Frontier Fires

by Rosanne Bittner

  “Thank you, Wil. I’ll do that.”

  They rode into town. Several Sax wagons lumbered behind Caleb to be used to carry bags of feed—feed he could not really afford but had to buy. Tom and John rode beside Caleb as they moved past the little cabin on the outskirts of town in which Emily lived. There would be no time for visiting today.

  Caleb wondered if things were still all right. They rode past the blacksmith’s, and Howard Cox stood outside. He waved. Caleb stopped a moment to talk to Howard, telling the man to say hello to Emily. Yes. Things were still all right.

  Their backs were turned to the street as a fancy buggy clattered by. They drew up in front of the supply store. Wil said his farewells and rode on, but Tom’s eyes had caught sight of the buggy. It looked familiar. He was sure it was Hafer’s. His heartbeat quickened. Maybe Bess was in it. But there had been luggage tied to the back and a couple of men following behind. Why the luggage? Was Hafer making her go back to St. Louis?

  “Father, I have some things to do myself. Can I leave for a while?”

  Caleb frowned, looking around. He didn’t see the buggy. “I suppose. I’m going to the Council while the men load up the wagons. Meet me back here in an hour or so.”

  The young man nodded and turned his horse, riding on down the street. Caleb frowned with a gnawing worry. Tom had said nothing earlier about having “other things” to do. But Caleb had too much on his mind to be concerned at the moment. He gave his men instructions and told John to stay with them, then headed for the building where American settlers took their complaints to their own appointed leaders. At one time that was Stephen Austin. But Austin still languished in prison in Mexico. Others had taken over for the time being.

  Caleb approached the building and dismounted. The town seemed to be teeming with men he didn’t even know. There was a time when he knew most people around here, a time when he was one of only a few. That had all changed. Apparently even a place as big as Texas could gradually fill with people, especially when whites smelled free land. He unbuttoned his heavy wolfskin jacket and walked inside, feeling the stares of a few who he knew were wondering why an Indian was here. He was finely tuned to such looks, knew the prejudiced ones in a moment. He walked through the door.

  “We’re gonna have to do somethin’ about all the Indians comin’ to Texas some day,” a man outside said to another. “What do you figure him for? Cherokee?”

  “Hell no. Cherokee dress different. He’s almost too big for any kind of full-blood Indian. Maybe he’s a breed. Looks a little like Sioux or Cheyenne,”

  “Down here? Looks right civilized for any kind of Indian. Nice horse he rides.”

  “That’s Caleb Sax,” someone nearby spoke up. “He’s been here since Austin first came. Owns a big spread north of here—raises those horses.”

  “Yeah?” The first man looked the horse over. “Wouldn’t mind liftin’ a few off him.”

  “I wouldn’t try it,” the third man told him. “He’s not one to mess with. I hear tell he rode right into a Comanche camp to take back a son they’d stole. In my book, that’s not the kind of man I’d want to go up against.”

  The first man backed off but put on a cocky smile. “Well, the day’s gonna come when him and the Comanche is gonna have to leave. You’ll see.”

  Piano music spilled from a nearby tavern and several men rode up then. “Where is it we go to claim our land?” one of them shouted.

  The third man who had spoken nodded toward the door. “In there,” he told them.

  The men dismounted and laughed and pushed each other around as they went inside.

  “Yeah,” the man muttered to himself. “I don’t expect the Indians will be here much longer.”

  Tom rode through the town, scanning both sides of the dirt street in which old ruts had hardened in the cold weather. He saw no sign of the carriage anywhere in town, and decided to try the docks along the river. If the luggage tied to the carriage meant what he thought it did, Charles Hafer was sending his daughter away. And most people heading East left this place by the river to the Gulf.

  His suspicions proved to be right. His heart quickened when he spotted the carriage tied at the docks. He quickly dismounted, tying his horse out of sight and cautiously moving closer, scanning the several people who stood about until he spotted a young woman standing between two men.

  There was no mistaking the slender form of Bess Hafer. Her back was to him as all three of them looked out over the river, standing near a small, flat-bottomed steamboat used to carry passengers to the Gulf.

  All his senses came alive. He couldn’t let her leave! Surely seeing her, coming here the very day her father was sending her away, was a sign from God that he must not let her go. He looked carefully about for Charles Hafer but couldn’t see him, then made his way even closer, wanting to call out to Bess but not daring to do it. He waited impatiently until finally she turned.

  He could see as she looked around that she was hoping, searching desperately for help. Her father had probably watched her like a hawk to make sure she found no way to let him know she was leaving. Finally she spotted Tom, looking ready to cry out at the sight of him. Tom waved his arms and shook his head, signaling her to say nothing and putting fingers to his lips for silence. The men with her still watched the river and did not notice. Bess’s eyes were wide with surprise as Tom pointed to the other side of the shacklike building that served as headquarters for the docks, then moved in that direction.

  Bess quickly turned around, talking to the men casually for a few minutes, keeping their attention while Tom ducked around behind the building and waited, praying Bess could get away. Finally she appeared, walking along the dock as though taking in the sights, then turning and walking quickly to where Tom stood out of sight of the others.

  “Tom!” She broke into tears and rushed to him, and he embraced her tightly.

  “Tom, he’s sending me back to St. Louis. I didn’t know how to get a message to you. I was going to write you when I got to St. Louis. Oh, Tom, I don’t want to go! Take me away with you.”

  He kissed her hair, on fire for her, wanting her more than ever. She couldn’t go away! She couldn’t!

  He grasped her arms and gently pulled away. “Those men could come any minute.”

  “I told them I wanted to walk alone for a minute. They’re along for protection. They’re supposed to accompany me all the way to St. Louis.”

  “Where’s your father?”

  “Right inside that building talking to the attendant,” she said in a near whisper, indicating the very building behind which they stood.

  “All right. You go back right away, and don’t let them see you crying.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “You watch for me—all the way downriver. The boats always stop to let people off to relieve themselves. Be ready. That’s when I’ll come. Try to walk a little bit away from those men. Don’t worry about your baggage or anything. I can get you new clothes. The important thing is to get away and get you to the ranch. I’ll wait till the boat is several miles downstream so it will take a while to get the word back to your father. By that time we’ll be married and there won’t be anything he can do about it.”

  Her eyes widened. “Married!”

  He frowned. “You will marry me, won’t you?”

  She gasped and smiled, hugging him again. “Oh, Tom, you know I will.”

  He kissed her cheek. “There’s an old mission not far from where we live. I know the priest there. He’ll marry us. Go on now. Get back there, and don’t let on you’re all excited, girl. You look too happy. You’re supposed to be sad, remember?”

  He gave her the smile that melted her and quickly kissed her lips lightly. “It will be all right,” he told her. “You don’t have to be a wife right away, Bess. I’ll understand. We’ll just get it legal on paper.”

  Her blood rushed with wanton desires, and her face turned crimson, yet her heart pounded with apprehension. She must t
rust him completely, and to actually let him make a woman of her frightened her, yet thrilled her at the same time. She had never felt so confused and had that confusion be so exciting. And she was sure by his tender, dark eyes that he truly wouldn’t touch her if she wasn’t ready.

  “I’ll be watching for you,” she whispered. She darted away then and he waited a moment before moving around the other side of the building, being careful again that no one who knew him saw him. He moved along with a crowd of newcomers then to his horse, mounting up and riding back to the supply store.

  “You do what you have to do,” a man in charge told Caleb. “Mister, we’re so thick with new people claiming land and all this business with the Mexicans and trying to raise an army that we don’t have time for a neighborly fight over water.”

  “There could be violence. I intend to get my water back,” Caleb warned. “I want it known that I came here for help the legal way first. Some men might get killed and I don’t intend to hang for it or for one of my men to.”

  The man leaned back, scanning Caleb. “You’re a big landowner, one of the first settlers here. I’d say you’re free to do as you wish.”

  “I am also Indian. That’s getting to be an issue around here.”

  “Not as far as I’m concerned. I’ve got nothing against the settled ones. We run things here the way Mister Austin would want them run, not the newcomers.” The man studied a map, then opened a book that had names written in it. “What I don’t understand is why this Hafer is giving you trouble, Mister Sax. It isn’t even his land.”

  Caleb frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “Didn’t he tell you he’s settling it for some big investor in St. Louis?”

  Caleb was fully alert. “He doesn’t own it himself?”

  “No. It belongs to … uh … Clawson. A Byron Clawson. Says here he’s some banker from St. Louis.”

  Every nerve end came alive in Caleb Sax. Byron Clawson! He should have known; when for that one brief moment weeks ago Clawson had come to mind, Caleb should have come to town right then to check it out. It all made so much sense now! It was all he needed to know, the final blow. Hafer, would pay for this! And Byron Clawson’s fears of Caleb Sax would be strongly reawakened.

  “Thank you,” he said aloud, his eyes shining with revenge. “I’m free then to settle this any way I can?”

  The man closed the book. “Sax, this is still a relatively lawless land. We sure don’t have enough militia men to do anything about it, nor any specific laws to cover it. Until Texas is more settled and civilized, men are still going to have to make their own laws and settle their own disputes.”

  “You record it in that ledger you keep. Write down that I was here for help, and sign it.”

  The man sighed impatiently. “You can count on my word, Sax.”

  “Maybe so. Maybe not. I know the sentiment that’s building around here against Indians. I want my visit and my request in writing. And put your name on a piece of paper and give it to me so I’ll remember it if I ever need a witness.”

  The man shook his head and began writing the visit into his ledger, then handed Caleb the piece of paper.

  Caleb nodded. “Thanks for your time.” He quickly left.

  Byron Clawson! His mind reeled with the meaning of it. The thought of what the man was up to made Caleb more determined to find a way to kill him some day. So, after all these years, Clawson was still trying to do him in, only in a cowardly, subtle way. That was like Clawson. He would make the man shake in his shoes. He would destroy Charles Hafer, and Clawson would find out about it and know he was a marked man.

  He eased up onto his horse and rode to the supply store, where John waited for him. “Tom was here, Pa.” The boy took Caleb’s reins and tied them to a hitching post. “He said to tell you he has something to do and might be gone a few days and not to worry about him. He’ll talk to you when he gets back.”

  Caleb’s heart tightened with alarm. He dismounted and looked around the crowded street, seeing no sign of his eldest son. He turned back to John.

  “How long ago was this?”

  The boy shrugged. “About twenty minutes ago, I guess.”

  “Did he look upset, like something was wrong?”

  John pursed his lips. “Nope. He acted kind of happy and excited.”

  All of Caleb’s instincts were alert. It all rang of Bess Hafer. “Damn,” he muttered. “Which way did he head?”

  John pointed down the street toward the docks. “He said to please trust him and just wait till he comes home.”

  Caleb was tempted to ride to the docks, but just then Jake Highwater came out with a problem about the feed.

  “We can’t get all we need, Caleb. Not enough,” the man told him.

  Caleb tore his thoughts from Tom. “Not enough? Or is it just that we’re Indians.”

  “My guess is the last, but what can we do?”

  “We’ll take what we can get, and then we’re going to pay Charles Hafer a visit,” Caleb answered.

  The man grinned. “Right. We’re all ready when you are.”

  “Help load the feed, John,” he told the boy.

  “Yes, sir.” John obeyed immediately. He was a good son, always eager to please.

  Caleb turned to watch for Tom again, but the young man was nowhere to be seen.

  Chapter

  Fourteen

  * * *

  Tom followed the river, keeping to rough brush and stands of cottonwood and mesquite whenever possible, holding far back from the flatboat when the land cleared. She was on that boat. That he knew for certain, for he’d watched her father hug her and bid her farewell at the docks. That was yesterday. In order to keep up with the boat, he had ridden all night. He only hoped his horse would have enough energy left to run when the time was right.

  There were moments when he wondered if he and Bess were both crazy. They still knew very little about each other, and yet Tom felt he knew her so well. That was the kind of woman she was. She exuded goodness, and he could see beyond her youthful fears and excitability enough to know she would be a good, strong woman some day.

  His heart pounded with anticipation. He would make her his wife and that was that. Both their fathers would be upset. It didn’t matter. It would surely cause his own father problems, but Caleb understood. He had been through this himself. At least Bess would belong to Tom legally and no one could take her away. He would not touch her, if she wasn’t ready. Just to know she was his and they could stay together was all that mattered. He wanted Bess Hafer and he was going to have her.

  He rode for several more miles before he decided it was time to make his move. There were enough miles now between the boat and Charles Hafer. He waited until the boat finally clanged its bell, slowing to let people off to tend to personal needs. Tom nudged his horse to move a little faster, heading for a stand of cottonwoods closer to the boat where it had finally pulled up next to the riverbank. Several people moved about on board. It looked as though Bess and one other woman were the only females. The two men who had originally been with Bess walked behind her along a plank to shore, followed by several other passengers.

  Bess headed for some bushes, turning to the men and saying something to them in an irritated voice. Tom knew she was telling them she didn’t need them to follow her all the way behind the bushes to watch her lift her skirts. He dismounted, leaving his horse in the stand of trees. He crept closer, watching her kneel behind the bushes but not relieve herself. She was waiting, hoping Tom would come this time. Tom waited while the two men took care of themselves, then headed back to the boat.

  “Let’s go, Miss Hafer.”

  “I’m going to need longer,” she answered. “Please give me some privacy. Go back on the boat. I’ll be along.”

  The two men looked at each other and shrugged. “You call out if you have a problem,” one of them answered. They shook their heads and headed back for the boat. Tom waited until they were on board, then darted closer.r />
  “Bess,” he said in a loud whisper.

  She turned and smiled with delight. He held out his hand and she ran to him.

  “Come on,” he told her. “My horse is nearby. They can’t catch us. They have no horses.”

  He pulled her along to his mount, lifting her onto it.

  Someone had spotted them.

  “Hey!” It was a man’s voice, probably one of her guards. There was no time to turn and see. Tom leaped onto the horse in front of Bess.

  “Hang on,” he told her, kicking the animal into a dead gallop.

  “Hey! Come back here!”

  Shots were fired into the air.

  “My God, an Indian rode off with that girl,” someone yelled.

  “Oh, no,” a woman wailed. “The poor child has been kidnapped by a Comanche!”

  “That wasn’t any Comanche,” one of her guards muttered. Tom and Bess were already out of sight. “There’s no Comanche this far east! If my guess is right, that was that son-of-a-bitchin’ son of Caleb Sax.” He looked at his partner.

  “Jesus,” the man answered. “We’re in a lot of goddamned trouble.”

  The first man sighed. “We gotta go tell Hafer. He’ll want to get her back.”

  “We’ll lose our jobs.”

  “Let’s hope that’s all we lose.” The man turned to the boat’s captain. “How close is the next settlement?” he shouted. “We’ve got to get some horses and get back to Mister Hafer.”

  “About another hour, mister.”

  “Well get this thing moving!”

  The captain nodded, and the small boat started off down the river.

  They rode hard for a few miles, until Tom was sure they were safely away from anyone who might try to stop them. He slowed his horse, realizing that if he kept up the pace he’d kill the animal. He would be in enough trouble with his father without overworking one of his best mounts. He slowed the gelding to a walk to let him cool down a little before halting him completely.

  “You all right?” he asked Bess.