“You are too injured to help lead him,” Galvez put in.
“I want to be sure he doesn’t get away.” Tom looped the rope around the horn of his own saddle.
Galvez studied him as they rode out, leading the whinnying, fighting stallion. This Tom Sax was a good and honorable man. It was too bad he was Indian. But that wouldn’t stop him from putting the man in charge of training all mustangs if he was successful at taming the black one. Emanuel would be upset, but he had made the promise and he would keep it.
Juanita’s heart swelled with pride and victory when Tom Sax returned two days later, riding the black stallion, just as he had predicted he would. Her father was beaming with excitement.
Galvez’s men followed, more and more of them gathering as the men came closer. Those who had bet on Tom cheered for him and collected bets. Emanuel Hidalgo watched in dark fury, remaining at a distance, not about to congratulate anyone. Somehow, someday, he would show Tom Sax he was the better man, and he would have Juanita Galvez in his bed. His patrón had already obviously taken a preference to this Tom Sax.
Ever since Tom’s arrival, it seemed to Emanuel that Galvez acted differently toward Emanual, and in Emanual’s jealous mind, that meant he would slowly be replaced by the Indian. Emanuel liked being number one. He deserved to be number one. Tom Sax would not cheat him out of it. But for the time being, he could say or do nothing. He must cooperate with whatever Galvez chose to do. Tom Sax would have complete control over the horses and answer to no one but Antonio Galvez.
“By the time he got through talking to the horse and coaxing him, feeding him by hand—oh, you should have seen him,” Galvez was telling one of his men. “When he got on that horse, it only bucked twice and then he rode off with the animal. It was a beautiful sight. Soon they came riding back, and for the rest of the morning el señor Sax rode the black beast until it obeyed his every command.”
Hidalgo turned and walked away.
“Tonight you will sleep in the main house, Señor Sax,” Galvez said. “You will dine with us and we will talk about horses. I will call in a doctor to examine you and be sure your injuries are not serious.”
Tom dismounted in obvious pain. “Gracias, señor. But first I will bed down Valiente and make sure he is settled. I think I am the one who should do it for the next few days. I am still not certain he will not be mean to another man.”
Galvez nodded. Juanita watched from a window. Valiente. So, Tom Sax had named the horse. Brave . . . valiant . . . just like Tom Sax.
It seemed hours to Juanita before they were all seated at the table. The doctor had pronounced Tom Sax to be healing, but he would require much rest and should not ride for several days. She was relieved. Tom sat there now in a clean yellow shirt and black pants. His belt was rich leather with turquoise stones set in it, and he wore the turquoise necklace at his throat again. His hair looked clean and soft, and it was pulled behind his neck.
Juanita stole glances at Tom as he ate, noting the fine lines of his handsome face, his firm jawline and lean, muscled neck. His eyes were dark brown and set deep and wide apart, framed with perfectly shaped eyebrows. His nose was straight and beautiful, and it was obvious he had once lived in relative wealth himself, for he seemed to know all the right manners. He was familiar with the Spanish, for he’d lived among them in Texas and in the prison in Mexico. She knew her father was testing him out with every statement and question, and Tom Sax answered everything in just the way he should. They learned more about the grand ranch his father had once owned in Texas, and he told Antonio and Juanita some of his past life, including the fact that he had once had a wife.
Juanita’s soft heart went out to him, yet she was secretly relieved that he was not serious about any one woman. She listened intently as he told about his family.
“So, I have a half-Cheyenne father and a white stepmother,” he told them with a grin. “My family is very complicated. I am mostly Cheyenne. But my sister, Lynda, is mostly white, for Sarah is her mother. Sarah and my father had another child after they were reunited, a son called James. He’s about twelve or thirteen now. And Lynda is married and has two sons—Cale and John. Cale is very Indian and very wild—almost the same age as James. John is more quiet and looks more like his white father. My half brother, James, doesn’t look like he has any Indian blood at all. It gets a little complicated trying to explain my family.”
Galvez laughed. “I can see that.” Then he sobered. “There has been much tragedy in your life, Tom Sax, and in your father’s. But tragedy is what makes a man stronger, if he is brave enough to bear the loss and keep going. I myself felt I had nothing to live for when Juanita’s mother died. But I survived. I know how it feels to lose a wife.”
Tom allowed himself to glance at Juanita for the first time. All evening she had been waiting for his eyes to meet hers, but she knew why he barely looked at her. “Yes,” he answered, looking at Juanita. “It leaves a lasting pain.”
It was as though he was trying to talk to her, to explain to her how he felt. How she wished they could talk alone. How she wished she could make him feel better and take away his loneliness.
Tom quickly looked away. “Speaking of my family reminds me I must write them. Is there someone to send a letter?”
“Sí,” Galvez answered. “But this late in the year it might have to wait. Few men are willing to cross the Sierras now. From now until next spring a man could easily die up there.”
Tom frowned. “I didn’t think of that.”
“We will see what we can do. Come. Let us go into the smoking room!”
Tom finished his meal, then followed Galvez into another room for more talk about horses. It was late when he finally retired. He walked wearily into his room and closed the door softly, looking up in surprise to find Juanita standing in his room. A lamp was dimly lit, and she looked startlingly beautiful in the soft light. She quickly put her fingers to her lips to tell him to be quiet, then moved closer, her bare feet making no noise.
All of Tom’s sexual desires came alive, for her hair was brushed out long and straight, hanging to her waist. She wore a heavy robe, but he knew that beneath that was a nightgown and beneath that . . .
Never had his desires been so disturbed—not since being with Bess. There had been others, but not this wonderful, aching, heart-stopping feeling.
“I know I am bad for being here, but I know how hard it will be to get to talk to you alone, señor Sax,” she was telling him in a near whisper. “I only wanted to say how proud and happy I am for you—about the black stallion. And I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about your wife, and I hope one day you will be very happy again.”
Their eyes held. He knew the real reason she had come—hoping to hint to him that she liked him very much and would gladly see more of him if her father would allow it.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said softly. He reached out and grasped her arms. “You’re very sweet, but if you were ever caught . . .”
She studied him with wide eyes, her lips trembling. “I know. I just wanted—” Her eyes suddenly teared. “Oh, I was very bad to come here,” she began to whimper.
“No,” he whispered. “It’s all right.” How he wanted to carry her to his bed! “If I . . . if there is a way I can see more of you, would you consent, Señorita Galvez?” He strived to show her he had lost no respect for her, and he knew she had no idea of the kind of thoughts that were going through his mind.
She smiled then. “Sí,” she answered quickly.
Tom grinned, bending down and kissing her forehead. “Then you must give me time and not be impatient. Now get out of here,” he whispered, letting go of her.
He gave her a wink and she wiped at tears, wanting to hug him and thank him. She hurried to the door then, looking back at him once before carefully peeking out into the hall and looking up and down to be sure no one was there. She darted out, disappearing like a ghostly spirit. But she certainly had not been a spirit, and when Tom went to
the door to close it, his body felt as though it were on fire. He would not sleep well this night. Of that he had no doubt.
• Chapter Five •
It was a hard winter on the Colorado plains. Just as temperatures sometimes climbed to sweltering numbers in the summer, so did they dip to a bitter, bitter cold in winter. June, 1846, brought a welcome warmth, a great relief to Caleb, who had helped nurse Sarah through a fight against pneumonia that had kept her in bed for weeks that spring and afterward had left her very weak.
The past winter had also brought a sad miscarriage for Lynda, who was trying hard to have another child for Jess. Carrying a baby had always been difficult for her, and the harsh winter on the open plains of Colorado had taken its toll, bringing Lynda’s third miscarriage out of five pregnancies.
Now summer brought warm sunshine. Sarah was stronger, but Caleb was plagued with worry over when she might get sick again, and if and when he would ever be able to give her all the comforts she deserved. Lynda was recovered physically, but still suffered emotionally from the loss of another baby.
Caleb thought again about the letter from Tom, telling them what California was like. It had come just today and had arrived nearly a year after Tom’s arrival in California. Winter snows had made the Sierras impassable. But the letter finally came, to Caleb’s great relief. He wondered if California could really be as beautiful and warm and prosperous as Tom had made it sound. After the hard winter and nearly losing Sarah to death, California sounded inviting. It sounded even more inviting when Caleb realized how much he missed his eldest son.
Tom sounded very happy on the Lecho de Rosas, and from the way he had described Doña Juanita Rosanna Galvez de Sonoma, Caleb had no doubt his son had finally found someone in whom he had a strong love interest. But according to the letter the girl was very young and it was almost impossible to talk to her alone. If Tom cared for her, Caleb could only hope that somehow he could pursue that love. Tom Sax needed a woman—a wife, children.
An owl hooted somewhere in the distance. It was a warm night, and James had already fallen asleep reading in his bed in the loft. Sarah lay in bed reading over the letter that had come from Tom.
“Caleb, I think he’s in love,” she told him. “Isn’t it wonderful? And it must have been so exciting taming that stallion. I wish we could have seen it! And doesn’t California sound beautiful?”
“Yes, it does.” Caleb undressed and crawled under the light blankets. He turned on his side, pulling the letter from her hands. “Beautiful enough that if things don’t work out here in a couple more years, maybe we should think about going there, especially if Tom is still there.”
Her eyes widened and she turned to face him. “Caleb! All the way to California?”
He reached out and stroked her red-gold hair. “Why not?” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry. I’d take damned good care of you. I’d make the trip as easy as possible.”
She frowned. “I’m not worried about me. It’s just that you’re just getting going right here. And this is the land you love. You don’t belong in California.”
He traced a thumb over her lips. “I belong wherever it’s best for you.”
She felt the warmth and love captured in his moving blue eyes. “You’re running away, Caleb; running away from what you really want.”
“I’m only thinking about you: how hard it is here for you; the bitter winters; and never knowing, from year to year how much money will be coming in. Tom’s letter makes California sound like the best place in the world for raising horses. Mix that with the sunshine, which would be good for your health, and it gives a man something to think about.”
“We have lots of sunshine here.”
“But in winter the days are too cold, even with the sun. You need a place where it’s warm all year round.”
She ran a hand over his muscled arm and shoulder. “Caleb, give it some time. I’m all right, really.”
“You weren’t a few weeks ago. What about next winter, and the winter after that?” He kissed her fingers. Her knuckles were slightly swollen. “And I know you’ve had a lot of pain in your hands. I don’t like your doing so much sewing.”
She sighed, smiling softly. “Caleb, you’re always searching. Sometimes I wonder if you even realize what you’re searching for.”
“I’m searching for a way to make a good life for you.”
“No. It’s more than that. You’re searching for yourself—where you really belong. We both know where that is.”
He put his fingers to her lips. “No more of that talk.” He bent closer and kissed her eyes. “I’ve loved you since I was nine years old. You’re my best friend, Sarah Sax, and I’m your own best friend. All that matters is that we’re together—for just as long as we can keep it that way.” He moved his hand behind her neck and kissed her cheeks. “I’m going to take the best care of you that I can.”
“Caleb—”
He cut off her protest with a kiss, pressing gently, running his tongue over her mouth and moving on top of her. In all their years together he never ceased to work a certain magic on Sarah. Caleb took command, his very touch and movements making it impossible not to want him in return. They had not made love in weeks because she had been so weak. Now he would have her, and she wanted him just as much.
Their long abstinence made the fires burn hotter. He groaned with the want of her, and as his mouth continued to draw out her own desires, he handily removed his underwear and tossed it to the floor. His hand moved down to push up her gown, and he moved it over her bare hips and flat belly.
His lips moved to her neck and she whispered his name. His touch was always good, always beautiful. “I need you,” he whispered.
Sarah stroked his long, black hair as he moved his face against her breasts. “I need you, too. I’m well enough now.” She felt her cheeks getting hotter as he moved down, pushing her gown over her breasts and tasting the full nipples. He lingered there, as though he could take nourishment from the pink fruits; then he moved lazily over her belly, taking his time with her. After all, it had been a long time. He kissed at secret places, making her feel wanton. This man knew every inch of her, owned every inch, had explored every inch. He had been her first man, and in her mind her only man, for he was the only one she had ever loved.
She wanted to please him. She loved pleasing him, for she took her own great pleasure in return. Sarah was upset that she had been sick for so long this past spring. Would he find another woman if anything happened to her? No. There must never be another woman. The thought of it passed as a glorious explosion rippled through her loins, telling Caleb she was ready for him. He moved on top of her, pressing himself against her belly. He was a big man in every way, and sometimes she wondered how he fit inside her.
In the next moment he proved that he could, and again he worked his magic with her, filling her and moving rhythmically in that special way that took her to a world removed from reality. Whenever Caleb made love to her the room swirled with his dark beauty, and it seemed sometimes that she could almost hear drums beating, the shake of rattles. He whispered to her in the Cheyenne tongue, words she didn’t even understand but were still beautiful to her. The words and his touch and the way he moved inside her made her gasp his name over and over, arching up to him in total abandon. He had such power, bringing out everything that was woman in her.
Sarah pulled herself up, kissing his chest, ignoring the scars there from the Sun Dance ritual and from various battles. He encircled her in strong arms, his skin looking so dark against her own. He pushed her back down, lying gently on top of her and pushing deep, his life spilling forth in great surges of love and need.
“Sarah, God, Sarah,” he whispered, tangling his fingers in her hair. He kissed her over and over. “Don’t leave me. Don’t ever go away from me.”
She knew he meant in death, and she prayed they would have many more years together. Such a strong man he was, yet so weak at the thought of being
without her.
“I’ll be here a long time yet, Caleb Sax,” she answered softly. “And the way you live, I should be the one worried about losing you.”
“I’m too damned mean to—” He did not finish. He rested on his elbows, hovered over her, kissing her hair. “Want to go to the fort with me tomorrow? If it’s as nice as today was, it would be a good outing for you. You’ve been stuck in this cabin all winter and most of spring.”
She smiled. “Oh, I’d love to go, Caleb. I need some material, and I haven’t visited with anyone besides Lynda in so long.”
“We’ll all go then. Lynda already mentioned she’d like to go.”
She pursed her lips. “And have you mentioned California to Lynda and Jess?”
“Just a hint. I think Jess has thought about it himself. It would be as good for Lynda as for you.”
She sighed deeply. “Let’s give it some time. Trading is good at the fort.”
“It is now. But there is a lot of talk about another all-out war with Mexico, and you know what that could do to the Santa Fe trade. Either way, I’d give it another year. Part of the problem is Cale. He spends more and more time with the Cheyenne, and I have a feeling if we left here he’d want to stay behind. I’m not sure Lynda could bear that.”
“I know. But he’s with them so much now he’s already gone from us most of the time anyway. That boy is so wild, Caleb.”
“He’s following his spirit.”
Their eyes held. “And you?”
He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I’m with the woman I love, and I have my family with me.”
“Promise me something,” she said softly.
“What’s that?”
She traced a finger over his handsome lips. “Promise me you’ll follow your own spirit, if anything ever happens to me.”
“Sarah, don’t—”
“Promise me. You know what I’m talking about, Caleb. Half of you belongs to the Cheyenne. When I’m gone, you must heed the call in your soul. Your life began with them. It should end with them. Promise me.”
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