Frontier Fires

by Rosanne Bittner

  “Caleb Sax,” she muttered with a half grin. “Still hanging on.” She frowned, noticing the young man with him. “My God, it’s Tom,” she uttered in astonishment. She almost called out to them but checked herself. People were watching the Saxes. The last thing Caleb needed was to have a known whore yell out to him like he was an old friend. But then he was an old friend. How sad she could not acknowledge that. If only she were still married to Howard and could present herself as a respectable lady. But that was over. She watched sadly as Caleb and Tom rode by.

  Someone else also watched, standing at the window of his new office. He had been in San Felipe six weeks, long enough to establish his importance, long enough to jump in on the anti-Indian fever and help feed its fires. Caleb had not been to town in months, due to the trouble he feared he would find there. He had no idea that San Felipe had a new citizen, and another new bank.

  Byron Clawson watched him now, fear slinking down his spine with a sudden chill. So, there he was! He smiled at how people were watching Caleb as he rode by, hatred on their faces. If there was ever a good time to confront Caleb Sax and watch him crawl, this was it! He could almost smell trouble.

  He threw down his cigar and ran outside. He would stay out of Caleb’s sight until the time was right. He was safe here. Caleb couldn’t touch him! Byron’s whole body was damp with nervous anticipation. He’d never dare face Caleb Sax alone, but here in town … He almost laughed out loud at the situation. Sarah was with him. That made it all even better.

  He hurried down the street as Caleb herded his horses toward the docks.

  Below, Caleb moved through the main street, nodding to the few people he still knew, looking down his nose proudly at those who gave him dark, disapproving looks. Yes, this was a different breed of people.

  Caleb and Tom yipped and called, moving the herd to the stockyards near the docks and into an empty pen. Tom closed a gate and waited with the others while Caleb dismounted. He would walk to the building where the men worked who handled shipments in and out of San Felipe, most going to or from New Orleans. He’d dealt with them many times, usually getting a written receipt for the horses and collecting the money for them right there at the docks. The animals were then sold to the earliest arriving buyer from New Orleans. The horses were easy to sell. Everyone knew that animals bred by Caleb Sax were good stock.

  Tom watched as Caleb headed for the small building. Pain stabbed at his heart. This was where he had seen Bess getting ready to leave Texas. This was where they’d made their plans to run away together. Sometimes his memory of Bess was so vivid, and he ached for her. Would he ever find another woman like her? The only women he wanted now were the ones he didn’t have to care about. There had been a few accommodating Mexican girls on Juan’s ranch. But there had not been that fulfilling ecstasy he had found with Bess. Perhaps he would never feel that way again.

  Tom stiffened defensively when several men stepped into Caleb’s pathway before he could reach the building where he was headed. As ordered, the women and children stayed on their horses, but Sarah’s heart pounded as she, too, saw what was happening. They had all been aware that several men had continued to follow them through the street and to the docks, their looks menacing. But they had not expected a true confrontation. Ten or twelve men stood in front of Caleb, arms folded as though to set up a wall that would not let him by.

  “Goin’ somewhere, Indian?” one of them asked.

  Caleb had seen them coming, and had known instinctively what they would do. He rested his hand on his knife. “I’m going to see whoever is in charge of the docks. I have horses to sell. Now get out of my way.”

  They moved closer and Tom turned to the women. “Stay put,” he said softly. He edged his horse closer, as did Jess.

  “Nobody around here buys anything from Indians,” one of the men told Caleb.

  “I’ve been selling horses here for years, mister. I’ve been in Texas since before you learned not to wet your pants. Now get out of my way!”

  “What you gonna do about it, Indian?” another spoke up. “Kill somebody? Go ahead, just try it. That way we could string you up right quick and get rid of one more Indian.”

  “How’d you manage to stay in Texas, anyway?” another asked. “I thought we got rid of all the scum around here.”

  “Let him through,” Tom growled, pointing his rifle at the men. “Unless you want ten holes in your fat gut!”

  “Put it away, Tom,” Caleb told his son, his own eye still on the men who threatened him. “They want you to use it. That’s what they’re waiting for.”

  One of the men grinned. “That’s a pretty fancy gun you got there, boy. You steal that off some innocent Texan?”

  Tom rode up close to the man, cocking the rifle and pushing it against the man’s neck. “I earned this gun, after sitting in a Mexican prison for years. Unbelievable, that I fought for Texas independence so the likes of you could come here and live free,” he growled. He gave the gun barrel a shove, knocking the man backward to the ground. The man grunted, grasping at his throat then and rolling to his knees.

  Tom backed up, waving the rifle. “We are here to sell horses,” he told them all. “Now get out of the way, all of you!”

  “You won’t use that gun, mister,” another shouted. “It don’t take much to get an Indian hung around here. You’d be pretty stupid to shoot one of us.”

  “Put the gun away, Tom,” Caleb warned again, never once taking his eyes from the men who threatened him.

  Jess rode up behind them. “Get out of the way and let us through,” he told the crowd.

  One of the men snickered. “Must be an Indian lover.” His eyes moved to Lynda, who sat proudly in the distance. “‘Course that’s easy to do when the Indian looks like that pretty thing over there. I hear tell Indian women just love white men—all white men. They ain’t too particular. And they’ll give a man a wild ride.”

  The man had barely finished the sentence before Jess rode his horse closer, nudging it against the man, who jumped away. “You stinking white trash,” he growled. “Get out of our way!”

  “You’re white same as us, mister,” the man yelled, his accusing eyes moving then to Sarah. “And so’s that slut squaw woman who lays with Caleb Sax.”

  Jess’s foot kicked out then, landing hard under the man’s chin and sending him sprawling. Two men jumped on Caleb and Sarah screamed his name, watching in horror as all hell broke loose. Tom shoved his rifle into its boot and was off his horse, charging into the two men on Caleb, pulling one away, but another man grabbed him from behind. Tom whirled, backhanding the man and knocking him down, while Caleb kicked and punched in well-aimed blows that sent both his attackers sprawling. By then Jess was involved in a fist fight with three friends of the man he had kicked.

  Caleb ran over to Jess, yanking one man away and turning him, landing a big fist into his nose. He heard a snapping sound, and blood poured from the man’s nose when he went down. He stayed down. Caleb grabbed another one who was preparing to hit Jess from behind while Jess fought the third man. Two more men jumped on Tom, who elbowed one hard in the gut and kicked the other.

  As men went down, more came to take their place. Lynda felt sick at the sound of the punches, watching the mêlée in terror, as did Sarah, both women feeling helpless.

  “I’m going to help,” Cale declared, starting his horse forward. Lynda grabbed the reins.

  “No! One blow from a grown man could kill you!”

  “But they’re hurting Jess and Grandpa.”

  Her eyes teared. “Stay back, Cale.”

  “Pa,” James whimpered. Sarah reached over and squeezed his arm. “You can’t do anything, James.”

  Jake started to get down, but someone from behind yelled out for him to stay put or he’d be in big trouble. The voice sounded familiar. Sarah turned, her eyes widening in horror at the sight of Byron Clawson. He stood before her in an expensive suit and eyed her with an evil grin.

  Sarah felt a
s though all the blood was draining out of her as Byron came closer. He had aged, and with age he had become even uglier, thinner, his gray eyes duller. Years of heavy drinking had not helped his already plain looks, and his nose was still twisted and crooked from the powerful blow Caleb Sax once dealt him.

  “Hello, Sarah dear,” he told her, bowing slightly. He looked over at the battle that still raged. Caleb, Tom, and Jess all sported their share of blood by then but were still putting men down. The crowd seemed hesitant. After all, two of them were Indians. Would they pull knives? One never knew what an Indian would do.

  “I see your husband is still as untamed and vulgar as he was when I knew him,” Byron said with a grin. “You can never quite get the uncivilized wildness out of an Indian, can you?” His eyes ran over her greedily. “But then that’s what you always liked about him, right?”

  Sarah’s face was pale and she struggled against the old shaking. “What are you doing in San Felipe?” she asked, finally finding her voice.

  “Just taking care of business. I happen to own a bit of land, you know, next to your husband’s.”

  Lynda rode closer. “Get away from my mother, you bastard,” she shouted. She’d met this man only once, in St. Louis. He was responsible for her being put in an orphanage and never knowing her parents. She hated him worse than any enemy she had ever had.

  Byron just smiled at her, seeming very calm. He turned and walked toward the fighting. Several men lay sprawled out half unconscious. Caleb, Tom and Jess were tiring, taking their share of blows by then. A sheriff followed Byron, and Sarah could hardly breathe, her heart pounded so hard. Byron Clawson! What was he going to do? Why was the sheriff with him?

  The sheriff pulled his gun and fired it into the air twice. Men backed away, some pulling off the remaining fighters so that Caleb, Tom, and Jess were left standing alone near the sheriff and Byron.

  “Back off and get back to your own business,” the sheriff called to the crowd.

  “Arrest those men, Sheriff,” someone from the crowd shouted. “They’re troublemakers. The white one started the whole thing, and the other two are worthless Indians.”

  “Yeah! That Caleb Sax even killed a bunch of squatters a while back,” someone else yelled.

  Caleb whirled to defend himself to the sheriff, but words would not come when he saw Byron Clawson standing next to the man. Byron grinned at Caleb’s shocked face. Caleb looked quickly at Sarah, who looked fearful. The noise of the surrounding crowd diminished for Caleb as his eyes moved back to Byron, filling with bitter hatred. He gathered his composure. A chill swept through Byron. He paled visibly, struggling to keep a smile on his face. With blood streaming down his face and over his clothes, and the wild, hate-filled look in his eyes, Caleb was every bit the fierce warrior.

  This had all seemed like such a good idea to Byron, until he saw Caleb Sax again face to face. It had been years, long enough for Clawson to forget just how big and fierce the man truly was. Was he really safe just being in the middle of town? Of course he was, and he had the entire control of this situation. Yet he could barely control the sudden urge to run fast and hard. He forced himself to stay put and look confident, letting his eyes move over Caleb scathingly, while the crowd raised fists and yelled for the sheriff to do something about the “troublemakers.”

  “Hello, Caleb,” Byron finally said.

  “I was wondering when you’d show your face, Clawson,” Caleb growled, blood pouring from a deep gash on his forehead and a bruise forming under one eye, a small cut in the center of it. “Somehow I knew you’d come here yourself some day! You’ve got to be the dumbest son of a bitch who ever walked!”

  Byron’s eyebrows arched, and Sarah watched in trembling horror. The sheriff continued to try to quiet the crowd, while Caleb and Byron just stared at each other.

  “Come now, Caleb. You touch me, and this very angry crowd will have you swinging in no time at all.”

  “Who the hell is this, Caleb?” Jess spoke up.

  “This is Byron Clawson,” Caleb sneered. He didn’t have to say more. Byron felt himself weakening as Jess looked him over, as did the younger man dressed in black, who looked very Indian. Surely he must be the son, Tom Sax.

  “You’re the one who put Lynda in an orphanage,” Jess hissed, stepping closer.

  “And who are you?” Byron asked haughtily.

  “I’m her husband,” Jess growled.

  Byron’s eyes moved over the man as though he were scum. “She was the bastard child of my wife,” he hissed, his eyes moving back to Caleb. “I did Sarah a great favor by marrying her and giving her some respect. But the child looked too Indian. I had to get rid of it.” He looked back at Jess. “If you were low enough to marry her, that’s your problem.”

  “You bastard,” Jess sneered, clenching his fists.

  The sheriff was so involved quieting the crowd that he didn’t even notice the conversation between Byron and the Saxes.

  “Not here, Jess,” Caleb said in a quiet but determined voice. “There will be a right time.” His eyes never left Byron’s.

  Byron just grinned again. “Caleb, Caleb. Why can’t you ever forgive? I can. I’ll show you.” He turned to the crowd, raising his hands into the air. “Quiet! Quiet,” he shouted.

  Everyone lowered their voices. Byron might be new in town, but everyone knew he was very rich, a man who could save a lot of them from poverty. He was already known as the big banker from St. Louis who was handing out low-interest loans.

  “I came to San Felipe thinking the town had grown and progressed,” Byron told them in a loud voice. “And all I find is a lawless land. Do you want Texas to grow? Do you want cities like St. Louis to take shape in Texas?”

  “Yes,” they all answered in various ways.

  “We’ll be a state some day,” someone yelled out.

  “Lamar wants us to stay to ourselves,” someone else shouted.

  An argument broke out then over statehood, some men mentioning slavery, and voices raised again until the sheriff again fired his pistol and Byron yelled for quiet.

  “Mister Sax was an original settler,” Byron told them. “His blood has been spilled for Texas. He is a big landowner. As far as his killing those squatters, fighting squatters is something all landowners have to do. Today he and his family have been insulted. He reacted as any of you would react to such a thing. Now since he was an original settler, I say you should all get out of here and give the man another chance. He deserves that much. If not for men like Caleb Sax none of you could be here.”

  The crowd mumbled. “But he’s Indian,” someone called out.

  “That issue is still an open one in Texas. I am told Mister Sax runs a fine ranch and has lived here for years without causing trouble. Now show me you’re fine, civilized citizens by backing off and letting the man go. It’s time for law and order in Texas, not brawling and hangings.”

  “Tell him to stay on his ranch and out of town if he knows what’s good for him,” another man yelled. “His women, too.”

  Caleb’s fists clenched in rage. Byron smiled, looking up at the man. “It might be in your best interest to stay out of San Felipe, Mister Sax,” he said, loud enough for others to hear, pretending to have just met Caleb.

  Caleb’s jaw flexed in anger. “You know I have to come here to sell my horses and get supplies.”

  Byron looked over at the horses. “Well, I suggest that today you go back home, with the horses. Maybe there will be a better time.”

  It was all Caleb could do to control himself. He needed the money, and he needed the supplies, and Byron Clawson damned well knew it. Caleb didn’t want to use his son’s gold. That was Tom’s money. But there might be no other choice. Byron actually put out his hand then so that others could see his valiant effort at keeping the peace in San Felipe. “My name is Byron Clawson,” he told Caleb.

  Caleb wanted to tear him from limb to limb. What was this man up to?

  “You’d better shake my hand, or th
e crowd might get out of hand,” Byron said then in a quieter voice.

  Caleb reached out and took the hand, squeezing hard.

  “I’ve opened a bank in San Felipe,” Byron told him, “to help people like yourself who are hurting for cash. And I hear the land I own borders yours, Mister Sax. I’ll have to pay you a visit sometime.”

  The crowd began to disburse, but Caleb kept a grip on Byron’s hand, squeezing even harder, until he saw beads of perspiration on Clawson’s forehead. “What the hell are you really doing here, Clawson?” he sneered, his voice lowered. Tom and Jess stood nearby threateningly, both wiping at blood on their faces and knuckles.

  Byron’s eyes narrowed. “I just saved your life, Sax. Do you intend to break my hand for that?”

  Caleb lightened his grip. “I’ll break more than that when I get the chance,” he glowered. “And if you just saved my life, it was for a reason. God knows you tried your best to take that life once, and don’t think I’ve ever forgotten the hell you put me through, let alone what you did to Sarah and Lynda!” He towered over Byron, his very size and wild look draining all of Byron’s confidence. “You come near my place, or any member of my family, Clawson, and your guts will greet the sun! The only thing that has kept me from killing you before now was distance. Now you’re in my territory, and you’re a goddamned fool!”

  He gave Byron’s arm a shove when he let go of his hand, and the man stepped back slightly, flexing the hand to get the blood back into it. “I’m no fool, Sax. You can’t touch me as long as I’m in San Felipe. An Indian doesn’t dare make a wrong move in this place and you know it. You’re already walking on thin ice, being allowed to stay in Texas at all!”

  “You ugly, back-shooting coward,” Caleb growled, stepping closer.

  Byron backed away more, putting up a finger. “Ah! Watch yourself now, Caleb. People are still watching.” He put on a smile.

  “Come on, Caleb. Let’s get the horses and get out of here,” Jess told him.