrassed. “Yes. Maybe you’re right.”
Lynda rose. “Give us a few minutes, Tom. Come with me, Bess. We’ll find you something to wear.”
Bess looked at Tom, who gave her a supportive smile. “Go ahead.”
The girl backed away. “I really am sorry—for all of you,” she told them again. “I’ll just die if anyone gets hurt over this.”
“It will all work out,” Sarah assured her.
The girl left with Lynda, and Sarah met Caleb’s eyes. “We’ll go together. Hafer won’t be able to do a thing.”
He sighed. “I don’t like you going.”
“Nor do I,” Tom put in. “Let me go, Father. This is all wrong!”
“The worst thing you could do is go there yourself. I told you that once.”
His eyes showed a desperate look. “But he’ll send her away!”
“Maybe not,” Sarah answered, “if we can convince him she only did it out of loneliness for a woman’s company—not for you. But it was for you, wasn’t it?”
Tom toyed with a biscuit. “Dumb, crazy girl,” he muttered.
Sarah glanced at Caleb again. “Yes. We all do dumb, crazy things at times. I know a young girl who once ran off with a young Indian man against her father’s wishes.” A lump rose in her throat at the memory and she looked away, picking up some of the food. “Poor Bess hardly ate.” She looked at Tom then. “Let’s hope nothing as disastrous as what Caleb and I went through happens to you.”
Tom rose and went to the door. “I’m going to the bunkhouse to clean up a little before I see Bess.”
Sarah looked at him in concern. “Your wound should be wrapped.”
“It’s all right.” He turned and left, and moments later young John looked down from the loft.
“Can I go with you to the Hafer’s, Pa?”
Caleb looked up. He’d forgotten the boy had gone to bed and probably heard everything. “I guess so, son. Just don’t say a word, and do everything I tell you, understand?”
“Yes, sir. Will there be a lot of people there like last time?”
Caleb felt his chest tighten. “Only Hafer men this time, I’m afraid.”
Tom walked to Lynda’s cabin. Bess opened the door to his knock. She wore a pink flowered dress and her hair was brushed out long. His eyes moved over her with admiration shining in them, but the bruises on her face aroused his anger again. He checked it, giving her a soft smile.
“You look nice.”
She smiled, but her eyes were red and her bruises ached. Her arm was badly scratched and it hurt under the sleeve of the dress. “The dress is too long. I’m so short, and Lynda is taller than most women.” He took her hand and looked past her at Lynda.
“She’s feeling better,” Lynda told him. “Don’t worry about Father, Tom. He can take care of himself. You know that.” She saw the concern in her brother’s eyes. He loved his father—worshipped him. He didn’t like the man covering for him. But Caleb was not going to have it any other way. “I’ll leave you two alone for a while.” Lynda moved past them and out the door to walk back to her parents’ house. Tom stepped inside the cabin. He had changed into a blue calico shirt when he went to the bunkhouse. He wore no jacket, and wondered if it was pure anger that made him feel warm in spite of the cold air. He had washed off the dirt from his struggle with Clements, but he walked slowly, and Bess knew his wound hurt him.
“I’m so sorry, Tom,” she could not help saying again. “It all seems so unnecessary. I never should have been so forward as to try to come here anyway, not even knowing if you wanted to see me. I should have left well enough alone.”
He looked down at her. “Bess, I told you I’m glad you came. Every day I tried to decide if I should go see you, but I thought if I avoided seeing you, I could forget you. It didn’t work.”
Their eyes held and he finally tore his away to walk her to the bed in the little one-room cabin. He sat down on the edge of it and urged her to do the same. She felt embarrassed, but she obeyed.
“Whatever happens, Bess,” he told her, “I don’t regret what I did today. That man deserved to die. And I’m glad you came to see me. Don’t ever blame yourself for any of it.”
“It’s so hard not to. I … I care about you so much, Tom. I wanted so badly to see you again that I did a stupid thing.”
He shrugged. “It’s not so stupid or bad—not when all you wanted was to see a friend.”
“But we hardly know each other.”
He met her eyes, leaning close. “Out here in this land people don’t have to know each other long. Things happen fast. People get lonely.”
“Are you lonely?”
He put a gentle hand to her face. “I am surrounded by family—parents, brothers, a sister. And still I am lonely. I miss my brother-in-law, Lee—my sister’s husband who was killed by the Comanche. He was my best friend. But it’s more than that.” His voice lowered to a near whisper. “I’m lonely for a woman.”
He came closer and she closed her eyes, whimpering slightly when his mouth met hers in a lingering kiss. His tongue lightly tasted her lips, sending flames through her blood, and a light, tender kiss began to turn into a more demanding one, as both reacted to the intense passions of youth and newfound love.
She should pull away. Yes, she should pull away. But she did not want to. Tom Sax was a man. He kissed her like a man, not like the boys back home had kissed her—not that there had been many—only a couple of playful romances—nothing like this. Tom Sax was a man who knew what he wanted and knew how to take it. She was helpless against him, and she gasped and returned his kiss when he put a hand to her back and gently laid her onto
the bed, consumed with a need to touch her more, feel her against him. He still had not left her mouth when he moved on top of her, kissing her in heated passion now, groaning slightly, loving the feel of her firm breasts against his chest, the feel of his own hardness against her belly.
Finally he left her mouth, breathing hard, moving his lips to her neck. “You make me feel crazy,” he whispered. “I want to forget you but I can’t.”
“I can’t forget you either,” she whispered in return, feeling weak and dizzy and consumed with fiery desires she’d never felt before. Tom! This was Tom Sax! He wanted her! He’d kissed her! He was lying against her. Was she being bad? Surely not. Surely if a girl loved someone … love. How could she be in love so soon, so quickly? Oh, it was easy. He was so handsome, so strong and good and kind and brave. He had saved her from Stu Clements’s scheming. So what if he was Indian? None of those things her father had said could possibly be true about Tom Sax.
“I think I love you, Bess,” he was whispering now. “I know it sounds crazy.” He raised up slightly, studying her eyes lovingly, his face only inches away. “It’s like they say. Things happen so fast out here. It’s a dangerous land, and there isn’t time for fancy courting and those things. It’s like every day could be the last. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I think I love you, too.”
How easy it would be to take her right then and there. Oh, how he wanted to try! But she had been through too much this day. It was all wrong. There would be a right time, a right place. She would be his wife first. Was that possible? A desperate fear engulfed him. Would he never see her again? He’d never let Hafer send her away. If he sent her away, Tom would follow and bring her back. He would never let her go. Never!
He met her lips again, savagely, hungrily.
Wonderful sensations swept through Bess Hafer’s innocent body. This was so different from the ugliness of Stu Clements. This was Tom. He made her want to please him, made her feel totally under his control, and she was, for he knew everything and she knew nothing. She had never had these feelings before—never wanted a man in the physical sense, never dreamed she could abandon her “proper” ways and let some young man kiss her the way Tom Sax was kissing her, hold her against himself in such a sinful way. But was it sinful, if there were feelings of love involved?
“I’ll see more of you,” he whispered in her ear. “Somehow I’ll see more of you, Bess. That’s a promise I’ll keep this time.”
He kissed her more gently then. Oh, how she loved his lips, his touch, his smile. He moved off her reluctantly, lying beside her then and pulling her into the crook of his arm.
“You rest now,” he told her. “Rest right here beside me.”
“But there’s so much to talk about. I want to know more about you and your family—about your Indian heritage—”
“Hush. You’ve got to rest. Somehow we’ll be together another time when there’s more time to talk about those things. My father will leave early. You’ve got to rest.”
She sighed, nestling into his shoulder, astonished that it was so easy for her to do.
“You’re crazy to have feelings for me, you know, Bess,” he told her then. “It will make things hard for you. You had better think about it once you’re home. When I see you again, if you say I shouldn’t come back, I’ll understand.”
“Never. I’ll never change my mind. But it would be so much easier if my father would understand and let us be friends.”
He moved his hand to lightly stroke her hair, and his arm brushed against her full breasts as he did so, making her breasts ache with an arousal unlike anything she’d known. “I think we will be more than friends, Bess Hafer,” he told her.
Chapter
Twelve
* * *
They rode onto Hafer land, Caleb and several Cherokee in front, men on either side and behind of Sarah and Bess. Caleb wanted the women in the middle where they would not be easy targets. When they first left, Cherokee scouts who rode ahead had found the body of Stu Clements. Caleb had ordered it buried. Now it was late, the sun beginning to set. They were nearing Hafer’s house. Sarah prayed there would be no violence, not just because of Caleb, but also because young John rode right beside his father. Anyone could tell the boy rode in that position very proudly, puffing his chest out and thinking himself fully a man, proud Caleb had let him come along.
She looked over at Bess and smiled. The girl seemed stronger and more determined today. Perhaps it was because of her feelings for Tom, which were so very obvious. The girl all but worshipped him and considered him nothing short of a hero. Sarah could not blame her. She well remembered her feelings for Caleb when he had first visited her in St. Louis, and how his savage masculinity overwhelmed her. It still did.
Sarah hoped Bess understood that the best thing she could do right now was not to mention Tom in any way, and not to grow too impatient if she did not see him for a while. They must be cautious until Hafer got over the incident with Stu Clements, and Bess must approach her father carefully on the subject of Tom Sax. But young love was usually not patient.
Sarah shivered. The sun had done little to warm the cold November wind.
Caleb looked back at her. “You all right?”
“I’m fine, Caleb. Don’t worry so much.”
He knew her well enough to know she would never let on if she was uncomfortable or hurting. He knew her breasts were sore and tender from not feeding James and wondered if he should have let her come at all. The stone house was finally in sight, and several men were riding toward them now. Caleb raised his hand for everyone to halt. Sarah retied her warm scarf, her heart pounding.
Bess moved closer, looking worried. Sarah reached out and took her hand as Hafer men came closer, wielding long rifles.
“Sax!” one of them shouted.
Caleb recognized Jess Purnell.
“Hello, Purnell. We’re here to return Bess Hafer safely home.”
Purnell frowned. “What the hell happened? We didn’t realize till last night she was even missing. Hafer is frantic.”
“She’s been at our place. She got lonely for a woman’s company and hired one of your men to ride her to our place to see my wife and daughter.”
Purnell’s eyes moved to Bess. “That was a damned fool thing to do. You didn’t even tell your father.”
Bess looked down, unable to speak.
“She was going to send the man back to tell him,” Caleb put in. “His name was Stu Clements. You know which one he is?”
Purnell nodded, while other Hafer men moved around the Cherokee threateningly. “He’s sure not the one I’d pick to accompany a young girl that far.”
“I’m glad you realize that, Purnell. I killed him.”
Purnell stiffened.
“What the hell are you sayin’, Indian?” one of the other men said.
“You heard me. I killed Clements.”
“He had to, Jess,” Bess blurted out. “Stu tried to attack me. He was going to do something bad to me. Mister Sax tried to stop him, but then Stu tried to kill him.”
Purnell’s eyes moved from Caleb to the girl. He suspected more but said nothing.
“Clements is buried near the border where our land connects,” Caleb told him. “He waited till he got on Sax land. Must have figured on blaming it on one of us.”
“We ought to hang him,” one of the other men said. “He had no right killin’ the man—an Indian killin’ a white man!”
“Should he have let Clements kill him instead? And then rape and murder Charles Hafer’s daughter?’ Sarah asked, angered. “I suggest you get your priorities straight, sir.”
The man’s eyes softened somewhat. “This is no place for a woman, ma’am.”
“Bess has had a bad experience and was frightened. I came along as a friend.”
“Please take us to my father, Jess,” Bess spoke up. “These people have been kind to me. Don’t keep them sitting out here in the cold wind.”
The man looked them all over, sighing and pushing back his hat. “Come on.”
They all rode in together, and before they reached the house a man rode out toward them. Bess recognized her father. Her heart pounded, and she reminded herself not to mention Tom. Oh, how it had hurt to leave him this morning, knowing it might be a long time before she saw him again. But at least she had the memory of his kiss, the hope of knowing he cared very much for her.
“Bess!” Her father rode closer. He halted his horse before going to her, realizing she was surrounded by Caleb Sax and his men. “What the hell is going on here? Sax! What are you doing with my daughter?”
“He saved her life, Mister Hafer,” Jess Purnell said. “Your daughter got lonely for some company and asked Stu Clements to ride her over to the Saxes to visit with the women there. Stu attacked her and Sax killed him.”
Hafer stiffened. “Killed him! You killed one of my men?”
“It couldn’t be helped. He was attacking your daughter. Last night at dusk I happened to be riding the north range and saw her riding away from him. He shot her horse from under her and attacked her. I broke it up and he tried to kill me. I stabbed him. We buried him on our way here. We have the saddle with us from the dead horse, and your daughter’s torn dress. Bess was very upset, so I took her to our place first so Sarah could help her clean up. My daughter gave her a clean dress and she stayed the night with us. We left this morning to bring her back.”
Hafer frowned at Caleb, scanning the rest of them then as though looking for someone. “Where’s your oldest son, Sax?”
Caleb held his eyes steadily. “He’s at San Felipe … been there a couple of days now seeing about winter supplies and looking into possibly volunteering for the militia.”
Hafer studied him a long time, then nudged his horse forward, moving through Caleb’s men to Bess, his face red with anger. “I’m glad as hell to see you’re all right, young lady, but I want an explanation! You’ve just about given me heart failure!”
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