“She has to be either in the main house or in that finished cabin,” Hafer told his men. “Bart, you and your bunch take the bunkhouses. Hold them at gunpoint and anybody who resists gets killed. As soon as the bunkhouses are secure, we’ll move in on the main houses. All of you—anybody gets in the way, kill him. But nobody kills Tom Sax. He’s mine. You can kill the father, but that boy is going to suffer for defiling my Bess.”
The men nodded. Hafer waited until two o’clock in the morning, when all would be in their deepest sleep. Even though Jess had warned them, Caleb’s men did not expect any trouble so soon. Hafer’s men left their horses at a distance and moved in on foot so their horses would not wake anyone.
But Tom Sax was already awake. He had never been a man to sleep soundly all night, just as his father was not. In this land a man had to sleep with his eyes half-open. But this night he was unable to sleep at all. He sat by dim lamplight, trying to make sense out of a book of poetry that Bess had given him. But Tom could understand none of the fancy writing and shook his head at the strange things women thought were important.
Suddenly his skin tingled and all senses came alert. He could not explain why. Perhaps it was his Indian instincts that told him something was amiss. His first thought was Comanche. He quickly blew out the lamp and darted to the bed, shaking Bess. She moaned and rubbed her eyes. “Tom?”
“Be still,” he whispered. “Something’s wrong.”
She gasped, sitting up.
“Come on,” he told her, pulling her out of bed. He took down two pictures and removed two logs sliced through the middle. They comprised the fake wall that served as a hiding place.
“Get behind here, and don’t come out unless it’s me who comes for you—no matter what you hear. Understand?”
“But, Tom, what about you?” she whispered as he quickly tugged away at the logs and lay them aside. Behind them was an enclosure big enough for a woman and a couple of children. He was already worried about the main house. He had to get there in time to hide Sarah and Lynda.
“Don’t worry about me. Just get in there, and damn it, if you come out for anyone but me or because you hear someone else in trouble, I’ll … I don’t know. Just get in there.”
She crawled inside. “But, Tom—”
“Stay there,” he almost growled. “Promise me, Bess, no matter what!” He heard her sniff, then heard a scream from the main house. “Goddamn it! Get in there!”
Bess hovered inside, terrified now. Tom quickly put back the logs and the pictures, then went for his musket, but not before something crashed through the window. “Out of there now, Sax, if you value the lives of your mother and sister,” someone growled from just outside in clear English. “And bring the little woman with you!”
Tom froze. It wasn’t Indians at all! Hafer! It must be Hafer men. He hesitated. There were probably a lot of them, and there was only one of him. They had apparently already invaded the main house. He glanced at the fake wall, which he could see in the moonlight, and prayed Bess would have sense enough to stay put.
“She’s not here,” he called out in the darkness.
“You expect us to believe that? Open the door, Sax.”
Tom walked cautiously to the door, dressed only in his underwear. He heard several gunshots from the area of the bunkhouse, and he knew Sax men were dying. He opened the door and several men burst in, one carrying a lantern.
“She’s not here,” one of them said after searching the one-room structure. “Let’s get him over to the main house and see what Hafer wants to do.”
“He ain’t got nothin’ but his underwear on,” another spoke up.
“So it’s a little cold out. So what? Won’t be long before he won’t feel the cold at all.” The man who had answered walked up to Tom and rammed a rifle butt into his back, sending him to his knees. “Drag him over there.”
They all left and Bess shivered behind the logs, trying to decide what to do. Tom had ordered her not to come out. It seemed the only way to save him was to go out and go to her father, and yet perhaps that would be the worst thing she could do. Once he had her, he would kill Tom for certain. Tom’s only chance of living was for the men to be unable to find her. But what would they do to Tom to make him tell where she was? Which was the worse decision? She shivered in the shelflike enclosure and quietly wept, hating her father more than ever.
At the main house Tom’s fury raged when he saw Lynda’s face was bruised. Sarah stood near the table. Both wore only their nightgowns, and Charles Hafer was growling at Sarah, telling her she’d better tell where Bess was. She said nothing, meeting his eyes boldly.
Tom jerked at the men who held him, but another kicked him in the groin. “Like the white women, huh? You filthy rapist!”
Hafer came over to Tom then, his eyes lighting up with hatred. He grabbed Tom’s hair and jerked back his head. Tom grimaced and panted from the pain between his legs, needing to bend over but unable to do so. “Where’s my daughter, you son of a bitch! What have you done to her!”
“Your daughter … is fine … and happy. You’re … the son of a bitch! She’ll … hate you now.”
“Where is she?” Hafer shouted.
“You’ll … never get her back … not now.”
Hafer landed a fist into his belly.
“Maybe if we had at his sister, he’d tell,” one of the men spoke up. “She’s a looker.”
Lynda was still reeling from a stunning blow from a Hafer man, delivered during a quick skirmish for a musket that stood in a corner of the room. Lynda had tried to reach it. The invasion had been so sudden there had not been time for Lynda and Sarah to get into the hideaway under the floor. Tom knew that if Caleb were home, he’d have been just as alert to something wrong as Tom had been.
“She’s got to be around here somewhere,” Hafer roared.
“We searched the cabin, boss. It’s only got one room.”
“Look harder!”
Men began tearing things out of closets and cupboards, and a few returned to the cabin. Tom looked over at Sarah. She would know where Bess was, but she would never tell either. She looked back at him with eyes that told him not to tell, eyes that reassured him that Caleb Sax would most certainly do something about this.
“Where’s your husband?” Hafer growled at Sarah then, walking close to her. His eyes moved over her in an effort to undo her by making her think she might be raped.
“He isn’t here either. He’s in San Felipe,” she answered calmly.
Lynda jerked away from a man who had grasped her arm to make her stay put. She looked at him with a wild look.
“Touch me or my mother, and you’ll die slowly at my father’s hands,” she hissed.
Tom again struggled to get free, suddenly jerking one arm loose and landing a fist into the second man who held him. But there were too many. Instantly five men were on him, pummeling him to the floor.
“Tom,” Lynda screamed, running into the pack to futilely try to pull them off. One of them hit her again, sending her flying against a wall. Sarah started to go to her, but Hafer grabbed her arm.
“I’ll ask you once more, Mrs. Sax. Where is your husband, and where is my daughter?”
“I told you my husband is in San Felipe. He … he took Bess with him. She wanted to go into town, but Tom couldn’t go. He has been nursing a colt that is special to him. So Caleb took her.”
Hafer grinned, shoving her toward the others. She knelt down to where Tom lay groaning on the floor.
“You two are going with us,” Hafer told them. He looked over at Lynda, who stood staring.
“No! Don’t take my mother,” she told him. “What kind of man are you?”
“A man who wants his daughter back. You tell your father that if he wants to see them both alive again, and his woman untouched, he had better bring my daughter to me. If I don’t get what I want in three days, the boy gets his head blown off, and the wife enjoys the pleasures of any of my men who needs a woman. You tell him.”
“Take one of their horses and tie him to the back of it, Gus,” Hafer ordered. “Let Mister Sax try to keep up with the gallop while you take him to where our horses are tied. Leave him half-naked like he is. The cold air and the rough ground will wake him up.”
“No!” Sarah cried out, reaching out for Tom. But the men dragged him out. Sarah turned to Hafer. “You’ve lost your daughter’s love forever,” she told him in a voice filled with sorrow. “You could have had her back so easily, just by loving her and accepting her husband. You’re a fool, Charles Hafer, and a coward! My husband will kill you for this!”
The man just grinned. “He’s the one who’s going to die—the minute he steps foot on my land to return my daughter. And he will come … for you and his son. Then my job here in Texas will be complete. Get yourself a coat.”
“I will get dressed first.” She turned, but he grabbed her arm. “Get your coat.”
Whistles and whoops could be heard outside and horses galloped off. “He bounces real good,” someone hollered. Sarah closed her eyes and walked to a hook near the door where her woolen cape and hood hung.
“You bastard,” Lynda sneered. “My father will carve you up like a gutted pig!”
“He’ll be humble enough when he finds out I’ve got his wife and son.”
“I need some shoes,” Sarah said wearily.
Hafer looked around, spotting some furry Indian winter moccasins in the corner. “Wear those.”
“They’re my husband’s. They’re too big for me.”
“Put them on. You’ve stalled long enough.”
Sarah looked at Lynda. “It’s all right, Lynda. Keep James fed for me. It’s best that I go. Tom will need me.”
One of the other men still in the house snickered. “That’s a fact. All that dark skin will be scraped off by the time they’re through with him. Maybe we’ll make a white man out of him after all.”
Sarah felt ill, and Lynda shook with rage. Sarah looked at John as she pulled on the moccasins. “Don’t be afraid, John,” she told the boy. “Tell your father exactly what has happened.” She looked at Hafer. “He’ll know what to do. Mister Hafer has made a great mistake. All the money in the world isn’t worth what will happen to him for this.”
Hafer paled slightly at the calm confidence in her eyes. He grabbed her arm and pulled her outside. There were a few more gunshots and shouts as Hafer and his men rode away with Sarah and Tom.
Lynda ran outside and watched them go, whispering her mother’s name as the figures faded in the distance.
Chapter
Seventeen
* * *
Caleb brushed down his horse, grateful for Wil Handel’s friendship. The Handel place was a good halfway point to and from town. He had stayed the night before on his way into town and would stay tonight and return home in the morning. It was not yet dark, but too late to go any farther.
Everyone at the meeting in town that day had been urged to join the Texas militia. The man Caleb had talked to about his problems with Hafer had suggested that any continued lawlessness would be more easily “tolerated” if he pledged himself to the militia.
It still angered Caleb that they thought they needed to bribe him into joining. If it came down to a war with Mexico, he would not hesitate to take part, nor would Tom. Of course he would join the militia, and he flatly told the man so, reminding him that he was one of the first settlers in Texas, that several members of his family were buried on his land. But Caleb had not missed the look in the man’s eyes, as though to tell Caleb that because he was an Indian he was going to have to try harder than any white man to keep what he owned, including proving his loyalty by joining the militia.
“When we declare war against Mexico, I’ll be riding with the militia,” Caleb told the man. “Right now you’ve got plenty of free men coming in to help. I have a ranch to run and a family to watch after.”
The looming fear of losing both ranch and family haunted him again. He didn’t like the attitudes developing in Texas and was glad that Sam Houston was still in charge. Houston’s popularity was growing every day, especially with Stephen Austin still in prison in Mexico City. Caleb liked Houston, knew by his eyes he was an honest man and by his past record he was a friend to Indians. Still, the changes in Texas only added to the uneasy feeling that plagued him since leaving San Felipe.
He walked out of the barn to see a rider coming. As the man came closer he recognized Jake Highwater, and his heart quickened with the urgency of the man’s hard ride and the way he paid no heed to Handel men who waved to him, except to stop and ask one of them if Caleb was there.
“Jake! Over here,” Caleb called out, walking quickly toward the man.
Jake rode up to him, his horse pushing dirt into little piles in front of its hooves as Jake drew it to a quick halt. The animal snorted and tossed its head, lather showing along its neck. “I hoped I’d find you here, Caleb. Bad trouble! A lot of the men have been killed and wounded. They took Tom—and Sarah!”
Caleb’s face visibly darkened with rage. “Who?”
“Hafer and his men. They came last night. Actually it was about two this morning,” the man panted. “They planned it out well, Caleb. We didn’t expect them to come so soon, or at that hour. They were looking for Bess, but Tom hid her behind the logs in the fake wall. They dragged Tom out—beat him and took off dragging him behind a horse. They took Sarah, too. They didn’t even let her get dressed first—took her in her robe and gown.”
Caleb’s blue eyes turned to a wild look the man had never seen in them. “Lynda? John and the babies?”
“The boy is okay, and the babies. They hit Lynda. They never found Bess. She’s okay, but she’s awful upset—thinks it’s all her fault—thinks you’ll blame it all on her.” The man’s eyes teared. “Goddamn, Caleb, they caught us sleeping. I never thought they would come back at us so soon. Some of them held Ada and my sons at gunpoint. There was nothing I could do.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Jake. We’ll get them back. There’s only one person to blame, and that’s Charles Hafer,” he hissed. “He will die for this!” He walked back to the barn to get his horse. “Go tell Wil what happened. We’ll leave right now—ride all night if we have to. Borrow a fresh horse from Wil. We’ll pick yours up later.”
Jake rode up to the house and Caleb went to the stall where his horse was bedded down. His thoughts spun wildly. What had they done to Tom? And Sarah? If any man touched her, he would die a slow, agonizing death.
Caleb reached home by noon the next day, nearly half the time it should have taken him. He jumped off his horse before it even came to a complete halt, ordering a man to take care of it and get a fresh horse ready.
He ran into the house. Lynda looked up from slicing some bread, and Bess sat in a rocker near the hearth holding Cale. Her brown eyes showed terror and sorrow, deep circles under them. She looked away quickly when Caleb entered, and Caleb went directly to Lynda, who reached out for him.
“They took him—dragged him,” she told him, breaking into tears. “And they took Mother.”
He hugged her tightly. “I’ll get them back.”
He pulled away, studying her bruised face, his fury almost unbearable. He put a hand to her face. “Sons of bitches,” he hissed. “Did they hit your mother?”
“No,” she sniffed. She held his eyes. “They said if you want Tom back alive and don’t want anything to happen to Mother, you’re to bring Bess to them by Friday noon. That’s the day after tomorrow. What should we do!”
“Don’t you worry. We’ll get them back.” He turned to look at Bess, who sat with her head hanging, rocking Cale.
“I should have come out,” she said quietly. “Tom told me … not to.” Her words broke as she also began crying. “They’re going to kill Tom. And it’s … all my fault.”
“You did the right thing,” Caleb told her. “If they had got you righ
t away they would have killed Tom then and there. You’re our insurance.”
She met his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she wept.
“It isn’t your fault, Bess. You love Tom. There’s nothing wrong in that. And I’ll get him back—and Sarah.”
“Are you … returning me to my father?”
His eyes glittered with rage. “Never. I don’t need to trade you to take back what’s mine. But your father’s life isn’t worth much right now, Bess. I’m sorry.”
She sniffed and cuddled Cale closer. James came crawling toward his father, taking on a bright smile. Caleb went to him, picking him up and hugging him tightly. At least they hadn’t harmed the babies.
“That’s the first time he’s smiled this morning,” Lynda told him, wiping her eyes. “He’s been crawling all over the house looking for his mother.”
Caleb kissed the boy’s cheek, a lump in his throat. “She’ll be here holding him in no time at all,” he answered. He set the boy down. “Pack me a little food. I’m going to check on the men and see how many I can muster up.” He turned to leave.
“Father.”
He stopped and looked at Lynda.
“They’re waiting for you. Hafer wants you dead. He said since the Council doesn’t care how this is handled, he has free license to get rid of you.”
Caleb smiled bitterly. “Let him try. I’m sure there is a big bonus in it for him from Mister Byron Clawson if he succeeds. But Clawson is going to be sweating in his sleep for a long time when he finds out Hafer failed!”
John came rushing in then. “Pa!” He ran to his father and hugged him. “Pa, they took Tom! They beat him up bad. And they took Sarah—”
“I know all about it, John.”
The boy looked up at him. “You’ll get them, won’t you, Pa? You’ll get all of them for what they did.”
Caleb gently pushed him away. “That’s right, John. I’ll have Sarah and Tom back here in no time at all.”
“Can I go with you, Pa?”
Caleb shook his head. “Not this time. There will be too much shooting going on.”
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