“Look at all the soldiers, Pa,” James spoke up. “Why are they here?”
Caleb looked around. Tipis were clustered in circles in the distance, Indians come for summer trading. “Either there’s a new campaign against the Cheyenne, or these men are on their way to Mexico,” Caleb answered. “Let’s ride in and see what’s going on.”
He moved his horse forward and the others followed. As they neared the huge, open wooden doors of the fort, Caleb spotted Hank Tuttle lingering at the gate, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. Tuttle eyed Caleb sullenly as the man rode through the gate with his family.
The Saxes moved through the entrance gate and inside the fort’s thick adobe walls. The open courtyard bustled with activity—settlers, soldiers, traders, wagons, and horses. Chickens and dogs scampered about. Some Cheyenne stood aside, watching everything with a silent amazement, but also, Sarah guessed, with a good share of amusement.
For the most part Indians found the life-style of whites something of a curiosity, and she noticed one point to an employee of the fort who was frantically scurrying about, trying to clean up the horse dung that peppered the courtyard. It was an almost hopeless effort, and Sarah had to smile herself and share the amusement of the Cheyenne as they watched the man move from pile to pile. More men rode in, one of their mounts dropping a fresh sample of digested prairie grass. Sarah laughed aloud as the man with the shovel and wheelbarrow stared at the new “contribution” and finally threw down his shovel.
Outside the fort Hank Tuttle leaned to get a last look at Caleb Sax and his women. He had not forgotten the embarrassing confrontation with Caleb the year before. Men such as Sax could put him out of the whiskey trading business.
Tuttle hurriedly left then, his mind whirling with thoughts of revenge. His camp was farther off, and more men waited there for him, guarding the whiskey wagon. Because so many soldiers were around the fort now, Tuttle didn’t dare ride in with a whole wagonload. His plan had been to sell a few bottles at a time.
The men with Tuttle were drifters mostly, ex-trappers with nothing better to do than freeload off Tuttle in return for guarding the wagon. Now, Tuttle surmised, they could become more useful. Perhaps they would be interested in something much more profitable than whiskey. The women with Caleb Sax were comely, and pretty women in these parts were rare. One looked very white. White women brought good money in Mexico. And if he had seen right, the other one was younger—a dark, provocative beauty from a distance. Maybe she was a daughter.
“I’ll sell all the goddamned whiskey I want, and I’ll sell the Sax women, too,” Tuttle muttered. “And I’ll kill that bastard.”
Inside the fort Caleb studied the soldiers who milled about. The fort was teeming with them.
“Sergeant,” he called out as a man with three inverted V-shaped stripes on the sleeve of his uniform walked past. “It is sergeant, isn’t it?”
“That’s right.” The man glanced at Sarah, looking surprised that such a lovely white woman was with the tall Indian who had just called out to him. The soldier nodded to her, removing his hat. Sarah smiled and nodded in return. The man directed his gaze at Caleb again. “What is it you want?”
“My name is Caleb Sax. I trade here, live about a half day’s ride from here. What’s the reason for all the soldiers?”
The man straightened more. “We’re on our way to take Santa Fe, mister. We’re gonna claim her as American territory, then we’ll move on to Mexico. Some of us might go to California.”
Caleb looked down at Sarah and she read his alarm. “California? What is going on?”
“War, mister. We’re here with Colonel Kearny. Some of our men are already on the trail to Santa Fe to stop any traders who have already left. They risk attack by Mexicans and by Indians being paid by the Mexicans. We’re at war with Mexico, mister. President Polk himself sent Colonel Kearny to take Santa Fe. We’re drilling now for the attack. Be leaving right soon.”
“And trade with Santa Fe has stopped?”
“That’s right.”
Caleb looked around and sighed. “How about horses? Does this Colonel Kearny need any? I’ve got some to sell. I’ll be bringing them in day after tomorrow.”
“The army can always use horses, mister. The colonel is in his quarters. It’s the biggest tent, the one with the flag on it.”
Caleb nodded. “Thanks. I’ll go talk to him.”
The sergeant pushed back his hat. “We can always use scouts, too. You look like a man who knows this land.”
Caleb shook his head. “No, thanks. I have a family. And I’ve had my fill of war. I did my share at San Jacinto. It’s someone else’s turn.”
“San Jacinto! You were there? With Houston?”
Caleb nodded. “My reward was to get kicked out of Texas for being an Indian. You can understand why I’m not anxious to join another army.”
The man glanced at Sarah again and he reddened at the remark. He met Caleb’s eyes and swallowed nervously. “I’m sorry.” He nodded a farewell. “Have a good day, sir.” He turned and left, and James watched from the wagon seat, wondering where all the soldiers had come from. What was it like in the mysterious East where most such men originated? He had heard about cities and railroads, schools and even universities where a man could get even higher learning.
Cale rode in, two young Indian boys riding with him. He spotted his grandfather’s wagon and headed in their direction, grabbing up his little half brother, John, out of the wagon and hoisting him up onto his horse. John laughed and grasped the animal’s mane. Lynda watched from the wagon seat, as did James, who instantly turned away.
“Cale, you were supposed to be home two days ago,” Jess told the boy, walking up closer.
Cale just laughed, handing John to Jess. “I was having fun,” he told his stepfather. “I went on a hunt with Ten Stars and Buffalo Boy.” He turned to the two young men with him and said something in their own tongue, nodding toward his family. They both touched their brow when he nodded toward Caleb. Lynda glanced at the painted, nearly naked young men.
“Cale, we need you at the ranch,” Lynda told him, standing up in the wagon. “You must come home when we tell you to.”
Cale looked at his grandfather. “I don’t want to farm or ranch. I want to be with my friends. I want to ride farther north on the hunt.”
Caleb walked closer. “It’s getting dangerous out there for the Cheyenne, Cale,” he told his grandson. “I know how you feel, but they can’t keep living as they did before. You know there have been soldier patrols all over this area the last couple of years, and in the north too. The Cheyenne are getting blamed for a lot of raids and killing. Besides that, the Cheyenne are still at war with the Pawnee. You get too far north, and you’re open to enemy Indians.”
Cale just grinned. “I’m not afraid of any of those things. And there are plenty of places the Cheyenne can still ride free. Besides, Grandfather, if you could do it, you would be riding with us too. Tell me you would not.”
Their eyes held, and Sarah watched from where she stood near the wagon, her heart going out to Caleb.
“The fact remains that we need you, Cale,” Jess answered for Caleb. “Don’t add to your mother’s burdens by worrying her as you do. You’re not even thirteen yet. Give her one more year before you go making decisions about what you’re going to do with your life. She deserves that much.”
Cale looked at his mother, reading her pleading eyes. “Just stay in this area at least until next year. There is fighting everywhere, Cale.”
The young man sighed, turning to the Indian boys with him and speaking to them again in their own tongue. He turned to his mother. “I will come back in a while. Ten Stars and Buffalo Boy are leaving soon on a hunt. I have told them that out of respect for my mother I cannot go. But next year I wish to go on the summer hunt with them.”
Lynda smiled through tears.
“You’ve made a wise decision, Cale,” Caleb told his grandson.
“Your grandfathe
r has to bring some horses in day after tomorrow,” Jess told the boy. “You and James can help him. That will leave me free to stay with the women.”
Cale nodded. “James and I have not worked together in a long time,” he said, aiming his words at his young uncle.
James turned to face him. “That’s because you’re never home. Don’t you care about your family, Cale?”
Cale’s eyes flashed with anger. “I care—in ways you will never care,” he sneered. He turned his horse, riding off with his friends.
Caleb turned to look at James, who met his father’s eyes. “You let him do what he wants, Father, just because he’s Indian like you.”
Sarah turned in surprise at the remark, and Caleb just stared at his son in disbelief.
“And so are you Indian, James Sax,” Sarah said sharply. “Don’t you ever make such a remark to your father again.”
James scowled and jumped down from the wagon. “I’m going to walk around and look at all the soldiers,” he muttered, quickly walking off.
“James,” Caleb called out, walking over to where the boy stood waiting. “I brought your mother here today to have a good day and celebrate her being well again,” Caleb said firmly. “Don’t spoil it for her.”
The young man looked up at his father, his throat feeling suddenly thick, his cheeks hot. “I’m sorry, Pa. I didn’t—” He looked down at his feet. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I only meant you understand the Indians better than I do.”
“I know what you meant, James. But you’ve got to stop thinking of Cale as some kind of competition, James. You’re my son and I love you, just the way you are. I’ve never asked you to be like Cale. You’re a big help to me and you’re a good son. I appreciate your always being around when I need you. Now come back and stay with us. We’re going to have a big lunch—apple pie, the works.”
The boy shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded. “Okay.”
Sarah watched, her heart heavy.
Outside the walls of the fort Cale rode a hard race with Ten Stars and Buffalo Boy, dreaming of the day he could stay with the Cheyenne forever. They had plenty of freedom left. Surely this land would never become so settled that they could no longer roam the plains on the hunt and move north and south with the seasons. He loved this life. He wanted to live this way forever, to prove his manhood someday the way his grandfather had done by participating in the Sun Dance, to prove himself as a warrior. He loved his family, and James’s remark had angered him. It was just that he didn’t feel right living any life but among the Cheyenne. After all, his grandfather was half Indian, his own father had been a full-blooded Cherokee, and his mother was part Indian. There was nothing unusual about his spirit longing to ride free.
Lynda set down her brush and studied her long, straight hair in the small mirror of her dressing table. John lay sleeping peacefully in his bed in the second bedroom of their cabin. Cale, as usual, chose to sleep outside under the stars. She sighed deeply and looked over at Jess, who lay in bed on his back watching her, his arms crooked behind his head.
“What do you think, Jess, about Cale?”
He studied his wife’s dark beauty. The Cheyenne part of her gave her such provocative looks—the lustrous dark hair, the high cheekbones; as well as the fiery temper and fierce pride that made living with her sometimes a challenge, and the wild passion that made every episode of making love something beyond ecstasy. He loved her more every day they were together. From Caleb she had inherited her astounding blue eyes and a greater height than the average woman’s, which only made her build more willowy and desirable, her legs long and slender, her form nothing short of perfect.
“I think that by next year he’s going to be beyond reach, Lynda. We should just be proud he knows what he is and knows what he wants to do with his life. That’s more than we can say for James. He’s one mixed-up young man. Cale knows exactly what he wants out of life, even if it might be dangerous for him.”
She sighed deeply, rising and walking to the foot of the bed, removing her robe and draping it over the bed rail. “It isn’t just the danger, Jess. It’s the fact that there is no future with the Cheyenne. They don’t understand that yet, but people such as us do understand it. Look what has happened to the eastern Indians. Some of the tribes don’t even exist anymore.” She moved around and sat on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know. It seems so strange. All my life I wanted to find my mother and father. And now my own son wants to leave me.”
“He’s not leaving you. He’s just being his own person. That’s the way it is for most, especially a man. It’s just hard for you to understand because you grew up in an orphanage.”
She moved onto the bed and under the covers, stretching out beside him. “Are you sure you don’t mind, Jess—always living near my parents? You talk about how Cale has to do what’s best for him. What about you?”
He lay there silently for a moment. “I have you. That’s all that matters.” He wanted to say more, wanted to tell her how he longed to strike out on his own. But he never quite found the heart to do it. Being with her parents was the most important thing in the world to Lynda. She had lost so much in her lifetime.
He raised up on one elbow, looking down at her. “I love you, Lynda. And I understand how important it is to you to stay close to your mother and father. I’m doing what I would be doing if we lived a thousand miles away. Why not do it right here with them? It’s all in the family, and what Caleb and I build together will be passed on to James and John, if they want it. I had no family at all until I met you.”
“But what if Father decides to go to California as he mentioned?”
He lay back down. “Then I guess we go, too. The only thing wrong with that is leaving Cale behind. He’d never go, you know.”
“I know. But even if we stay here, we would hardly ever see him. I guess I’ve already lost him, haven’t I?”
“You’ll never really lose him, honey,” Jess told her, drawing her into his arms. “And we have John.”
She kissed his muscled chest, lightly fingering the hairs on his chest as she spoke. “I know you want more children, Jess. I’m trying. I’m sorry about the miscarriage.”
“Lynda, you can’t blame yourself for a fact of nature that you can do nothing about. Maybe you’ll have more, maybe you won’t. We have John and we have each other. And if having babies is going to harm you, then it doesn’t matter to me if we never have another one. Your health is what’s important.”
She tilted her head and met his eyes. “You want to try again?”
He grinned, then laughed lightly. “Far be it from me to turn down a beautiful woman.”
“Oh? How many have you had to turn down these last few years?”
“Dozens.”
She smiled, moving her hand down over his chest to touch that part of him that brought out all her passions when they were one. “Then I had better keep you busy and make sure you’re always satisfied, hadn’t I?”
His blue eyes sparkled with love. At thirty-six, Jess was still a hard, handsome man. The lines about his eyes, put there by years of work under the open sky, only seemed to add to his rugged good looks. He made no verbal reply. He simply leaned down to meet her full, beautiful lips, groaning at the light movement of her fingers that brought out his manly desires. He pushed up her gown and moved on top of her, and her slender thighs parted, letting him inside.
It was all so easy and natural. They didn’t always need to pet and fondle before doing this. After all, being one was the most wonderful part of their lovemaking. Sometimes, like tonight, it just happened, like breathing the air.
Their passion rose as Lynda arched up to Jess in rhythmic splendor. He raised to his knees, pushing her gown up over her breasts and moving his hands over them, down over her belly, then grasping her hips arid supporting her as he pushed deeper, watching her voluptuous body shudder and sway beneath him. Her slender fingers grasped his forearms, and minutes later she groaned his name as
the sweet climax of their lovemaking swept through her in warm pulsations that took her to a world removed from the realities of everyday life.
How she loved this man! He had been so good to her, so understanding, so supportive. How afraid she had been to love this way again, but they had been together ten years now, and she could not worry about things that might happen. That was what her mother and father had taught her. They had suffered so much more than anyone else in the family. Caleb and Sarah Sax understood the fact that life must go on and sorrow must not be allowed to consume a person’s soul.
Jess bent closer, moving his arms under her back and kissing her neck.
“God, Lynda, it’s always so good,” he whispered, shoving hard and deep until she felt the gentle throbs of his own release. Again she found herself hoping that this time her body would accept his seed, that it would grow and blossom into another child.
He lay there quietly for a moment, then kissed her cheek. “I had no intentions of doing this, you know.”
She laughed lightly, kissing his chest again. “You’re just too easy, that’s all. If other women do come around, I had better keep an eye on you.”
He looked down at her, kissing her eyes. “Well, there aren’t any as beautiful as you in this whole land, so it doesn’t much matter.”
She traced a finger over his lips. “Thank you, Jess, for letting me stay near my parents—for being so understanding all the time. I’ll need your strength for the day Cale leaves and never comes back.” Her eyes teared.
He brushed at one of her tears, just before they heard a gunshot. Jess straightened. Suddenly men were shouting and they could hear the thundering of running horses.
“Jess, what is it!”
“I don’t know!” He jumped out of bed and pulled on his long underwear. “Get your robe on and go into John’s room. Stay there until I come for you.”
Outside in the darkness Hank Tuttle rode hard toward Caleb and Sarah’s cabin, the men with him yipping and shooting, stirring up the herd of horses Caleb planned to take to the fort the next day.
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