Frontier Fires

by Rosanne Bittner

  His own eyes teared. How could he make life better for this son? Everyone he touched and loved seemed to suffer. If only Pepper hadn’t died. If only he could present James with his dog. He wondered if deep inside, the boy blamed his father for the death of his dog and the humiliation of his mother. If Caleb Sax were not an Indian, perhaps none of it would have happened. Was that what James was thinking?

  Still, the boy clung to him now, turned to his father for comfort. Yes, the boy loved him. But he was also still very young and dependent.

  There would be no sleep for Caleb Sax that night. He had too much to think about. How much longer could he hold out? How much longer could he subject his family to the growing dangers here? He had worked so hard for this land, lost so much for it, risked his own life for it. Now he might have to leave it.

  Caleb thought of the words of an old Mexican he had known when he first settled in Texas. The land was filling with Americans, and Caleb asked him why he didn’t leave and go farther south into Mexico.

  “Mis raices estan aqui.” the old man had told him. “My roots are buried here.”

  Yes. That was the way it was for Caleb. The words came back to him so clearly. “Mis raices estan aqui.” The land. Blue Valley. All the memories. Marie. Young David and John, two sons gone. And Tom. Three sons. Three sons! He clung tightly to James. Not this one. He might lose this one in a way worse than death; he might be denied by his own son. That would be the worst loss of all. If only James knew how much Caleb loved him. But they were worlds apart. He could only love this son from a distance.

  A wolf howled outside, and a chill swept through Caleb. Tom. It still haunted him that he had never even had a body to bury. It still seemed as if the young man’s spirit walked beside him, and sometimes it was a comforting feeling, as though Tom was right there telling him everything would be all right. He felt the presence now and hugged James closer, remembering when Tom was this young. Why was it still so hard to think of his eldest son as dead? He had told everyone else he’d finally faced that reality, forced himself to go on with life and to stop taking the loss out on all of them. But deep inside his heart Tom Sax still lived.

  Caleb sat up wearily, picking a groggy James up with him and carrying him to the ladder, holding him over one shoulder as he descended. He didn’t want Sarah or the boy to wake up alone tonight. He carried James into their bedroom and lay the boy down beside his mother, then crawled into bed with them, putting his arm around them both. No one was going to take these two from him, nor would anyone take Lynda or his grandchildren. No one! Whatever he had to do to keep what was left of the Sax family alive and together, he would do it.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Four

  * * *

  Caleb couldn’t shake the feeling. Something was beckoning him. He had worked hard that morning helping Jess finish branding the few colts that had been born that spring. Caleb longed to take the whole herd to Blue Valley but didn’t dare expose these new, carefully bred steeds to the thieving hands of squatters. The old Hafer place was covered with them now, and Caleb could not help wondering if Byron Clawson knew, or if the man even still owned the land. The last he’d checked, it was still in Byron’s name. Maybe now that the war was over …

  He grinned. No. Byron Clawson wouldn’t be so stupid as to leave his sanctuary of an office in St. Louis to come to a place like Texas, especially when he knew Caleb Sax would be his next-door neighbor and was aware of what had happened to Charles Hafer. Still, Byron was pompous and unpredictable.

  None of that mattered now. What mattered was this urgent feeling to go to Blue Valley. Were the spirits telling him he would find a fine bunch of mustangs there? Was something wrong? He hung up his branding iron on special hooks in the barn.

  “We’ve got some fine horses to sell at the docks this spring, Caleb,” Jess said, coming in behind him. “Maybe now that me squatters know they can’t mess with us, we can start building things up again.”

  Caleb turned to look at him. “Maybe. But this isn’t over yet, Jess. What happened a couple of weeks ago might be just the beginning.” He leaned against a support beam. “I’m not so sure we can stay here much longer.”

  Jess hung up his own branding iron and walked closer, resting his hands on his hips. “You’re not going to give up now, are you, after all you’ve been through on this place?” He studied Caleb’s tired eyes. The man was still hard and handsome, but age was beginning to show around the eyes and there was a touch of gray in the otherwise shining black hair.

  Caleb held his eyes. “I might.” He sighed deeply. “It would be like cutting out a piece of my heart, but every time I picture that son of a bitch on top of my wife—” His eyes flashed angrily and he walked over to pick up a horse blanket.

  Jess watched him, his own memories of that day still bitter. “I know what you mean, Caleb. It was hard on both of them, and the boys, too. I’ve been wondering myself about staying, but it’s your place and I didn’t want to say anything. I know how much you love it.”

  Caleb went to a stall and took out his favorite horse, a white and gray speckled Appaloosa gelding. “I love my family more.” He threw the blanket over the horse’s back, then went to the wall to take down a bridle. “I just don’t like the idea of turning Lynda and Sarah into wandering nomads. I don’t have the faintest idea where in hell I’d go if I had to leave Texas.” He turned to meet the man’s eyes again. “It’s tearing me apart inside, Jess, trying to decide what’s right to do.”

  Jess walked closer, petting the Appaloosa’s nose. “Whatever you decide, Caleb, I’m with you. And so will the rest of the family be with you. You know that.”

  Caleb turned and slipped the bridle bit into the horse’s mouth. “I know. I appreciate your support.” He pulled the bridle over the horse’s ears. “When we take the herd into San Felipe, we’ll have to take the women and kids along. We have no choice. We can’t leave them here. Besides, we need some supplies, and it might be good for them to go into town.” He eased up onto the horse’s back. “Tell Sarah not to wait lunch. I won’t be back for a while.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Blue Valley.” Caleb started to turn the horse.

  “Blue Valley!” Jess grabbed the bridle. “Alone?”

  “No. I’ll take my musket and pistol.”

  “You know what I mean. You can’t go up there alone. The north section is crawling with squatters from Hafer land.”

  “I can take care of myself. Besides, a lot of them got out of there after we killed off those that came to the house.”

  “What the hell are you going there for?”

  Caleb sighed, looking down at him with weary eyes. “I don’t even know, Jess. All I know is that all morning I’ve had this urge to go there, like someone came and told me I had to go. Maybe the spirits are telling me something. I don’t know. I can’t explain it. Besides, it’s been a while since I was there. It’s my favorite place. I feel closer to Tom there.”

  “Caleb, let me go with you.”

  “You can’t. You’ve got to stay here with the women. I’ll tell Jake to help keep a watch when I go by his place. Tell Sarah I’ll be back sometime after dark but not to worry if I’m not back till tomorrow morning. It’s a long ride.”

  He turned the horse then and trotted to the barn entrance, where his musket stood on end. He picked it up and rested it across his lap.

  “Caleb, you’re crazy to go there. Sarah will have a fit when she finds out.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m going without telling her.” He rode out.

  Jess started to go after him, but Caleb was already heading north at full gallop. “Damned, stubborn Indian,” Jess muttered. “Spirits!” He stalked toward the house.

  Caleb made his way down the stony escarpment, the surefooted Appaloosa picking its way carefully so as not to spill its rider, yet sensing that would be difficult to do. Caleb Sax sat a horse as well as he walked on his own two feet, maybe better, and the Appaloos
a could feel the power of its rider.

  It had rained that morning in Blue Valley, and with the rising heat of the day mixed with the moisture still in the ground and the grass, the land seemed to steam. Everything was hazy, and the colors of the hills on the other side of the Valley melted together as the day settled into dusk.

  Caleb stopped partway down, studying the Valley below him, seeing no sign of squatters. His keen eyes moved along the distant hills. The Appaloosa tossed its head and snorted, waiting for another command. Caleb made ready to continue the descent, but suddenly he saw a lone figure on the distant ridge.

  He stared, an odd tingle moving through his blood so that he shivered. He had no idea who it was, but a sixth sense told him it was not some kind of enemy. He could barely make out a man on a horse through the mist. Why Caleb was so struck by the figure, he couldn’t understand, but he sat there motionless for a long time, watching it move along the ridge, stop a few times, move again, then come down toward the Valley.

  Caleb finally found his faculties and urged his Appaloosa downward again. He had ridden hard, and made good time reaching the Valley. Why in the world had he been in such a hurry? He had felt moved by superior forces, led along by some invisible hand.

  The day hung still and humid, a shadow slowly moving across the Valley as the sun began to sink behind the hills that protected it. The lone figure Caleb had seen was still descending and had nearly reached the Valley itself. Caleb reached bottom then, too, pausing for a moment as the figure started across, then stopped.

  Whoever it was, he had seen Caleb. Caleb gripped his rifle, his eyes quickly moving to either side of the figure to see if there were others nearby, but the man seemed to be alone. He started ahead slowly, the chill sweeping through him again with sudden fury, for in that instant Caleb thought of Tom. The figure resembled his son.

  He cursed himself then for being such a fool. Why did he let everything lead to thoughts of Tom? Why did he allow the memory to haunt him so? It was still having its effects on others, especially James. Poor little James. James was a beautiful child, inside and out. He was the product of Caleb and Sarah’s newfound love after years of being apart. A son was a son.

  And there was Lynda. Even she had wondered if she was loved as much. Oh, but he did love her dearly. Why did children doubt such love? Perhaps because it was so very important to them. He remembered when he was a small boy, and the Sioux man who had adopted him took a new wife and they had a baby boy. How jealous Caleb had been of that baby! He was sure that new son was loved more than he. Now, as a grown man, he knew better. Apparently children needed that constant security and reassurance.

  He brushed away thoughts of Tom, or at least tried to, as he trotted the Appaloosa ever closer to the approaching figure. The figure stopped again, and so did Caleb. How could he forget about Tom when the man he was watching looked more and more like him the closer he got? His heart pounded furiously and his breathing quickened when the figure raised a rifle into the air and let out a familiar Indian war whoop.

  “Tsehe-heto,” the man shouted then.

  Father! The word meant “my father” in Cheyenne. Caleb felt suddenly weak. Was he going mad? Was this some kind of vision? He clung to the reins of his Appaloosa, and the animal whinnied and pranced sideways as the figure came close then. He wore black, from shiny black boots to black pants to a handsome black shirt and hat. His hair was long, tied into a tail at his back. A fine silver and turquoise necklace graced the dark skin of his neck and a matching bracelet was wrapped around his broad wrist. A silver and turquoise belt circled his slender waist, and he rode a fine black stallion. At the moment his handsome brown eyes brimmed with tears. He flashed a brilliant smile.

  “Father,” he said then, reining his horse next to Caleb’s. “Are you not glad to see me?”

  Caleb stared, trembling. “Tom?”

  The young man nodded. His smile quickly faded when he saw that his father looked ready to fall right off his horse. He quickly dismounted and reached up for the man. When his hand touched Caleb’s arm, Caleb actually jerked back, tears welling in his eyes and his throat constricting. He held the young man’s eyes. “You … we thought you were dead … the Alamo … everyone was killed … the bodies burned.”

  “I was sent out, Father, with a message. I was knocked senseless by shrapnel, and in my confusion I tried to crawl back to the mission, but I crawled right into a Mexican camp. They took me prisoner and sent me back into Mexico with some soldiers who were returning to Mexico City. I was in a Mexican prison for three and a half years. They kept me alive because I was young and strong. They used me to work in a gold mine.”

  Caleb continued to stare. Did he dare let himself believe this was real? He slowly slung his leg around and slid off the Appaloosa, standing before the young man, who stood as tall as his father. He kept looking at him with total shock in his eyes, then reached out, carefully touching Tom’s chest as though to convince himself this was not a ghost. He began trembling visibly then, touching Tom’s face.

  “All these years … I’ve been struggling to face the reality of your death,” Caleb choked out. “Yet somehow deep inside I.,. I knew. I could never quite accept it.”

  A tear slipped down Tom’s cheek. “I have been dreaming of this day,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion. “All the time I was in that prison, I thought of you … Lynda … the ranch. And I knew through all the pain, I had to live … for my father. Sometimes that’s all that kept me going.”

  Caleb’s eyes moved over him and he began shaking. Tom reached out and embraced him. “It is all right, Father. I am here.”

  Caleb’s arm came around him and he wept. Tom. How could this be? The spirits had most certainly smiled upon him this day. No matter what happened now he would make it. Tom had been spared! Tom had come back to him. Tom was not dead. All his inability to accept his death made sense now. His inner spirit had somehow known his son was still alive.

  The shock of it moved through him in waves of near faintness so that he half hung on to Tom just to stay on his feet. The young man held his father tightly. Oh, how he loved the man. What had happened since the war? Was everyone still all right? Why weren’t there any horses in Blue Valley? He had passed through several squatter camps on Hafer land. Where had all the people come from?

  How long they stood there clinging to each other, neither could know. Now Caleb understood why he’d had such an urge to come here. Perhaps the spirits thought it would be better for father and son to meet first, before any of the others knew.

  “When we fought at San Jacinto, all I could think of was you,” Caleb groaned. “We all shouted ‘remember the Alamo.’ We won the war, but I lost my son … and I wondered if it was worth it. Why didn’t they let you go? Why didn’t they let you go after we won?”

  Tom pulled away suddenly. “I don’t know. I think they just forgot about me. I was thrown in a dungeon for a long time, then sent to the gold mines.” He wiped his eyes. “Come and sit down, Father. Are you all right?”

  Caleb nodded and Tom kept an arm around the man, leading him to a large, flat rock where they both sat down. His father had aged, and Tom knew it was because the man thought he had lost his son. What else had he lost? Tom was almost afraid to ask. But at least in spite of the added lines around the man’s eyes and the gray in his hair, Tom could still sense a hard strength. Caleb Sax didn’t go down or give up easily, not even at the loss of his most treasured son. Tom suspected Sarah Sax had a lot to do with that.

  “I was treated pretty bad, in the prison and at the gold mines,” he told his father. “I didn’t think I’d live at all. When they finally let me go, I had no horse, no money, no gun, and just the tattered clothes I wore. One old Mexican who befriended me at the gold mines told me of a man he had once worked for who was very wealthy, fair and kind. He said if I needed anything when I was ever freed, I should go to him. I went there and asked for work. He gave me a job and paid me well. I worked until I was healthier
and had enough money to buy clothes and this horse I am riding. I wanted to come back right away, but I was hundreds of miles from home, sick, and without a horse. I never would have survived. I could find no one willing to carry a message all the way to Texas for me.”

  Caleb had been hunched over, struggling to regain control of himself. He wiped his nose and eyes, turning to look at Tom. “Is it really you?”

  The young man smiled through his tears and nodded. “It’s really me.”

  Caleb grasped one of his arms. “I’m afraid you’ll disappear.”

  Tom sniffed. “I won’t disappear, Father.” He looked the man over. “Are you all right? Were you injured or anything? What about Sarah, and Lynda?”

  Caleb just kept looking him up and down. “I was wounded at San Jacinto, but not badly. Lynda is fine. She’s married to Jess Purnell, and they have a son. Sarah is well. So are James and Cale.”

  Their eyes held again … so much time past, so much loss. Caleb knew the young man was thinking of Bess.

  “Time heals a lot of things, Tom. But somehow it hadn’t healed my pain over losing you.” He ran a shaking hand over Tom’s arm and shoulder. “Now I know why.” He sniffed, unable to control more tears that ran down his cheeks. Tom was alive. No man’s face could display more joy than did the face of Caleb Sax at that moment, as the reality of it hit him all over again. He was not dreaming. He was not mad. Tom Sax was alive. He was touching him this very moment. For four years he’d lived with the agony of thinking a son was dead. He was twenty-eight now. Twenty-eight already! Four years had been lost, but he had his son back. That was all that mattered.